Conflicts of Interest Part 1
from SGA big bang. While the site is down, I'll post this here. The dvd commentary is also here.
John/Elizabeth
Totally AU prompt
The City of Atlantis, Somewhere in the South Atlantic Ocean, Earth, 1835
John woke when the mattress shifted under him. He whined a complaint and dragged the pillow off his head and gazed around the room, bleary eyed. It was still dark outside. Cool sapphire moonlight filtered in through the gap in the drapes covering the window. He leaned on one arm and arched a quizzical brow when he found her.
Elizabeth froze, caught, her underwear dangling off one finger as she bent down to collect the rest of her discarded clothing. John thought he saw a flash of guilt before she schooled her features, concealing the barest hint of fang.
"Come back to bed," John drawled.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Elizabeth apologized as she drew her panties up her legs. She bent down to collect the rest of her clothes.
John sighed as he flopped back onto the mattress. He scrubbed a hand across his face, wiping sleep out of his eyes as he realized every morning spent in his quarters was like this. She'd get up, redress and head back to her own rooms. John always stayed the whole night when he was in her room, so she'd started to insist that they spend the night in his room to avoid such "lapses in judgment". Every night he tried to show her he wanted her to stay, but every morning she still left. Well, he'd known courting her wouldn't be easy. He’d be damned if he was just going to give up.
As Elizabeth tugged on her pants, John threw back the covers and decided maybe he'd have to try to keep her around in the morning by other means. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. The touch of her skin tingled against his senses and at the base of his spine. He breathed in sharply, feeling that mystical yet connection between them. John wondered if there was an addictive quality to the bond, and found he didn't care in the slightest.
"What are you doing?" she asked. John kissed her neck in answer, hugging her to him. His hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts. "John I need to leave."
John slid one hand down her stomach and into her unbuckled pants. He was usually half-hard in the mornings. The feel of her soft skin under his fingers and the way her breath hitched as he fondled her only made him harder. He rubbed against her rear. His fingers withdrew from her pants and he smiled at her soft groan of protest.
"Come back to bed," he whispered into her ear as he began to push her pants and underwear down.
"John," she protested weakly as he fingers teased her entrance and fondled her breasts.
"I don’t want you to go," John pouted. "I keep asking you to stay."
"I shouldn't."
"Yes," John kissed her neck. "You should."
"I-"
"Stay with me," John asked, his hands now still. He held her tightly. She turned in his embrace, her eyes falling shut briefly when his erection pressed against her stomach. His hand cupped her cheek. " How many times do you I have to say it for you to understand?"
"I do, I just-"
John kissed her, stopping the weak protests. He'd known pursuing a relationship would be hard, but he'd had no idea how hard. She was fighting him at every turn, but he was gaining ground. She melted bit by bit into his kisses and slowly he pushed her back towards the bed. He couldn't help the grin when she fell back onto the bed with a look of surprise. Her brown hair formed a halo of soft curls around her head on the pillow. She smiled back at him, her reasons for leaving apparently forgotten for the moment. John crawled on top of her, determined to banish those reasons altogether.
John held down one feminine hand against the mattress as he settled above her. Her supernatural strength was far superior to his, she could easily escape from his grip if she so desired. He made her forget she could easily overpower him by rubbing his fingers between her legs. He let go of her hand and slipped his arm under her shoulders, cradling her while his lips greedily took over her own.
He slipped one finger then another into her body while his thumb rubbed small circles on her clit. Elizabeth's voice caught as she came under him, her back arching, green eyes flying wide.
She collapsed back on the bed, eyes closed, panting slightly. John kissed her while she recovered, enjoying each little tremble as the aftershocks subsided. She opened her eyes again and John stole another kiss as he entered her. His lips swallowed her gasp of pleasure.
John settled on his arms above her as he began to move slowly, in and out. He dipped his head forward to kiss her lightly.
"John," his name was a cry and a prayer on her lips.
"Is it so hard to stay?" he whispered into her ear. She made a small noise of confused protest and pleasure as he worked in and out of her body again. He judged her to be at the edge of patience with him. She'd left him in the middle of sex over this issue, but John was learning where the limits were.
John kissed the shell of her ear as he slid out slowly then pushed back in lazily. She kissed the side of his neck then down to his shoulder then back again. John could feel the hard points of her teeth press into his skin on the return trip. He tilted his head further to the side, allowing her better access.
Her lips glided across his skin as she whispered quietly. John didn't understand everything she said, but he'd begun learning the language of the Ancients. Her tone was encouraging, her hands on his shoulders and her legs on his hips urging him faster. John leaned back to look at her.
Elizabeth's pale green eyes were wide, her lips parted, the pale points of her teeth just visible in the low light. She drew him down for a kiss then began to whisper into his ear. John let her take him, let her power rush over him like a comforting blanket. He moved faster as her words grew more urgent and intense. John kissed down the side of her neck. nipping playfully as he moved faster at her urging.
Elizabeth's long fangs scraped against his skin, sending little electric shockwaves down his spine.
John groaned. A year ago this wouldn't have been erotic. Her fangs were extended and she pressed them against his skin gently, so gently. John was nearing the edge. Elizabeth bit into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and John came hard, her spell turning the pain into intense pleasure that exploded behind his closed eyes.
John rocked into her unevenly as she lapped at the wound she'd created. Sated, John settled over her. The first time they'd lain together like this, he'd been worried about being too heavy, but then he'd seen her easily bend solid brass bars. John wrapped his arms around her languidly, still in a state of euphoria as she continued to draw blood.
Distantly, John knew his shoulder probably looked like a ragged mess at the moment; Vampire bites were not neat things. But John trusted Elizabeth not to kill him. She was a creature of absolute control. Which was part of the problem.
She licked over the shallow gashes then murmured a healing spell. John felt the touch of her power, so unlike human magic, as his flesh knit back together. She nuzzled the side of his neck, placing light kisses on the newly healed skin and muscle. John slid out of her and fell to the side, keeping her in the embrace of his arms.
He kissed her lips, deliberately tasting his own blood on them. She tried to hide her more feral nature, but he needed to embrace it. The only other option was running far away and he wasn't going to do that.
This was something he'd never have done a year ago, or even six months ago. He still hadn't even mentioned it to anyone else, knowing most of them wouldn't understand. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that Elizabeth did, but it felt so damn good. It made their connection stronger and bit by bit, Elizabeth was trusting him more.
John didn't know the details of her previous relationship, but he knew than not all of her lovers had let her feed off them. It was a powerful show of trust in vampire society where feral bloodlust ran strong and silent just under placid exteriors. John thanked Peter Grodin for that hint.
John glanced at the clock. It was still very early. Elizabeth's breath had evened out and they both succumbed to sleep within seconds.
John woke hours later when his alarm went off.
He aimed a smack at the device but it sprouted legs and skittered away out of his reach. John grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at the damn thing. The pillow connected and the shrill alarm shut off. He left it where it had fallen. He'd wind it before he went to bed that evening.
John reached over and wasn't surprised to find the other side of his bed empty. The sheets were still warm though, so Elizabeth hadn't left all that long ago. John sighed. It was progress. Muttering to himself, John dragged himself out of bed, taking the bedclothes with him. He dumped his bedding into the laundry chute, cursing then padded off to his bathroom for a shower.
Sunlight poured in through the many panes of the windows. The rooms John had chosen had once belonged to someone who'd liked stained glass. The windows had an extra layer of colored glass affixed to the underside. Since John's rooms were above the waterline, the bathroom was a cacophony of color when the sun shone. John washed quickly and returned to his bedroom to dress, checking the time as he went. It was still early. John would get commentary and gossip if he arrived early, but he got more if he arrived late. He didn't care so much if people teased him, but he preferred that Elizabeth not be brought into the discussion.
Her rank left Elizabeth in the spotlight. In a city occupied by Union States Marshals, Union Army, Canadian Military, a mixed scientific team and a handful of Vampires, Elizabeth was the sole figure on top. She'd been searching for Atlantis for longer than John had been alive and her position here was extremely important to her. John was in no way going to jeopardize her standing with the Vampire High Council. But he also wasn't going to let her hide behind that all-important job. He'd checked with Chuck Campbell, her apprentice. Sumner was between the two of them in the City's chain of command and John fell into some interesting loopholes even ignoring the fact that he wasn't her direct subordinate. Sumner grumbled, but it was perfectly acceptable by Vampire standards for John to court her. In fact, he'd gathered that some of her people would even encourage it.
John stifled a yawn as he entered the room they'd designated as a gym. He stayed to the edge of the room near the few mats, and well away from the combatants at the center. The walls and ceiling were made of rich red wood paneling. The fourth wall was made of stained glass windows from floor to ceiling. The panels folded away completely opening the room to a small dirt courtyard. The flooring was the hard-not-quite stone that much of the city was made off, which was why they'd had some mats brought into the city. They were still rough, but it was better than being thrown into the ground in a rough fight; like the one happening now.
[
Sumner was sparring with Teyla. A tall man with piercing blue eyes and close-cropped blond hair, Sumner was the head of the small Union military contingent in Atlantis. John and the other Union Marshals O'Neill had transferred to the city were assigned under him. The man had a reputation for being stubborn and straight-laced, though he'd seemed to loosen up a little, at least where John was concerned. But he was still a military man, which meant everyone under his command kept a strict training regimen, including himself.
Yesterday had been practice with weapons. This morning was hand-to-hand combat.
Steel flashed in the early morning sunlight, glinting off Sumner's left arm. He'd lost it and a leg years before in a Confederate attack and now had mechanical replacements. The inner gears and pistons whirred as he moved to block her blow, claws meeting steel.
Most people considered his opponent a bit on the small side, especially for a werewolf. But in the months since this Athosian warrior had joined their expedition John had learned never to underestimate Teyla. What she lacked in size, she made up for in agility and speed. She was currently in her werewolf form - sporting a dark grey overcoat and cream colored underbelly. A blaze of cinnamon covered her nose and between her eyes. The same color ran in a line between the grey and pale colored fur, stretching out across her long limbs to her claws. She used that longer reach and faster reflex to her advantage.
"A bit early this morning," Sumner called out when he caught sight of John in the entryway.
"Yes, sir," John said, shrugging off his jacket and reaching for one of the lightly padded leather vests in the cupboard wall.
Sumner smirked and deflected Teyla's next blow, letting her claws connect with his metal arm and followed through with a grappling move. Teyla dodged away, ducking out of his grasp and twisting, tail tucked so he couldn't gab it. She dove to the side, landed on all fours then leapt for a pounce. Sumner dropped down at the last moment and used Teyla's momentum to fling her over his head as he hit the floor.
