"The World is My Creation"(1/2) by Kristen999, Wildcat88, and Everybetty- Team Challenge
Title: "The World is My Creation"
Authors:Kristen999 wildcat88 everybetty
Word Count: 16,000
Rating: PG-13/ Gen
Characters: Team
Spoilers: None
Genre: Action/Adv/H/C
Summary: The goal of every mission is to make contact with people, explore and discover new things, and try not to die. On an everchanging world where nothing is what it appears, the staying alive part is the biggest challenge.
M3X-919 wouldn't win any award as a hot vacation destination, nor was it a bustling Mecca of commerce. John scanned the desolate landscape, searching for signs of-- well, anything. There was no soil to speak of, only black sand. There were no signs of civilization, no animal or plant life. No life at all.
John slipped off his aviators to pierce Rodney with a glare; there was no need for them anyway. “I thought you said this was supposed to be ‘just like’ Hawaii?”
Rodney was one with his tablet, his eyes never straying from it. “Did I? Well, maybe I was referring to the volcanoes.”
“Volcanoes?” Ronon glared at his teammate.
“Not active ones. These have been dormant for thousands of years. Maybe longer.”
That meant no beaches or surf. Hell, after gazing up at the sky, there wasn't any sun either. John had been duped into this mission and Rodney knew it, using his 'interesting' readings to avoid eye contact. Teyla's instinctual mood meter was either in full swing or his annoyance was that obvious.
“I wonder if this place gets any daylight at all,” she observed, stepping over to John. “It is very dark here. It would explain why this place is so... empty.”
“Yeah. Reminds me of twilight.” There was something not right in the air and John couldn't put his finger on it. He rested his arms over the end of his P-90. “Care to explain the conditions, McKay?”
Rodney came up from his view screen with the lamest attempt at an innocent expression. “Did I mention that this was more of a moon and not really a planet?”
Ronon gave John a feral grin, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
“I put two and two together when I noticed the big green planet in orbit.” That should have been a dead giveaway for what awaited them, but then he thought the moon might have produced some type of wicked reverse lunar tides.
“Yes, well... that's actually M3X-920 and it blocks out ninety percent of the sun. Thus, the sepulchral mood of this place,” Rodney explained, hands pointing and gesturing diagrams in the air.
“Why are we here?” Ronon asked.
“Like I said during the briefing, there are some very odd energy readings that should be investigated. I mean, the satellite MALP came back with patterns that are--”
“Rodney,” Teyla broke in to halt the lengthy explanation. “I think we want to know the real reason,” she said, arching a single eyebrow.
Funny how a simple facial gesture could instill fear instantly. John was envious.
“You know how Zelenka and I designed that search engine for the Ancient database?”
“You mean when you ripped off Google?” John taunted.
The shadows hid Rodney's reaction, but his livid expression was enunciated in his words. “No! Our engine is a hell of a lot more sophisticated, not to mention we downloaded an entire Ancient language dictionary into its primary---”
“I'm getting hungry, McKay,” Ronon interrupted.
Rodney whirled around. “Then you should have had lunch before--” He stopped mid-sentence. “Fine. My index for the database was remarkably more accurate than Radek's...which he disagreed with. So...”
“So, you each made separate ones and you're using this to test it out,” John finished.
The whole team waited and Rodney cleared his throat. “In a nutshell. Yes.”
“And this was the result,” Ronon snorted. “I think you lost.”
“We haven't even begun looking yet!” Rodney punched the keys on his tablet, turning the glowing screen to show them. “Those bands of yellow lines are ten times larger than normal and all those wavy red ones are not supposed to be well, wavy.”
“If this was a contest--”
“More like a friendly scientific experiment.”
Teyla shook her head. “Very well, if this was an experiment, then what did you use to find this place?”
“Yeah, what were the magic words?” John goaded. “And don't tell me one of them was Hawaii.”
“Did you really think you were going to hang ten out here, Colonel?”