Teyla twisted and landed on her feet and one hand. She launched herself at Sumner again, tucking her head and ramming into him with her shoulder. Sumner stumbled a step back as they began to exchange blows. Teyla dug her claws into the leather cover on his shoulder and Sumner's arm came away with a hiss of pressure and a click.
Teyla stepped back, holding his arm aloft, her left ear canted to one side, tail swishing playfully. Her lower jaw dropped into a lazy lupine smile as she turned her wrist side to side, letting Sumner's arm flop.
"And I appear to have been disarmed," Sumner joked, sketching a bow to his sparring partner.
Teyla chuckled and tossed the arm back to its owner. "Good morning, John."
Teyla wore a simple top of dyed leather and a split skirt which allowed for easy movement as well as her tail. Adjustable straps enabled her to wear the outfit as a human and in her wolf form. She shifted back now, the fur falling away and turning into red-gold sparks that dissolved on the Aether while bones broke and muscle tore and re-knit together. She adjusted her skirt and tossed her hair back over her shoulder when she was done.
"Morning," John said easily as he strapped on some leather bracers. He wanted coffee but early morning exercise would keep him awake until he could get some. Breakfast always came after a possible beating. He'd learned that lesson the hard way when he'd been in the Union Army.
"So," Sumner said as he snapped the artificial arm back into place. "You're up early. She get bored of you already?" He smirked and twisted the metal wrist, wincing as the connection completed. He flexed his fingers and worked the arm around in a circle.
"Sir?" John asked, feigning ignorance.
Sumner rolled his eyes. "So where's your other partner?"
"Right here." Ronon stalked into the room. His feet were bare and he wore loose canvas pants. His shirt and long leather coat were tossed over one shoulder. His long had was braided into thick locks which were adorned with beads of bone and gold. He'd bound some slim feathers into his hair as well with thin leather cords. "We shifting for this?" he asked Teyla.
"Only if you want," Sumner answered instead, casually reminding Ronon where he stood in the hierarchy on Atlantis.
Sumner was the superior officer of the Union Army, John was the ranking Marshal and Teyla was the lead of the Canadian forces. The city held a collection of Union Marshals, three platoons of Union Army regular infantry, a platoon of Canadian Warriors, and a combined Canadian-Union platoon of battle mages. All of them answered to Sumner, including the werewolves like Ronon.
"Whatever." Ronon tossed his coat and shirt aside.
He squared off against John and brought up his fists in a fighting stance. John looked at him for a moment then assumed his own stance. They began to spar, Ronon pointedly ignoring the presence of the others.
Sumner hadn't quite earned the respect of Ronon and other werewolves who weren't already under his command. It was a wolf thing to push that boundary constantly until they felt the person in charge had earned the right to be there. Asking Teyla was an openly defiant act, but John was impressed Sumner recognized that and dealt with it appropriately. When they'd first met, John had been sure Sumner was one of the hardline career army officers who only thought from a human perspective. A certain ordeal in the Yellowstone Caldera had changed John's opinion of the man.
Ronon came at John with an aggressive flurry of fists. John blocked with his arms and took the wicked impacts on the leather bracers.
"Hey," John protested.
"Keep up."
John scowled. “I am.”
Ronon was not happy with John's choice of bedroom partners. He could deal with Vampires on a professional level with no issue, but he was against John bedding one. He'd taken to using the morning sessions to physically make his opinions known. John grit his teeth and sparred with the other man. He knew Ronon would get over it eventually.
The door slid open and Bates walked in. A battle mage by training, he lazily twirled a dark wooden staff carved with runes and capped with electrum. Bates was Sumner's second among the Union Regular army, but ranked below John on Atlantis.
"Hand to hand today," Sumer told him.
Bates nodded and carefully set the quarterstaff on a rack by the door. The rest of the morning crew wandered in closely behind him. Evan Lorne, John's own second among the Union marshals, yawned loudly as he entered. John nodded a greeting. Evan's look of surprise made John suddenly aware that he'd turned his back on Ronon. John ducked and the Satedan went sailing over his head.
Ronon landed on all fours, long hair swinging free of the bindings he normally used to keep it held back. John crouched into a more balanced stance, pleased he hadn't been caught by the tactic, but annoyed.
“You need to focus on the here and now,” Ronon growled, “not on everything else."
He sprang at John once more, shifting his form swiftly as he moved. Bones crunched audibly and pushed against his skin, the facial structures lengthening as the lupine muzzle forced its way outwards. The arm reaching for John lengthened as it cracked and grew. Wicked claws no natural wolf had ever possessed extruded from Ronon's fingertips.
John ducked out of the way, grabbed Ronon's wrist and tried to haul him to the side. The skin under his hands exploded in clear liquid, split membrane and brown fur which made John lose his grip. The long locks of dreaded hair fell away with the sloughed off skin, dissolving into a fine red-gold dust before swirling away on the Aether.
"I hate it when you do that," John complained, shaking the goop off his hand.
"I know," Ronon replied with a feral grin.
John couldn't blame him for wanting to practice. Shifting mid-battle was a skill that had taken years to learn and which needed to be exercised or Ronon would become slower at it. Still John wasn't oblivious to the fact that Ronon had chosen him to practice against.
Ronon adjusted his pants for his bushy tail then crossed furry arms over his broad chest. Ronon's dense fur was a brindle pattern of dark brown on brown with only the tip of his tail solid in the darker shade. He gained nearly a foot in height after transformation and now looked down at John with impatience.
"Why does that happen, anyway?" John complained as he wiped the remaining goop off on his pants. "The… whatever it is on you just goes away but anyone else who's been slimed in the process stays that way."
"Magic."
John rolled his eyes. "Cute."
"You done talking?" Ronon asked
“Maybe.”
John had the sudden insight to duck again, and barely missed being tackled. John spun and the two fought, exchanging blows which stung but didn't do more than bruising damage. Ronon wasn't using his claws to rip John to shreds, which he could easily have done, but he wasn't holding back either. John finally zigged when he should have zagged and Ronon sent him sprawling to the mats. The rough leather provided some cushion against the hard floor, but not much. John recovered and got to his feet, meeting Ronon's next blow with a block.
After an hour's practice, Ronon clapped his partner on the shoulder as he left. John winced under the friendly blow. Ronon seemed to be in a much less surly mood, but John on the other hand was sporting some bruises which would probably be a cornucopia of colorful pain by day's end.
Some days it hurt to be him.
Elizabeth breathed out, letting the soft sound of the water cascading over the rocks soothe her psyche. She sat in a little balcony garden off her chosen rooms in the shade, facing the vast ocean. She'd left John before dawn again. She part of her hadn't wanted to, but the greater part decided she'd needed to. Perhaps she was kidding herself into thinking that not everyone in the city knew she'd taken John Sheppard as a lover, but she still felt the need to maintain some level of professionalism. Besides she knew if she stayed they'd both be late for their respective duties.
She focused on her early morning meditation and tried to put thoughts of her lover out of her head. As usual she was hard pressed to do so, which only made her more irritated and resolved to maintain control over her life. Finding she was making little headway into achieving a meditative state, she tried reason, pulling out her thoughts and feelings on John and examining them.
Her attraction was a simple matter of biology. When her race had been made, their saviors had interfered with the dark magic. Vampires had been intended to be a race that propagated by death and the Ancients had only been able to partially fix the damage done to her ancestors before they'd disappeared. Vampires were precariously few in number and plagued by low fertility. To combat this, Vampire females had been given the ability to sense compatible males.
John was one of only three men she'd met in her entire lifetime that she'd experienced that instant recognition with. Her attraction was borne of biology and perhaps novelty. Three was an exceptionally low number, though she had to admit she hadn't been looking. Elizabeth reconciled that he'd caught her interest because of some deep instinct too promote her race. She examined that feeling and set it aside.
John was alluring. He had a good heart. He was occasionally irritating, especially when he bickered with Rodney McKay, but it wasn't mean spirited. He understood duty in a way that resonated with her own deeply held values. He'd begun to court her in a manner that showed he cared about her feelings on her position here. He was physically attractive as well and, truth be told, it felt good to feed her more primal appetites with him in bed. He trusted her. She examined each trait like a shiny bauble then set them too aside.
He was too good to be true if her last disastrous relationship was anything to judge by. Perhaps she was still rebounding from that rejection and thus disinclined to think rationally. Elizabeth set all these thoughts and feelings aside, mentally setting them down and out of her line of sight so they could not bother her. She could feel reason returning and with it calm.
The last image she saw before she let her eyes close was the sunlight dancing on the surface of the sea. It was an image very few born to her race had ever seen. An incomprehensible fusion of magic and technology filled the city, and one such miraculous aspect was the glass which kept her safe from the sun's lethal rays.
Elizabeth had been on the trail of Atlantis for years before enough pieces had fallen together than she'd been able to locate the fabled Heart of Atlantis, the key to the city. She'd followed the trail to the North American continent. The Union had had minimal contact with her government, but had been willing to assist, provided they could reap some of the benefit. President O’Neill had suggested sending some of his best men for the job. These men included John Sheppard, Marshall Sumner and Ronon Dex. O'Neill was especially adamant about John's inclusion. Sheppard, he promised, was an exemplary soldier as well as one of the rare humans who had the special touch with Ancient artifacts.
She'd gained further allies in Canada. Jeannie Miller, Empress of Canada was a friend of both the Union and of one of Elizabeth's own friends, a woman named Charin. Through those connections Elizabeth's party had grown to including Charin's granddaughter Teyla, a skilled doctor named Carson Beckett, and Jeannie's own brother, Rodney McKay.
The journey had been perilous and filled with unexpected dangers. They'd nearly been killed by Wraith, had almost killed one another, had saved a young healer named Jennifer Keller, had snuck into Wraith territory undetected and then assaulted a Wraith Hive, stealing back the Heart of Atlantis from the demonic Wraith and fleeing through an unexpected Gateway into Atlantis.
Once though the Gateway, the bittersweet joy she'd felt at surviving and finally finding the city was abruptly curtailed when the Guardians, spirits of long dead Ancients, Dragons, had manifested and demanded the intruders identify themselves. Fortunately the expedition had avoided annihilation at the hands of two irate spirits because they possessed the Heart and because of John Sheppard's natural affinity for the Ancients' technology.
Five months on and they had barely scratched the surface of Atlantis' secrets. Her new home was as wondrous as she envisioned as a child, even filled with all the dangers and challengers she'd been wary of as an adult.
A small chime roused her from her inner thoughts, reminding her of the first appointment this morning. With great gain had also come great loss and responsibility. They'd very nearly not survived the death of the hive they'd taken the Heart from. The Wraith in question had worked it into their own magic somehow and the hive had begun to collapse. Peter Grodin had been her partner for many years and had been a friend. He'd chosen to remain behind and save everyone else from certain death. Elizabeth had promised him she'd continue his apprentice's training and now it was up to her to be a mentor to Chuck Campbell.
Elizabeth paused in the shade of the courtyard doorway. The sun still unnerved her even after months in Atlantis. The great domes of the city were made of the same precious glass her people used in masks. Exceptionally hard, it had been treated in a forgotten process which allowed in light, but somehow prevented a Vampire from being burned by the sun. Good eyepieces were highly prized. Elizabeth was lucky enough to have acquired three masks with such glass. Some in the High Council wanted to dismantle some of the panels so that more eyepieces or even windows could be made.
She'd fight the High Council if they wanted to dismantle this place. Aside from loving the city on behalf of her father and even putting aside her interest in it as a historical location, Elizabeth very much doubted that most Vampires could ever get used to so much sun. They'd seen a small but steady stream of Vampires in and out of the city since she'd taken command. Only a few were present even now, but only herself and her apprentice had taken permanent residence. The sun and the diurnal schedule they kept was unnerving for practically every Vampire who set foot in the city, herself included.
Chuck, it seemed, was determined to become a singular exception.
Her apprentice was practicing his sword forms in the courtyard she'd designated as a training space. Months ago it had been a dusty lot. Now that the city was on the surface, the Atlantis's automatic systems watered and cut the green lawns. Chuck was bare-chested except for a shoulder guard and bracers. He was also wearing a kilt. Elizabeth lifted a slim eyebrow as she watched Chuck finish the form.
"Good morning!" he said when he caught sight of her in the shadow of the central building. "Just finishing."
"I can see that," Elizabeth mused. "Where did you get a kilt?"
"Dr. Beckett," Chuck replied as he completed The Tiger form and seamlessly transitioned into The Swooping Crane, balancing for a moment before he began the long, elegant movements which shared much with Tai chi. "He let me try one of his then got his family to send another in his last package from home. I believe this is his family tartan."
Elizabeth followed his progress as the single sword cut through the air, drawing patterns and throwing reflections on the surrounding grass as it flashed in the sunlight. Elizabeth idly noted where Chuck's form was improving and where she'd like to see him tighten a bit, or center his stance more. The amount of skin on display was distracting. Not because she was attracted to Chuck, though he wasn't ugly, far from it, but because he was practicing in broad daylight.
Elizabeth had practiced in far less. In fact, her Mentor had had her run the thousand steps from the monastery to the high shrine in nothing more than her undergarments. When she'd complained, Ganos Lal, the head monk at the time, had made her do it twice more. Naked. Early spring on the Tibetan plateau was not warm. But that had been in the middle of the night. She'd had to hurry to complete her task before the sun rose. She was fairly certain her teachers wouldn't have let her come to harm when the dawn arrived, but she hadn't wanted to push her luck.
"You seem to be getting over your aversion to sunlight," Elizabeth commented as she stepped out into the courtyard.
If her apprentice could withstand it, she could. At least for awhile. She didn’t know how John could walk around without squinting all the time.
"Well," Chuck was breathy heavily at the end of his workout. The crane stances as they'd been taught included a series of poses that required the practitioner to hold for up to several minutes, right when their muscles had already begun to scream for mercy. "I figured the best way to get over it was to embrace it."
He wobbled slightly as he shifted position. The sword dropped slightly and Elizabeth lifted it back up with a finger.
"Short of going around nude, or in a loin-cloth or something silly, this is the best I could come up with," he admitted, wincing in pain as he fought to keep the blade up. "It's actually delightfully breezy."
Elizabeth smirked as she paced behind him. She wasn't sure that a pair of cut off pants or even a loin cloth would have been more silly. Though she supposed Chuck had the complexion to be a Scotsman. He finished the form and heaved a sigh as he went for a towel and mopped his brow.
"It's hot under the sun, but not as bad as doing those forms in full gear," he admitted between heaving breaths.
Elizabeth nodded mutely as she completed her circuit around the courtyard. She paused as Chuck wandered over, undoing the buckles on his right bracer.
"Look at this," he said, amusement plain in his voice. "I've got the beginnings of something called a "tan line". I noticed it yesterday and asked Carson. He also warned me about something called "sunburn". What is that?"
"A burn caused by the sun," Elizabeth replied. Chuck gave her an exasperated look and she laughed quietly. "Humans, and werewolves in their human form, can burn in the sun. Not as we do obviously, but their skin can become red and painful from too much exposure."
"Never knew that," Chuck stated as he reattached the bracer. "What are we doing this morning?"
"I'm not sure," Elizabeth mused, tapping a finger against her lower lip. "Perhaps some of the defensive techniques? Maybe more levitation? We could see how deep the earth in their courtyards goes," she wondered aloud as she continued to walk around "You could dig the hole without your hands until we found the bottom and then fill it in again."
Chuck's face fell momentarily but he quickly masked his disappointment. Elizabeth laughed lightly. She turned so the sun was at her back and not so much of an annoyance. She'd had Chuck move huge boulders through the Gateway and into this space weeks ago in preparation, allowing him to exercise other skills. Now it was time to use them as targets.
"I'm kidding. Rntati!" she said, feeding the word power and flicking her wrist to direct the flow of energy.
The pure power, the essence of the word, slammed into the boulder. Gravel and dust fell away from the thin gash she'd rent in the stone with a single utterance. The bolder stood as it was for a moment before the top half of it slid to one side then toppled to the ground. Chuckle whistled in appreciation.
Chuck's last lesson had been in healing, knitting bone back together. Now it was time to learn another lesson in destruction. Balance was an important part of life and the philosophies central to their order. There was chaos of destruction and chaos of creation. Words could harm as well as heal and one did not need to use any special power to create or destroy with them. Knowing both sides of a thing allowed for control and clear mindedness which permitted one to know when it was time to use which skill.
Vampires were a truly terrible race and none knew this better than their most powerful members. It was why the monks of Shangri-la had taken the very first of their order and trained them to respect their power and the responsibility they to use that power wisely. Elizabeth shuddered to think what would have happened if the calm and control the monks taught had not permeated her people's culture. At worst they'd be the demons they'd intended to be. At best they'd be…like Genii.
Chuck squared off against the boulder and repeated the word. A small chunk of marble sailed off into the grass. He shrugged and tried again. Elizabeth stopped him after a few minutes.
"Think less of the word. Your pronunciation is fine. Think more of what the word truly is. It is from the Ancient tongue, so think of the concept that it embodies. You remember what Peter told you about iron and steel when you made your swords?"
Chuck nodded. "The Ancient tongue is as close to the true name of a thing as has been discovered. Naming something gives access to it."
"Access. Not power over it. Correct. What verb is this?"
"Rntati means to cut. It embodies cleaving something cleanly, quickly and efficiently," Chuck replied as he slashed the word against the rock again. A thin line appeared in the marble. He nodded in satisfaction as he wiped his brow.
"Closer. Why do we practice martial arts?"
"Uh," Chuck faltered, not following her train of thought for a moment before something clicked in the back of his mind. "Because it teaches the skills we need to work more effectively?"
"Textbook answer," Elizabeth smiled as she perched on another marble slab, out of his range of fire. "Care to elaborate?"
"I know this," Chuck said as he rubbed a hand though his hair. He turned around and looked at her. "I'm supposed to visualize, huh?"
Elizabeth smiled and gestured at the rock in answer. He was getting it, even if he needed to be reminded on occasion. Chuck squared off once more against the rock and Elizabeth could practically see him approaching the problem differently. This time a small section of the rock slid away. Chuck wiped his forehead again. Doing it correctly always took more effort the first few hundred times, but he'd gain more stamina and better control. Currently he was pouring everything into each blow, which wasn't exactly correct, but not uncommon for someone who hadn't had centuries of experience.
There was a whisper of a movement off to one side and Elizabeth caught their growing audience out of her peripheral vision. She didn't mind as long as they didn't distract the lesson. She was aware that demonstrations of power were unnerving to some of the humans. She sighed and slid off the rock, thinking about what she wanted to say while Chuck caught his breath.
"This is clearly a destructive spell," she stated.
Chuck sank to the ground then belatedly forgot he was wearing a kilt and shifted so he wasn't indecent. "Is it?" he asked.
Elizabeth arched a brow and continued her slow circle of the immediate area. The sun really was annoying. She glared obliquely at it and moved so she stood in the thin band of shade cats by the structural supports of the massive dome. She made a mental note to ask John where he got his broad-rimmed hats.
"Well, it's a smooth cut. Surgical." Chuck wiped the back of his neck. "Uhm, it could quarry rock, harvest grain. Uh, against someone it'd be a quick death, but…if you controlled the depth you could cut skin neatly for example." He froze then grinned and she could see he got it.
"The healing spell could be over-used and actually kill someone. This one could possibly save someone," he decided.
She nodded once. "Exactly. Your task is to turn this boulder into fine dust using only small, controlled cuts." She rested her hand on the smaller of the two stones she'd had him practice levitation on.
"What?" Chuck asked, eyeing the waist high stone with a pole-axed expression.
"Death by a thousand little cuts," Elizabeth quoted her mentor. "By sundown." She repressed an evil smile. "I'll even excuse you from your other tasks today and allow you to have lunch."
Chuck made a small sound of dismay and Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. Her mentor, Negotiator Mal Doran, had been right. It was far more fun to give that assignment than it was to do it. She glided across the ground toward the cool sanctuary of the shadows.
John leaned against the door, obviously just having come from his own workout given the sheen of sweat at his temple. "Kind of harsh," he commented, offering his arm.
Elizabeth hesitated for a second, aware of the audience watching her apprentice slowly demolish his target. She placed a hand on his arm to decline the offer, but stood close by his side. John didn’t quite cover the flash of disappointment, but accepted her close presence. They began walking in the direction of the kitchens. Elizabeth had already eaten, but John still needed breakfast. She could hear his stomach rumbling.
"I did it when I was his age," she said, reflecting on how much she'd hated that boulder by the end of that night. "But there are valuable lessons there." She could also remember the satisfaction when she'd stumbled across the solution and had reduced the last third quickly and efficiently.