John did his best not to react; at least the darkness was good for something.
“He was gonna give me a few pointers,” Ronon blabbed.
Rodney looked back at the tiny craft. “Oh, for crying out... wait, don't tell me you shoved surf boards into the jumper?”
“What GoogleFu did you use, McKay?” If they were going to explore a creepy planet where it was night all the time, John wanted to know why.
“I tried the usual things. ZedPM's. Hyperdrives. Wraith weakness. City schematics...” Rodney reacted to the set of shadowed, annoyed faces. “It wasn't easy, mind you. Nothing really came up that was useful and some terms were too broad where I'd get Atlantis' version of the dictionary or other useless records. I ended up using a combination of search terms: energy source, powerful, hidden... and something else that I forgot.”
“We came here because you used a random set of words?” John asked with dismay.
“Um, yeah.”
“Doesn’t sound very scientific, McKay,” John growled.
“It worked, didn't it? I mean. This is definitely something.”
John studied the eerie shadows their forms cast against the ground beneath them. The expanse of black sand made for a creepy backdrop. “Fine. We're here. Let's go check things out.”
---------
The light from their P-90s paved a bouncing path across the badlands, their boots sinking softly in the silt. The temperature was pleasant even if the surroundings were a continuous beach without a sea. Deserts were full of dunes that could swallow a man whole…this place was just barren, the sand only a few inches thick with a hard rocky surface underneath.
Remnants of volcanoes were scattered everywhere, lava crusts and cones long since gone dead. John checked the time, noting an hour had passed. “Why did you have me land the jumper if your readings were this far?”
“They keep shifting! Which in itself is indicative of strange and intriguing things,” Rodney replied excitedly.
“Or they're just random,” Ronon gruffed.
“No, I thought of that. The signal's not bouncing and it's actually getting stronger.”
“You think something or someone is controlling it?” Teyla asked, eyes searching the dark.
“Um. Maybe?”
John didn't like McKay's response, his trigger finger getting itchier the more they explored. That ominous feeling from earlier was stronger, including the whole icy fingers running down his spine thing. Call it a Spidey sense or whatever... it was going off like mad. “Maybe we should---”
Rodney froze. “What the hell?”
John halted; Ronon pointed his blaster aimlessly. “What?” the Satedan demanded.
“I do not sense any Wraith, but I'm feeling very... apprehensive. I do not know why,” Teyla spoke.
John felt a tingle, a jumpiness that had intensified tenfold. Teyla closed ranks, the three of them creating a circle, weapons poised while Rodney's fingers clacked on his tablet. “Wait!”
“Rodney!” John warned. He was poised to pull the trigger at anything.
“Colonel!”
John heard Teyla's voice and felt the ground pitch forward. “What's going on, McKay?”
“I don't know! My computer just died!”
“Okay, everyone, let's head back. I'm not interested in getting caught in any volcanic quakes!” John knew there was more to it, swinging the barrel of his rifle towards the rumbling ahead.
“Over there!” Ronon shouted.
Teyla gasped; John's weapon almost slipped from his fingers. “Where did that come from?”
“I have no idea,” Rodney whispered.
“Things don't just appear from thin air,” John growled. Then again this was Pegasus and he didn't need to see Rodney's 'are you an idiot' expression. “Okay, let me rephrase that. Did your Google search say anything about a mysterious city?”
-------
John didn't like surprises and this qualified as one hell of a discovery.
“It's beautiful,” Teyla said in an awe-filled voice.
There was no denying the exquisiteness of the structure in front of them. The structure was sleek, the entire outside constructed of panels... Was that glass? John squinted at the walls, the surfaces smooth and shiny despite very little light.
“It's like an elaborate greenhouse, except all black,” Rodney commented. “Of course this is roughly six stories tall. Kind of reminds me of those Disney World Land of Tomorrow buildings, but much cooler.”