"Like?"
"He's trying to use brute force too much. The task goes much faster if he doesn’t try to overpower it. He'll be tired but he won't be completed wretched. He could even be done by lunch if he figures it out."
"Work smarter not harder. Think he'll be done by noon?"
"Doubtful. That particular lesson is for those of us who need it. I do have a question for you, however."
"Yeah?"
"The Sun is very bright."
John chuckled. "You noticed that, huh?" He grinned at her playful smack. "So what's your question?"
"Where do you get your hats?"
John laughed as he escorted her down the hall.
The Great Barrier near Athosian Territory, Western Canada, North America
"Here they come," Jeannie Miller, Empress of Canada, murmured under her breath.
The explosion was sudden and deafening. The stone wall exploded into dust and bits of flying masonry. The barest suggestion of a ragged hole could be seen through the thick dust which began to shimmer unnaturally rather than clear in the breeze. One of the battle mages erupted with a jet of flame, firing blindly into the shimmering air. The fireball sailed into the middle of the hole in the three story high wall and illuminated a grotesque figure.
The Wraith.
The demon-cast illusion fell apart with the intrusion of the mage's fire. The fireball landed on the lower abdomen of the Wraith drone, searing it. The demon reared up, flailing at the fire with its forelimbs, and screeching behind the blank chitin mask. With the concealing illusion gone, the battle mage and two Athosian warriors focused their fire onto the drone, sending crossbow bolts, bullets and fireballs into the creature's humanoid upper torso and spider-like lower abdomen. It bled black ichor as it died.
Cannon fire landed in the middle of the rubble, blasting the Illusion away entirely as the Wraith mage supporting it died. The Wraith covered the wall, clinging to the top and sides like the spiders they resembled. The Wraith flowing through the breach paused for just a fraction as the Illusion shattered around them, like insects startled by sudden sunlight. Then they began to move boldly. The warriors began to engage the faceless drones who dropped down to the ground now that their cover was blown.
Jeannie tightened her hands on the railing of her airship and watched the new breach in the wall she looked through her binoculars past the breach. Now that the air was clear she could what lay behind. What she saw made her blood run cold. More Wraith were pressed against one another, waiting to come in, a seething black mass that shifted under a stronger magical shield that turned the air above them a sickly green.
The bulk of her war mechs were still a half mile away, being carefully piloted by remote control. The few mech present were mostly driven by operators but there were one or two remote controls. Huge mechanical creations with as many designs as there were pilots, ranging from the sleek to the awkward, from the dirty and scuffed to the highly polished and accented with gold and gemstones, they stood in a rough approximation of a line. They waited just beyond the treeline where they had more cover, waiting for the signal from Jeannie's airship which hovered just over the forest canopy. The land immediately around the Barrier had always been kept clear of trees taller than a man. The wild grass between the huge stone wall and the trees waved in the slight breeze.
"Ma'am," one of her generals said nervously.
"There are at least three hundred of them on the other side," Jeannie answered his unspoken question. "Wait on the mechs."
The man sighed and repeated her order.
Jeannie lowered her binoculars and watched the breach with her own eyes for a moment, taking in more of the battle than the binoculars would allow. It was really a pain. She should invent wider lenses to allow for more peripheral vision. Which she could do if she just- No. She had to focus.
The Barrier was thirty feet tall, twelve feet thick at the base and nearly eight at the top. It was reinforced with heavy ironwork and steel and had only been built in the last decade, meant to withstand heavy punishment. Never before had the Wraith attacked the wall with such success.
The Wraith were pouring out of the breach in greater numbers now and the ground forces began to withdraw under their numbers. Jeannie looked through the binoculars again and spotted another mage. The demon had a distinctive red pattern on his chest. By that marking Jeannie noted it was yet another hive, bringing the total up to five different ones in Canada alone. The Union was dealing with a similar crisis and had noted the same phenomenon.
Neither Jeannie nor President O'Neill could think of a reason why the Wraith were attacking now. Wraith were savage creatures who took advantage of weakness and rarely entertained ideas of revenge. The Barrier was strong and well maintained- not a weak target to be preyed upon. Nothing about these attacks made any sense.
"Send in the mechs," Jeannie ordered.
The order was repeated and the retreat was sounded for the non-armored forces. The heavy mechanical suits or remote controlled war-clanks lumbered forward. They sported an impressive array of destructive implements; claws, war hammers, flails, heavy caliber guns, cannons and even flame throwers. They moved forward and crashed against the onslaught of Wraith, literally cutting some down before them with automatic saws and spinning scythes. Someone with a mounted a flame thrower was pouring fire into the breach in the barrier. The Wraith walked over their own dead and continued to cross through the hole in the massive wall. The grass around the area caught fire, black smoke and flickering firelight to the hellish engagement.
"Estimated time until we have reinforcements?" Jeannie asked without taking her eyes off the battle.
She'd used her status as Empress to press the local Mad Scientists to bring their war mechs to the front when they'd received word that the Wraith were close to a breach here. The bulk of her personal army had been hours away, having just finished dealing with another breach further North. That was something else that puzzled her - the locations of the attacks didn't seem to have any sort of pattern.
"Another ten minutes Empress," her general responded after a clear hesitation.
Jeannie set her jaw and forced herself not to think about how she could make her mechs faster. She'd have time left for experimentation later. First she needed to help her people survive this. Ten minutes and her personal mechs would be here to bolster the local forces. They needed to survive just ten minutes.
There was a flash of light and a muffled explosion and one of the remote mechs went down under the press of spider-like bodies. What she assumed was the controlling aircraft backed off out of range. The Wraith mage once again unleashed what looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt. The blue-white streak shot into another one of the suits, instantly frying the circuitry. This one was piloted and didn't have the telltale antennae or unwieldy umbilical cables the previous one had.
Jeannie wasn't the only person who swore as the huge device shut down with a series of small explosions. The top half collapsed to one side like a puppet with the strings cut. Smoke curled up out of the joints and the Wraith fell upon the person inside. Jeannie cringed as their claws cut into the metal and tore it apart. The heavy steel squealed as the drones ripped and pulled. Their claws came back red and Jeannie prayed the man inside had already been killed by the lightning.
The airship she was in had been fast but ill equipped to be much of a force on its own. It wasn't a warship. It had had the speed she'd needed to deliver her army's battle mages to assist the local forces.
"Time!" she called out.
"Five minutes!"
"Damn," she swore.
The battle was not going well and this was the third in the past few days. She'd have to contact the Union and see if things were escalating equally there. The Athosian and regular Army battle mages had collected together and were focusing fire on a second Wraith mage when a Seneschal appeared.
The upper torso of the Seneschal looked nearly human, but his skin was a sickly, mottled green where visible. He wore chitin armor and carried a bone spear. Larger than the drones and more powerful than the mages, the Seneschal could easily cut through their small emergency force. Everyone on the air ship knew this and terrified chatter broke out among the crew, only to be silenced by a few barked orders from superior officers.
The drones and mages pressed their attack when the Seneschal joined them on the field. They too knew of the advantage they now had in both numbers and power The Seneschal's spear lit up with black fire as he raced for the group of human mages and their Athosian warrior guard, his white mane trailing out behind him. He easily knocked aside a mech twice his size and opened his mandible-like jaws, ruining the illusion of humanity.
For a horrified moment Jeannie watched helplessly as death ran down on her countrymen, only the Wraith was suddenly knocked back. More than one person stood in surprise.
Then there was a blinding explosion. Jeannie threw an arm across her eyes to shield them. After the flash there was utter silence then a deep rumble. The airship shuddered and dipped in the aftermath of the explosion hit them with a charged wind. It dropped slightly in the sky, but stabilized after a heart-stopping second.
Jeannie rubbed at her eyes.
"Who ordered a Nova?" one of her generals demanded.
"Who had one?" Jeannie asked, blinking in the brightness.
Explosions of that force and magnitude were expensive and unusual. All of the Nova-class explosive devices the Army had, had already been used against the Wraith. It was of concern that someone apparently had one in their personal stash that they hadn't turned over when they'd been instructed to.
When her vision cleared, Jeannie scanned the breach. Mercifully the charge had been shaped, directing most of the blast at the stone wall. The battle mages and warriors had been knocked back and most were staggering around, dazed but unharmed. Where the messy breach had been there was now a neat oval hole. Bits of masonry crumbled down from the overhanging sides into the voice where the heavy stone had been obliterated.
"Not that I'm entirely displeased but who did that?" Jeannie asked. As she waited for the response, she calculated how much time and how many resources it would take to repair the new, larger hole.
The Wraith were so many charred carapaces. A few injured specimens were limping away in retreat, but most were dead. The corpses at the edge of the blast were the most intact, the arachnoid legs of the lower torso were bent and pulled in death. Beyond the breach, the bulk of the Wraith army was retreating.
"One of the mech operators. We're bringing her up now," her general replied. He looked at the strip of paper from the repeater machine. "She says her name is Laura Cadman. She's claiming she made the Nova herself."
"Reckless, but useful," Jeannie commented. She'd heard the name Cadman before, but not specifically Laura.
"She's not in the registry," her general added, frowning at the tape as he fed it through his fingers, reading the text written on it.
"New to Canada, or young?" Jeannie wondered aloud.
Unlike in the United States or the Confederate States, the Scientists in Canada all had to be registered and conform to the formal Articles of War and Science. Most Scientists in Canada were immigrants and refugees from the Mad Science wars in Europe, driven to flee their former countries because of a desire to be their own masters and conduct experiments they, and not some local prince, wanted. So many egos in a single country had necessitated the creation of a code of proper procedure for conduct. Additionally, it made things like organizing formal rivalries and identifying bodies after experiments gone awry, easier.
"Young, I think," The general said, nodding to the young woman who was currently bring escorted their way.
Laura stopped in front of them and looked from Jeannie to her general and back again.
"I know I'm not supposed to make stuff like that but I wanted to see if I could, and I always make them shaped and the Wraith was," she trailed off and shook herself. "He had to go," she stated resolutely.
"You don't have a mentor," Jeannie stated.
"No," Laura replied. "I just got out of the University a month ago."
Jeannie smiled. This girl had promise, and while she needed brilliant people helping her on the front lines, Laura Cadman was on the reckless side still. She needed some training beyond her formal schooling.
"I think I might be able to help you there." Jeannie smiled brightly. "Tell me, Laura, do you like the sea?"