“Looks like a giant box,” Ronon remarked, never lowering his gun.
John felt drawn towards it. “There are no towers, or domes. It’s just a… a monolith.”
“Let's pray that Hal doesn't control it,” Rodney quipped.
“How does something such as this exist here?” Teyla asked.
“Maybe it had a cloak,” John answered. “Makes you wonder why it appeared to us.”
“The energy signature is definitely coming from inside,” Rodney said, bouncing on his toes. “I mean, come on. What about this doesn't say explore me? It's a giant invitation.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” John said, but the tiny city whispered to him. Coaxed him. All the hair on his arms stood on end, his stomach quivered, his feet moved forward before his brain registered the movement.
His team followed, all four of them on alert. “Not sure where the door is,” John commented, guiding the way with his weapon.
“Keep heading straight,” Rodney instructed.
John's skin felt charged, like they were walking through a cloud of static electricity. His ears popped, as if there was a change in air pressure. Rodney swallowed several times, obviously feeling the same thing. They came upon a large panel of glass; the team's reflection stared back at them.
“Maybe we should recite some magic incantation,” Rodney suggested sarcastically, searching for any sign of a control panel.
John held his hand up, ready to slide it down the polished surface, but he hesitated. Bad things happened when he touched unknown objects. This time, his caution wasn't enough. The tips of his fingers grew warm, being inches away enough to start a reaction.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” John said, snatching them back.
Rodney didn't seem convinced. But it was too late. The wall shimmered into a million dots of light- then it disappeared.
“Finally,” a voice boomed from inside.
John had enough time to share an oh, crap expression before the glass walls around them glistened, and the blackness stole his vision.
-----
The coarse sand of the planet scraped at his skin, jolting John awake.
“Hey.”
Ronon offered him a hand up, the others coming to around him. “What?”
“Not sure what happened. We're in some courtyard, I think,” Ronon said, guiding him to wobbly feet.
Teyla helped a swaying Rodney up. John scrubbed a hand over his face, noticing his empty holster, the snipped tether of his P-90.
“We've been stripped of weapons, even my knives.”
It took a second to clear the fog from John's head, the obsidian glass of the city's walls surrounding them in the distance. They were in a huge void of space, black sand under their feet, stars twinkling through the twilight above them in the sky. “Seems kind fancy for a fort,” John said. Because there really wasn't anything around except walls. Where were the rooms? Or the ceilings they saw from the outside?
“Colonel.” Teyla reached for a weapon that was no longer strapped to her thigh.
Ronon acted like he didn't require one, posture coiled and ready to strike. Rodney seemed antsier than normal without a computer to focus his attention. John took the lead, stepping forward to meet with the emerging figure.
“You return, yet it will not open. It opened, yes, but now it is shut. Why have you shut it? Why come inside and not allow the outside to break through?”
John wasn't prepared for the unintelligible rant, sneaking a look of bewilderment with his team before tensing for an altercation. “I don't understand.”
The alien came into full view. It was slender and tall. Very tall. Towered over Ronon, its slight body skittering in agitation, its head bobbing about on a wiry neck. The odd being's sole article of clothing was a simple white robe, like a monk’s; even its feet were bare. There was no hint to its gender, if it had one, but the voice had a male human’s timbre. “You!” It pointed a blue-skinned hand at the Satedan, shaking its only three fingers. “You! No, no, not you!”
The alien's eyes were yellow, its pupils dilating and expanding rapidly. John held out his hand, trying to gain the skittish being's attention. “Hey. I'm not sure what's going on here but--”
“Silence! No talking! No, no talking, don't know what to do with the talking,” it babbled. But as soon as the words left the alien's mouth, it surged forward, eliciting a growl of warning from Ronon.
John stood still, body tense, but waited. The tension was high and he knew if the creature attacked him, his team would come to his aid. The alien's entire body thrummed with nervousness, but when it got closer, it stilled. “You,” it whispered. “You broke the lock. YOU made the lock!”