John/Elizabeth
Totally AU prompt
The City of Atlantis, Somewhere in the South Atlantic Ocean, Earth, 1835
John woke when the mattress shifted under him. He whined a complaint and dragged the pillow off his head and gazed around the room, bleary eyed. It was still dark outside. Cool sapphire moonlight filtered in through the gap in the drapes covering the window. He leaned on one arm and arched a quizzical brow when he found her.
Elizabeth froze, caught, her underwear dangling off one finger as she bent down to collect the rest of her discarded clothing. John thought he saw a flash of guilt before she schooled her features, concealing the barest hint of fang.
"Come back to bed," John drawled.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Elizabeth apologized as she drew her panties up her legs. She bent down to collect the rest of her clothes.
John sighed as he flopped back onto the mattress. He scrubbed a hand across his face, wiping sleep out of his eyes as he realized every morning spent in his quarters was like this. She'd get up, redress and head back to her own rooms. John always stayed the whole night when he was in her room, so she'd started to insist that they spend the night in his room to avoid such "lapses in judgment". Every night he tried to show her he wanted her to stay, but every morning she still left. Well, he'd known courting her wouldn't be easy. He’d be damned if he was just going to give up.
As Elizabeth tugged on her pants, John threw back the covers and decided maybe he'd have to try to keep her around in the morning by other means. He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind. The touch of her skin tingled against his senses and at the base of his spine. He breathed in sharply, feeling that mystical yet connection between them. John wondered if there was an addictive quality to the bond, and found he didn't care in the slightest.
"What are you doing?" she asked. John kissed her neck in answer, hugging her to him. His hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts. "John I need to leave."
John slid one hand down her stomach and into her unbuckled pants. He was usually half-hard in the mornings. The feel of her soft skin under his fingers and the way her breath hitched as he fondled her only made him harder. He rubbed against her rear. His fingers withdrew from her pants and he smiled at her soft groan of protest.
"Come back to bed," he whispered into her ear as he began to push her pants and underwear down.
"John," she protested weakly as he fingers teased her entrance and fondled her breasts.
"I don’t want you to go," John pouted. "I keep asking you to stay."
"I shouldn't."
"Yes," John kissed her neck. "You should."
"I-"
"Stay with me," John asked, his hands now still. He held her tightly. She turned in his embrace, her eyes falling shut briefly when his erection pressed against her stomach. His hand cupped her cheek. " How many times do you I have to say it for you to understand?"
"I do, I just-"
John kissed her, stopping the weak protests. He'd known pursuing a relationship would be hard, but he'd had no idea how hard. She was fighting him at every turn, but he was gaining ground. She melted bit by bit into his kisses and slowly he pushed her back towards the bed. He couldn't help the grin when she fell back onto the bed with a look of surprise. Her brown hair formed a halo of soft curls around her head on the pillow. She smiled back at him, her reasons for leaving apparently forgotten for the moment. John crawled on top of her, determined to banish those reasons altogether.
John held down one feminine hand against the mattress as he settled above her. Her supernatural strength was far superior to his, she could easily escape from his grip if she so desired. He made her forget she could easily overpower him by rubbing his fingers between her legs. He let go of her hand and slipped his arm under her shoulders, cradling her while his lips greedily took over her own.
He slipped one finger then another into her body while his thumb rubbed small circles on her clit. Elizabeth's voice caught as she came under him, her back arching, green eyes flying wide.
She collapsed back on the bed, eyes closed, panting slightly. John kissed her while she recovered, enjoying each little tremble as the aftershocks subsided. She opened her eyes again and John stole another kiss as he entered her. His lips swallowed her gasp of pleasure.
John settled on his arms above her as he began to move slowly, in and out. He dipped his head forward to kiss her lightly.
"John," his name was a cry and a prayer on her lips.
"Is it so hard to stay?" he whispered into her ear. She made a small noise of confused protest and pleasure as he worked in and out of her body again. He judged her to be at the edge of patience with him. She'd left him in the middle of sex over this issue, but John was learning where the limits were.
John kissed the shell of her ear as he slid out slowly then pushed back in lazily. She kissed the side of his neck then down to his shoulder then back again. John could feel the hard points of her teeth press into his skin on the return trip. He tilted his head further to the side, allowing her better access.
Her lips glided across his skin as she whispered quietly. John didn't understand everything she said, but he'd begun learning the language of the Ancients. Her tone was encouraging, her hands on his shoulders and her legs on his hips urging him faster. John leaned back to look at her.
Elizabeth's pale green eyes were wide, her lips parted, the pale points of her teeth just visible in the low light. She drew him down for a kiss then began to whisper into his ear. John let her take him, let her power rush over him like a comforting blanket. He moved faster as her words grew more urgent and intense. John kissed down the side of her neck. nipping playfully as he moved faster at her urging.
Elizabeth's long fangs scraped against his skin, sending little electric shockwaves down his spine.
John groaned. A year ago this wouldn't have been erotic. Her fangs were extended and she pressed them against his skin gently, so gently. John was nearing the edge. Elizabeth bit into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and John came hard, her spell turning the pain into intense pleasure that exploded behind his closed eyes.
John rocked into her unevenly as she lapped at the wound she'd created. Sated, John settled over her. The first time they'd lain together like this, he'd been worried about being too heavy, but then he'd seen her easily bend solid brass bars. John wrapped his arms around her languidly, still in a state of euphoria as she continued to draw blood.
Distantly, John knew his shoulder probably looked like a ragged mess at the moment; Vampire bites were not neat things. But John trusted Elizabeth not to kill him. She was a creature of absolute control. Which was part of the problem.
She licked over the shallow gashes then murmured a healing spell. John felt the touch of her power, so unlike human magic, as his flesh knit back together. She nuzzled the side of his neck, placing light kisses on the newly healed skin and muscle. John slid out of her and fell to the side, keeping her in the embrace of his arms.
He kissed her lips, deliberately tasting his own blood on them. She tried to hide her more feral nature, but he needed to embrace it. The only other option was running far away and he wasn't going to do that.
This was something he'd never have done a year ago, or even six months ago. He still hadn't even mentioned it to anyone else, knowing most of them wouldn't understand. He wasn't sure exactly what it was that Elizabeth did, but it felt so damn good. It made their connection stronger and bit by bit, Elizabeth was trusting him more.
John didn't know the details of her previous relationship, but he knew than not all of her lovers had let her feed off them. It was a powerful show of trust in vampire society where feral bloodlust ran strong and silent just under placid exteriors. John thanked Peter Grodin for that hint.
John glanced at the clock. It was still very early. Elizabeth's breath had evened out and they both succumbed to sleep within seconds.
John woke hours later when his alarm went off.
He aimed a smack at the device but it sprouted legs and skittered away out of his reach. John grabbed a pillow and lobbed it at the damn thing. The pillow connected and the shrill alarm shut off. He left it where it had fallen. He'd wind it before he went to bed that evening.
John reached over and wasn't surprised to find the other side of his bed empty. The sheets were still warm though, so Elizabeth hadn't left all that long ago. John sighed. It was progress. Muttering to himself, John dragged himself out of bed, taking the bedclothes with him. He dumped his bedding into the laundry chute, cursing then padded off to his bathroom for a shower.
Sunlight poured in through the many panes of the windows. The rooms John had chosen had once belonged to someone who'd liked stained glass. The windows had an extra layer of colored glass affixed to the underside. Since John's rooms were above the waterline, the bathroom was a cacophony of color when the sun shone. John washed quickly and returned to his bedroom to dress, checking the time as he went. It was still early. John would get commentary and gossip if he arrived early, but he got more if he arrived late. He didn't care so much if people teased him, but he preferred that Elizabeth not be brought into the discussion.
Her rank left Elizabeth in the spotlight. In a city occupied by Union States Marshals, Union Army, Canadian Military, a mixed scientific team and a handful of Vampires, Elizabeth was the sole figure on top. She'd been searching for Atlantis for longer than John had been alive and her position here was extremely important to her. John was in no way going to jeopardize her standing with the Vampire High Council. But he also wasn't going to let her hide behind that all-important job. He'd checked with Chuck Campbell, her apprentice. Sumner was between the two of them in the City's chain of command and John fell into some interesting loopholes even ignoring the fact that he wasn't her direct subordinate. Sumner grumbled, but it was perfectly acceptable by Vampire standards for John to court her. In fact, he'd gathered that some of her people would even encourage it.
John stifled a yawn as he entered the room they'd designated as a gym. He stayed to the edge of the room near the few mats, and well away from the combatants at the center. The walls and ceiling were made of rich red wood paneling. The fourth wall was made of stained glass windows from floor to ceiling. The panels folded away completely opening the room to a small dirt courtyard. The flooring was the hard-not-quite stone that much of the city was made off, which was why they'd had some mats brought into the city. They were still rough, but it was better than being thrown into the ground in a rough fight; like the one happening now.
[
Sumner was sparring with Teyla. A tall man with piercing blue eyes and close-cropped blond hair, Sumner was the head of the small Union military contingent in Atlantis. John and the other Union Marshals O'Neill had transferred to the city were assigned under him. The man had a reputation for being stubborn and straight-laced, though he'd seemed to loosen up a little, at least where John was concerned. But he was still a military man, which meant everyone under his command kept a strict training regimen, including himself.
Yesterday had been practice with weapons. This morning was hand-to-hand combat.
Steel flashed in the early morning sunlight, glinting off Sumner's left arm. He'd lost it and a leg years before in a Confederate attack and now had mechanical replacements. The inner gears and pistons whirred as he moved to block her blow, claws meeting steel.
Most people considered his opponent a bit on the small side, especially for a werewolf. But in the months since this Athosian warrior had joined their expedition John had learned never to underestimate Teyla. What she lacked in size, she made up for in agility and speed. She was currently in her werewolf form - sporting a dark grey overcoat and cream colored underbelly. A blaze of cinnamon covered her nose and between her eyes. The same color ran in a line between the grey and pale colored fur, stretching out across her long limbs to her claws. She used that longer reach and faster reflex to her advantage.
"A bit early this morning," Sumner called out when he caught sight of John in the entryway.
"Yes, sir," John said, shrugging off his jacket and reaching for one of the lightly padded leather vests in the cupboard wall.
Sumner smirked and deflected Teyla's next blow, letting her claws connect with his metal arm and followed through with a grappling move. Teyla dodged away, ducking out of his grasp and twisting, tail tucked so he couldn't gab it. She dove to the side, landed on all fours then leapt for a pounce. Sumner dropped down at the last moment and used Teyla's momentum to fling her over his head as he hit the floor.
Teyla twisted and landed on her feet and one hand. She launched herself at Sumner again, tucking her head and ramming into him with her shoulder. Sumner stumbled a step back as they began to exchange blows. Teyla dug her claws into the leather cover on his shoulder and Sumner's arm came away with a hiss of pressure and a click.
Teyla stepped back, holding his arm aloft, her left ear canted to one side, tail swishing playfully. Her lower jaw dropped into a lazy lupine smile as she turned her wrist side to side, letting Sumner's arm flop.
"And I appear to have been disarmed," Sumner joked, sketching a bow to his sparring partner.
Teyla chuckled and tossed the arm back to its owner. "Good morning, John."
Teyla wore a simple top of dyed leather and a split skirt which allowed for easy movement as well as her tail. Adjustable straps enabled her to wear the outfit as a human and in her wolf form. She shifted back now, the fur falling away and turning into red-gold sparks that dissolved on the Aether while bones broke and muscle tore and re-knit together. She adjusted her skirt and tossed her hair back over her shoulder when she was done.
"Morning," John said easily as he strapped on some leather bracers. He wanted coffee but early morning exercise would keep him awake until he could get some. Breakfast always came after a possible beating. He'd learned that lesson the hard way when he'd been in the Union Army.
"So," Sumner said as he snapped the artificial arm back into place. "You're up early. She get bored of you already?" He smirked and twisted the metal wrist, wincing as the connection completed. He flexed his fingers and worked the arm around in a circle.
"Sir?" John asked, feigning ignorance.
Sumner rolled his eyes. "So where's your other partner?"
"Right here." Ronon stalked into the room. His feet were bare and he wore loose canvas pants. His shirt and long leather coat were tossed over one shoulder. His long had was braided into thick locks which were adorned with beads of bone and gold. He'd bound some slim feathers into his hair as well with thin leather cords. "We shifting for this?" he asked Teyla.
"Only if you want," Sumner answered instead, casually reminding Ronon where he stood in the hierarchy on Atlantis.
Sumner was the superior officer of the Union Army, John was the ranking Marshal and Teyla was the lead of the Canadian forces. The city held a collection of Union Marshals, three platoons of Union Army regular infantry, a platoon of Canadian Warriors, and a combined Canadian-Union platoon of battle mages. All of them answered to Sumner, including the werewolves like Ronon.
"Whatever." Ronon tossed his coat and shirt aside.
He squared off against John and brought up his fists in a fighting stance. John looked at him for a moment then assumed his own stance. They began to spar, Ronon pointedly ignoring the presence of the others.
Sumner hadn't quite earned the respect of Ronon and other werewolves who weren't already under his command. It was a wolf thing to push that boundary constantly until they felt the person in charge had earned the right to be there. Asking Teyla was an openly defiant act, but John was impressed Sumner recognized that and dealt with it appropriately. When they'd first met, John had been sure Sumner was one of the hardline career army officers who only thought from a human perspective. A certain ordeal in the Yellowstone Caldera had changed John's opinion of the man.
Ronon came at John with an aggressive flurry of fists. John blocked with his arms and took the wicked impacts on the leather bracers.
"Hey," John protested.
"Keep up."
John scowled. “I am.”
Ronon was not happy with John's choice of bedroom partners. He could deal with Vampires on a professional level with no issue, but he was against John bedding one. He'd taken to using the morning sessions to physically make his opinions known. John grit his teeth and sparred with the other man. He knew Ronon would get over it eventually.
The door slid open and Bates walked in. A battle mage by training, he lazily twirled a dark wooden staff carved with runes and capped with electrum. Bates was Sumner's second among the Union Regular army, but ranked below John on Atlantis.
"Hand to hand today," Sumer told him.
Bates nodded and carefully set the quarterstaff on a rack by the door. The rest of the morning crew wandered in closely behind him. Evan Lorne, John's own second among the Union marshals, yawned loudly as he entered. John nodded a greeting. Evan's look of surprise made John suddenly aware that he'd turned his back on Ronon. John ducked and the Satedan went sailing over his head.
Ronon landed on all fours, long hair swinging free of the bindings he normally used to keep it held back. John crouched into a more balanced stance, pleased he hadn't been caught by the tactic, but annoyed.
“You need to focus on the here and now,” Ronon growled, “not on everything else."
He sprang at John once more, shifting his form swiftly as he moved. Bones crunched audibly and pushed against his skin, the facial structures lengthening as the lupine muzzle forced its way outwards. The arm reaching for John lengthened as it cracked and grew. Wicked claws no natural wolf had ever possessed extruded from Ronon's fingertips.
John ducked out of the way, grabbed Ronon's wrist and tried to haul him to the side. The skin under his hands exploded in clear liquid, split membrane and brown fur which made John lose his grip. The long locks of dreaded hair fell away with the sloughed off skin, dissolving into a fine red-gold dust before swirling away on the Aether.
"I hate it when you do that," John complained, shaking the goop off his hand.
"I know," Ronon replied with a feral grin.
John couldn't blame him for wanting to practice. Shifting mid-battle was a skill that had taken years to learn and which needed to be exercised or Ronon would become slower at it. Still John wasn't oblivious to the fact that Ronon had chosen him to practice against.
Ronon adjusted his pants for his bushy tail then crossed furry arms over his broad chest. Ronon's dense fur was a brindle pattern of dark brown on brown with only the tip of his tail solid in the darker shade. He gained nearly a foot in height after transformation and now looked down at John with impatience.
"Why does that happen, anyway?" John complained as he wiped the remaining goop off on his pants. "The… whatever it is on you just goes away but anyone else who's been slimed in the process stays that way."
"Magic."
John rolled his eyes. "Cute."
"You done talking?" Ronon asked
“Maybe.”
John had the sudden insight to duck again, and barely missed being tackled. John spun and the two fought, exchanging blows which stung but didn't do more than bruising damage. Ronon wasn't using his claws to rip John to shreds, which he could easily have done, but he wasn't holding back either. John finally zigged when he should have zagged and Ronon sent him sprawling to the mats. The rough leather provided some cushion against the hard floor, but not much. John recovered and got to his feet, meeting Ronon's next blow with a block.
After an hour's practice, Ronon clapped his partner on the shoulder as he left. John winced under the friendly blow. Ronon seemed to be in a much less surly mood, but John on the other hand was sporting some bruises which would probably be a cornucopia of colorful pain by day's end.
Some days it hurt to be him.
Elizabeth breathed out, letting the soft sound of the water cascading over the rocks soothe her psyche. She sat in a little balcony garden off her chosen rooms in the shade, facing the vast ocean. She'd left John before dawn again. She part of her hadn't wanted to, but the greater part decided she'd needed to. Perhaps she was kidding herself into thinking that not everyone in the city knew she'd taken John Sheppard as a lover, but she still felt the need to maintain some level of professionalism. Besides she knew if she stayed they'd both be late for their respective duties.
She focused on her early morning meditation and tried to put thoughts of her lover out of her head. As usual she was hard pressed to do so, which only made her more irritated and resolved to maintain control over her life. Finding she was making little headway into achieving a meditative state, she tried reason, pulling out her thoughts and feelings on John and examining them.
Her attraction was a simple matter of biology. When her race had been made, their saviors had interfered with the dark magic. Vampires had been intended to be a race that propagated by death and the Ancients had only been able to partially fix the damage done to her ancestors before they'd disappeared. Vampires were precariously few in number and plagued by low fertility. To combat this, Vampire females had been given the ability to sense compatible males.
John was one of only three men she'd met in her entire lifetime that she'd experienced that instant recognition with. Her attraction was borne of biology and perhaps novelty. Three was an exceptionally low number, though she had to admit she hadn't been looking. Elizabeth reconciled that he'd caught her interest because of some deep instinct too promote her race. She examined that feeling and set it aside.
John was alluring. He had a good heart. He was occasionally irritating, especially when he bickered with Rodney McKay, but it wasn't mean spirited. He understood duty in a way that resonated with her own deeply held values. He'd begun to court her in a manner that showed he cared about her feelings on her position here. He was physically attractive as well and, truth be told, it felt good to feed her more primal appetites with him in bed. He trusted her. She examined each trait like a shiny bauble then set them too aside.
He was too good to be true if her last disastrous relationship was anything to judge by. Perhaps she was still rebounding from that rejection and thus disinclined to think rationally. Elizabeth set all these thoughts and feelings aside, mentally setting them down and out of her line of sight so they could not bother her. She could feel reason returning and with it calm.
The last image she saw before she let her eyes close was the sunlight dancing on the surface of the sea. It was an image very few born to her race had ever seen. An incomprehensible fusion of magic and technology filled the city, and one such miraculous aspect was the glass which kept her safe from the sun's lethal rays.
Elizabeth had been on the trail of Atlantis for years before enough pieces had fallen together than she'd been able to locate the fabled Heart of Atlantis, the key to the city. She'd followed the trail to the North American continent. The Union had had minimal contact with her government, but had been willing to assist, provided they could reap some of the benefit. President O’Neill had suggested sending some of his best men for the job. These men included John Sheppard, Marshall Sumner and Ronon Dex. O'Neill was especially adamant about John's inclusion. Sheppard, he promised, was an exemplary soldier as well as one of the rare humans who had the special touch with Ancient artifacts.
She'd gained further allies in Canada. Jeannie Miller, Empress of Canada was a friend of both the Union and of one of Elizabeth's own friends, a woman named Charin. Through those connections Elizabeth's party had grown to including Charin's granddaughter Teyla, a skilled doctor named Carson Beckett, and Jeannie's own brother, Rodney McKay.
The journey had been perilous and filled with unexpected dangers. They'd nearly been killed by Wraith, had almost killed one another, had saved a young healer named Jennifer Keller, had snuck into Wraith territory undetected and then assaulted a Wraith Hive, stealing back the Heart of Atlantis from the demonic Wraith and fleeing through an unexpected Gateway into Atlantis.
Once though the Gateway, the bittersweet joy she'd felt at surviving and finally finding the city was abruptly curtailed when the Guardians, spirits of long dead Ancients, Dragons, had manifested and demanded the intruders identify themselves. Fortunately the expedition had avoided annihilation at the hands of two irate spirits because they possessed the Heart and because of John Sheppard's natural affinity for the Ancients' technology.
Five months on and they had barely scratched the surface of Atlantis' secrets. Her new home was as wondrous as she envisioned as a child, even filled with all the dangers and challengers she'd been wary of as an adult.
A small chime roused her from her inner thoughts, reminding her of the first appointment this morning. With great gain had also come great loss and responsibility. They'd very nearly not survived the death of the hive they'd taken the Heart from. The Wraith in question had worked it into their own magic somehow and the hive had begun to collapse. Peter Grodin had been her partner for many years and had been a friend. He'd chosen to remain behind and save everyone else from certain death. Elizabeth had promised him she'd continue his apprentice's training and now it was up to her to be a mentor to Chuck Campbell.
Elizabeth paused in the shade of the courtyard doorway. The sun still unnerved her even after months in Atlantis. The great domes of the city were made of the same precious glass her people used in masks. Exceptionally hard, it had been treated in a forgotten process which allowed in light, but somehow prevented a Vampire from being burned by the sun. Good eyepieces were highly prized. Elizabeth was lucky enough to have acquired three masks with such glass. Some in the High Council wanted to dismantle some of the panels so that more eyepieces or even windows could be made.
She'd fight the High Council if they wanted to dismantle this place. Aside from loving the city on behalf of her father and even putting aside her interest in it as a historical location, Elizabeth very much doubted that most Vampires could ever get used to so much sun. They'd seen a small but steady stream of Vampires in and out of the city since she'd taken command. Only a few were present even now, but only herself and her apprentice had taken permanent residence. The sun and the diurnal schedule they kept was unnerving for practically every Vampire who set foot in the city, herself included.
Chuck, it seemed, was determined to become a singular exception.
Her apprentice was practicing his sword forms in the courtyard she'd designated as a training space. Months ago it had been a dusty lot. Now that the city was on the surface, the Atlantis's automatic systems watered and cut the green lawns. Chuck was bare-chested except for a shoulder guard and bracers. He was also wearing a kilt. Elizabeth lifted a slim eyebrow as she watched Chuck finish the form.
"Good morning!" he said when he caught sight of her in the shadow of the central building. "Just finishing."
"I can see that," Elizabeth mused. "Where did you get a kilt?"
"Dr. Beckett," Chuck replied as he completed The Tiger form and seamlessly transitioned into The Swooping Crane, balancing for a moment before he began the long, elegant movements which shared much with Tai chi. "He let me try one of his then got his family to send another in his last package from home. I believe this is his family tartan."
Elizabeth followed his progress as the single sword cut through the air, drawing patterns and throwing reflections on the surrounding grass as it flashed in the sunlight. Elizabeth idly noted where Chuck's form was improving and where she'd like to see him tighten a bit, or center his stance more. The amount of skin on display was distracting. Not because she was attracted to Chuck, though he wasn't ugly, far from it, but because he was practicing in broad daylight.
Elizabeth had practiced in far less. In fact, her Mentor had had her run the thousand steps from the monastery to the high shrine in nothing more than her undergarments. When she'd complained, Ganos Lal, the head monk at the time, had made her do it twice more. Naked. Early spring on the Tibetan plateau was not warm. But that had been in the middle of the night. She'd had to hurry to complete her task before the sun rose. She was fairly certain her teachers wouldn't have let her come to harm when the dawn arrived, but she hadn't wanted to push her luck.
"You seem to be getting over your aversion to sunlight," Elizabeth commented as she stepped out into the courtyard.
If her apprentice could withstand it, she could. At least for awhile. She didn’t know how John could walk around without squinting all the time.
"Well," Chuck was breathy heavily at the end of his workout. The crane stances as they'd been taught included a series of poses that required the practitioner to hold for up to several minutes, right when their muscles had already begun to scream for mercy. "I figured the best way to get over it was to embrace it."
He wobbled slightly as he shifted position. The sword dropped slightly and Elizabeth lifted it back up with a finger.
"Short of going around nude, or in a loin-cloth or something silly, this is the best I could come up with," he admitted, wincing in pain as he fought to keep the blade up. "It's actually delightfully breezy."
Elizabeth smirked as she paced behind him. She wasn't sure that a pair of cut off pants or even a loin cloth would have been more silly. Though she supposed Chuck had the complexion to be a Scotsman. He finished the form and heaved a sigh as he went for a towel and mopped his brow.
"It's hot under the sun, but not as bad as doing those forms in full gear," he admitted between heaving breaths.
Elizabeth nodded mutely as she completed her circuit around the courtyard. She paused as Chuck wandered over, undoing the buckles on his right bracer.
"Look at this," he said, amusement plain in his voice. "I've got the beginnings of something called a "tan line". I noticed it yesterday and asked Carson. He also warned me about something called "sunburn". What is that?"
"A burn caused by the sun," Elizabeth replied. Chuck gave her an exasperated look and she laughed quietly. "Humans, and werewolves in their human form, can burn in the sun. Not as we do obviously, but their skin can become red and painful from too much exposure."
"Never knew that," Chuck stated as he reattached the bracer. "What are we doing this morning?"
"I'm not sure," Elizabeth mused, tapping a finger against her lower lip. "Perhaps some of the defensive techniques? Maybe more levitation? We could see how deep the earth in their courtyards goes," she wondered aloud as she continued to walk around "You could dig the hole without your hands until we found the bottom and then fill it in again."
Chuck's face fell momentarily but he quickly masked his disappointment. Elizabeth laughed lightly. She turned so the sun was at her back and not so much of an annoyance. She'd had Chuck move huge boulders through the Gateway and into this space weeks ago in preparation, allowing him to exercise other skills. Now it was time to use them as targets.
"I'm kidding. Rntati!" she said, feeding the word power and flicking her wrist to direct the flow of energy.
The pure power, the essence of the word, slammed into the boulder. Gravel and dust fell away from the thin gash she'd rent in the stone with a single utterance. The bolder stood as it was for a moment before the top half of it slid to one side then toppled to the ground. Chuckle whistled in appreciation.
Chuck's last lesson had been in healing, knitting bone back together. Now it was time to learn another lesson in destruction. Balance was an important part of life and the philosophies central to their order. There was chaos of destruction and chaos of creation. Words could harm as well as heal and one did not need to use any special power to create or destroy with them. Knowing both sides of a thing allowed for control and clear mindedness which permitted one to know when it was time to use which skill.
Vampires were a truly terrible race and none knew this better than their most powerful members. It was why the monks of Shangri-la had taken the very first of their order and trained them to respect their power and the responsibility they to use that power wisely. Elizabeth shuddered to think what would have happened if the calm and control the monks taught had not permeated her people's culture. At worst they'd be the demons they'd intended to be. At best they'd be…like Genii.
Chuck squared off against the boulder and repeated the word. A small chunk of marble sailed off into the grass. He shrugged and tried again. Elizabeth stopped him after a few minutes.
"Think less of the word. Your pronunciation is fine. Think more of what the word truly is. It is from the Ancient tongue, so think of the concept that it embodies. You remember what Peter told you about iron and steel when you made your swords?"
Chuck nodded. "The Ancient tongue is as close to the true name of a thing as has been discovered. Naming something gives access to it."
"Access. Not power over it. Correct. What verb is this?"
"Rntati means to cut. It embodies cleaving something cleanly, quickly and efficiently," Chuck replied as he slashed the word against the rock again. A thin line appeared in the marble. He nodded in satisfaction as he wiped his brow.
"Closer. Why do we practice martial arts?"
"Uh," Chuck faltered, not following her train of thought for a moment before something clicked in the back of his mind. "Because it teaches the skills we need to work more effectively?"
"Textbook answer," Elizabeth smiled as she perched on another marble slab, out of his range of fire. "Care to elaborate?"
"I know this," Chuck said as he rubbed a hand though his hair. He turned around and looked at her. "I'm supposed to visualize, huh?"
Elizabeth smiled and gestured at the rock in answer. He was getting it, even if he needed to be reminded on occasion. Chuck squared off once more against the rock and Elizabeth could practically see him approaching the problem differently. This time a small section of the rock slid away. Chuck wiped his forehead again. Doing it correctly always took more effort the first few hundred times, but he'd gain more stamina and better control. Currently he was pouring everything into each blow, which wasn't exactly correct, but not uncommon for someone who hadn't had centuries of experience.
There was a whisper of a movement off to one side and Elizabeth caught their growing audience out of her peripheral vision. She didn't mind as long as they didn't distract the lesson. She was aware that demonstrations of power were unnerving to some of the humans. She sighed and slid off the rock, thinking about what she wanted to say while Chuck caught his breath.
"This is clearly a destructive spell," she stated.
Chuck sank to the ground then belatedly forgot he was wearing a kilt and shifted so he wasn't indecent. "Is it?" he asked.
Elizabeth arched a brow and continued her slow circle of the immediate area. The sun really was annoying. She glared obliquely at it and moved so she stood in the thin band of shade cats by the structural supports of the massive dome. She made a mental note to ask John where he got his broad-rimmed hats.
"Well, it's a smooth cut. Surgical." Chuck wiped the back of his neck. "Uhm, it could quarry rock, harvest grain. Uh, against someone it'd be a quick death, but…if you controlled the depth you could cut skin neatly for example." He froze then grinned and she could see he got it.
"The healing spell could be over-used and actually kill someone. This one could possibly save someone," he decided.
She nodded once. "Exactly. Your task is to turn this boulder into fine dust using only small, controlled cuts." She rested her hand on the smaller of the two stones she'd had him practice levitation on.
"What?" Chuck asked, eyeing the waist high stone with a pole-axed expression.
"Death by a thousand little cuts," Elizabeth quoted her mentor. "By sundown." She repressed an evil smile. "I'll even excuse you from your other tasks today and allow you to have lunch."
Chuck made a small sound of dismay and Elizabeth patted him on the shoulder as she walked by. Her mentor, Negotiator Mal Doran, had been right. It was far more fun to give that assignment than it was to do it. She glided across the ground toward the cool sanctuary of the shadows.
John leaned against the door, obviously just having come from his own workout given the sheen of sweat at his temple. "Kind of harsh," he commented, offering his arm.
Elizabeth hesitated for a second, aware of the audience watching her apprentice slowly demolish his target. She placed a hand on his arm to decline the offer, but stood close by his side. John didn’t quite cover the flash of disappointment, but accepted her close presence. They began walking in the direction of the kitchens. Elizabeth had already eaten, but John still needed breakfast. She could hear his stomach rumbling.
"I did it when I was his age," she said, reflecting on how much she'd hated that boulder by the end of that night. "But there are valuable lessons there." She could also remember the satisfaction when she'd stumbled across the solution and had reduced the last third quickly and efficiently.
"Like?"
"He's trying to use brute force too much. The task goes much faster if he doesn’t try to overpower it. He'll be tired but he won't be completed wretched. He could even be done by lunch if he figures it out."
"Work smarter not harder. Think he'll be done by noon?"
"Doubtful. That particular lesson is for those of us who need it. I do have a question for you, however."
"Yeah?"
"The Sun is very bright."
John chuckled. "You noticed that, huh?" He grinned at her playful smack. "So what's your question?"
"Where do you get your hats?"
John laughed as he escorted her down the hall.
The Great Barrier near Athosian Territory, Western Canada, North America
"Here they come," Jeannie Miller, Empress of Canada, murmured under her breath.
The explosion was sudden and deafening. The stone wall exploded into dust and bits of flying masonry. The barest suggestion of a ragged hole could be seen through the thick dust which began to shimmer unnaturally rather than clear in the breeze. One of the battle mages erupted with a jet of flame, firing blindly into the shimmering air. The fireball sailed into the middle of the hole in the three story high wall and illuminated a grotesque figure.
The Wraith.
The demon-cast illusion fell apart with the intrusion of the mage's fire. The fireball landed on the lower abdomen of the Wraith drone, searing it. The demon reared up, flailing at the fire with its forelimbs, and screeching behind the blank chitin mask. With the concealing illusion gone, the battle mage and two Athosian warriors focused their fire onto the drone, sending crossbow bolts, bullets and fireballs into the creature's humanoid upper torso and spider-like lower abdomen. It bled black ichor as it died.
Cannon fire landed in the middle of the rubble, blasting the Illusion away entirely as the Wraith mage supporting it died. The Wraith covered the wall, clinging to the top and sides like the spiders they resembled. The Wraith flowing through the breach paused for just a fraction as the Illusion shattered around them, like insects startled by sudden sunlight. Then they began to move boldly. The warriors began to engage the faceless drones who dropped down to the ground now that their cover was blown.
Jeannie tightened her hands on the railing of her airship and watched the new breach in the wall she looked through her binoculars past the breach. Now that the air was clear she could what lay behind. What she saw made her blood run cold. More Wraith were pressed against one another, waiting to come in, a seething black mass that shifted under a stronger magical shield that turned the air above them a sickly green.
The bulk of her war mechs were still a half mile away, being carefully piloted by remote control. The few mech present were mostly driven by operators but there were one or two remote controls. Huge mechanical creations with as many designs as there were pilots, ranging from the sleek to the awkward, from the dirty and scuffed to the highly polished and accented with gold and gemstones, they stood in a rough approximation of a line. They waited just beyond the treeline where they had more cover, waiting for the signal from Jeannie's airship which hovered just over the forest canopy. The land immediately around the Barrier had always been kept clear of trees taller than a man. The wild grass between the huge stone wall and the trees waved in the slight breeze.
"Ma'am," one of her generals said nervously.
"There are at least three hundred of them on the other side," Jeannie answered his unspoken question. "Wait on the mechs."
The man sighed and repeated her order.
Jeannie lowered her binoculars and watched the breach with her own eyes for a moment, taking in more of the battle than the binoculars would allow. It was really a pain. She should invent wider lenses to allow for more peripheral vision. Which she could do if she just- No. She had to focus.
The Barrier was thirty feet tall, twelve feet thick at the base and nearly eight at the top. It was reinforced with heavy ironwork and steel and had only been built in the last decade, meant to withstand heavy punishment. Never before had the Wraith attacked the wall with such success.
The Wraith were pouring out of the breach in greater numbers now and the ground forces began to withdraw under their numbers. Jeannie looked through the binoculars again and spotted another mage. The demon had a distinctive red pattern on his chest. By that marking Jeannie noted it was yet another hive, bringing the total up to five different ones in Canada alone. The Union was dealing with a similar crisis and had noted the same phenomenon.
Neither Jeannie nor President O'Neill could think of a reason why the Wraith were attacking now. Wraith were savage creatures who took advantage of weakness and rarely entertained ideas of revenge. The Barrier was strong and well maintained- not a weak target to be preyed upon. Nothing about these attacks made any sense.
"Send in the mechs," Jeannie ordered.
The order was repeated and the retreat was sounded for the non-armored forces. The heavy mechanical suits or remote controlled war-clanks lumbered forward. They sported an impressive array of destructive implements; claws, war hammers, flails, heavy caliber guns, cannons and even flame throwers. They moved forward and crashed against the onslaught of Wraith, literally cutting some down before them with automatic saws and spinning scythes. Someone with a mounted a flame thrower was pouring fire into the breach in the barrier. The Wraith walked over their own dead and continued to cross through the hole in the massive wall. The grass around the area caught fire, black smoke and flickering firelight to the hellish engagement.
"Estimated time until we have reinforcements?" Jeannie asked without taking her eyes off the battle.
She'd used her status as Empress to press the local Mad Scientists to bring their war mechs to the front when they'd received word that the Wraith were close to a breach here. The bulk of her personal army had been hours away, having just finished dealing with another breach further North. That was something else that puzzled her - the locations of the attacks didn't seem to have any sort of pattern.
"Another ten minutes Empress," her general responded after a clear hesitation.
Jeannie set her jaw and forced herself not to think about how she could make her mechs faster. She'd have time left for experimentation later. First she needed to help her people survive this. Ten minutes and her personal mechs would be here to bolster the local forces. They needed to survive just ten minutes.
There was a flash of light and a muffled explosion and one of the remote mechs went down under the press of spider-like bodies. What she assumed was the controlling aircraft backed off out of range. The Wraith mage once again unleashed what looked suspiciously like a lightning bolt. The blue-white streak shot into another one of the suits, instantly frying the circuitry. This one was piloted and didn't have the telltale antennae or unwieldy umbilical cables the previous one had.
Jeannie wasn't the only person who swore as the huge device shut down with a series of small explosions. The top half collapsed to one side like a puppet with the strings cut. Smoke curled up out of the joints and the Wraith fell upon the person inside. Jeannie cringed as their claws cut into the metal and tore it apart. The heavy steel squealed as the drones ripped and pulled. Their claws came back red and Jeannie prayed the man inside had already been killed by the lightning.
The airship she was in had been fast but ill equipped to be much of a force on its own. It wasn't a warship. It had had the speed she'd needed to deliver her army's battle mages to assist the local forces.
"Time!" she called out.
"Five minutes!"
"Damn," she swore.
The battle was not going well and this was the third in the past few days. She'd have to contact the Union and see if things were escalating equally there. The Athosian and regular Army battle mages had collected together and were focusing fire on a second Wraith mage when a Seneschal appeared.
The upper torso of the Seneschal looked nearly human, but his skin was a sickly, mottled green where visible. He wore chitin armor and carried a bone spear. Larger than the drones and more powerful than the mages, the Seneschal could easily cut through their small emergency force. Everyone on the air ship knew this and terrified chatter broke out among the crew, only to be silenced by a few barked orders from superior officers.
The drones and mages pressed their attack when the Seneschal joined them on the field. They too knew of the advantage they now had in both numbers and power The Seneschal's spear lit up with black fire as he raced for the group of human mages and their Athosian warrior guard, his white mane trailing out behind him. He easily knocked aside a mech twice his size and opened his mandible-like jaws, ruining the illusion of humanity.
For a horrified moment Jeannie watched helplessly as death ran down on her countrymen, only the Wraith was suddenly knocked back. More than one person stood in surprise.
Then there was a blinding explosion. Jeannie threw an arm across her eyes to shield them. After the flash there was utter silence then a deep rumble. The airship shuddered and dipped in the aftermath of the explosion hit them with a charged wind. It dropped slightly in the sky, but stabilized after a heart-stopping second.
Jeannie rubbed at her eyes.
"Who ordered a Nova?" one of her generals demanded.
"Who had one?" Jeannie asked, blinking in the brightness.
Explosions of that force and magnitude were expensive and unusual. All of the Nova-class explosive devices the Army had, had already been used against the Wraith. It was of concern that someone apparently had one in their personal stash that they hadn't turned over when they'd been instructed to.
When her vision cleared, Jeannie scanned the breach. Mercifully the charge had been shaped, directing most of the blast at the stone wall. The battle mages and warriors had been knocked back and most were staggering around, dazed but unharmed. Where the messy breach had been there was now a neat oval hole. Bits of masonry crumbled down from the overhanging sides into the voice where the heavy stone had been obliterated.
"Not that I'm entirely displeased but who did that?" Jeannie asked. As she waited for the response, she calculated how much time and how many resources it would take to repair the new, larger hole.
The Wraith were so many charred carapaces. A few injured specimens were limping away in retreat, but most were dead. The corpses at the edge of the blast were the most intact, the arachnoid legs of the lower torso were bent and pulled in death. Beyond the breach, the bulk of the Wraith army was retreating.
"One of the mech operators. We're bringing her up now," her general replied. He looked at the strip of paper from the repeater machine. "She says her name is Laura Cadman. She's claiming she made the Nova herself."
"Reckless, but useful," Jeannie commented. She'd heard the name Cadman before, but not specifically Laura.
"She's not in the registry," her general added, frowning at the tape as he fed it through his fingers, reading the text written on it.
"New to Canada, or young?" Jeannie wondered aloud.
Unlike in the United States or the Confederate States, the Scientists in Canada all had to be registered and conform to the formal Articles of War and Science. Most Scientists in Canada were immigrants and refugees from the Mad Science wars in Europe, driven to flee their former countries because of a desire to be their own masters and conduct experiments they, and not some local prince, wanted. So many egos in a single country had necessitated the creation of a code of proper procedure for conduct. Additionally, it made things like organizing formal rivalries and identifying bodies after experiments gone awry, easier.
"Young, I think," The general said, nodding to the young woman who was currently bring escorted their way.
Laura stopped in front of them and looked from Jeannie to her general and back again.
"I know I'm not supposed to make stuff like that but I wanted to see if I could, and I always make them shaped and the Wraith was," she trailed off and shook herself. "He had to go," she stated resolutely.
"You don't have a mentor," Jeannie stated.
"No," Laura replied. "I just got out of the University a month ago."
Jeannie smiled. This girl had promise, and while she needed brilliant people helping her on the front lines, Laura Cadman was on the reckless side still. She needed some training beyond her formal schooling.
"I think I might be able to help you there." Jeannie smiled brightly. "Tell me, Laura, do you like the sea?"