Before John could utter a word, the creature's head whipped over at Rodney. “And you helped. Didn't you? I can tell. Together you bound me here and now you've returned. You try to hide, but this one,” the alien pointed at John. “This one cannot deny who he is.”
“We are explorers and we mean you no harm,” Teyla interceded. “What is your name?”
“Name?” The alien's hands flapped. “I am Othrol.”
“Othrol, I am Teyla and these are my friends, John, Rodney and Ronon.” She smiled, calm and serene.
“Friends?” Othrol’s eyes sparkled, neck standing tall, showcasing for the first time how big the creature was despite its thin frame. “Friends,” it breathed. Then the yellow of its eyes grew dark. “Yesssss. Yes, yes. You came to be friends.”
John stepped closer towards Teyla. “I'm sure earlier, when you knocked us all out, was just a misunderstanding.”
“No, no misunderstanding. You want to be friends. It has been so long since anyone has come here.” Othrol rubbed at its temple, the bluish skin around its hairless head wrinkling. “Do not have enough energy to play with all of you.”
“Play?” Rodney laughed.
John shot him a look, but it was too late.
“You came to play. Has been so long since I was allowed to play. Was brought here for playing too much. Left here to play alone, by self, but now...” Othrol's voice went from high-pitched to a low rumble. “I can have fun again.”
John didn't like the manic, gleeful look of their new pal. He glanced at Ronon, silently communicating to wait for his cue. Teyla caught his signal, her eyes letting him know she was ready for anything. Rodney had a jittery expression, but he gulped, nodding.
“Look, we don't mean to burst your bubble, but we need to talk to our people. Let them know we're okay. So, if you could show us the way out, we can come back.” John gave the alien a charming smile.
“Way out? There is no out. Only in. They locked me in and left. They were afraid of me… of what I can do. People like you, who glow bright,” Othrol pointed at John.
“Othrol, we want to stay, but must leave here for just a little while. Trying to frighten us will not make it easy for us to be friends,” Teyla reasoned.
The alien held up its hands. “You can all leave, but one will stay. If you are not the ones who imprisoned me, then you cannot set me free. But I will not remain alone any longer.”
John didn't know what bothered him the most, the obvious change in personality or the threat. They had no idea what this alien was capable of, but it was four against one if need be. “Listen, buddy...”
“Silence! I will choose one of you to remain. To be my companion forever. But do not think I will settle for anyone. I will choose only the worthy.” Othrol was no longer jumping around like it was hopped up on too much caffeine. Nervousness became a sinister confidence. “I will no longer be alone,” it breathed. “I have four new minds to explore. Four new realms to play in.”
---------
“We will not stay with you,” Teyla informed him. “We have come to you in peace, but we will defend ourselves if necessary.”
“Defend?” Othrol’s gaze lost focus. “Yes. Defend,” it rumbled.
“Just show us the exit and we’ll be on our way,” John said.
Othrol’s eyes suddenly sharpened. “Exit?” it squeaked. “Oh, no. You must stay.” A hand fluttered, and a smile blossomed. “New friends! Come.” It walked through their midst and opened a door behind them. “Come, come, come,” it beckoned, “Hungry you must be.”
“Was that door there before?” John whispered.
“I do not believe so,” Teyla murmured in reply.
Rodney sniffed the air appreciatively. “Is that coffee?”
Othrol peered back at them. “Come!”
“What do you think?” Ronon asked.
John frowned. “Something’s off, but we don’t seem to have a lot of options at the moment. Let’s make nice for now, but keep your eyes open.”
They followed Othrol through the doorway into an oval room of gleaming white marble. Four pillars arched from the floor, connecting at the ceiling in a flurry of scallops. An iridescent table sprouted in the center, laden with fruits, breads, and cheeses.
The door banged shut behind them as Othrol waved delightedly, setting another tray on the table. “Please, sit. Eat.”
When Othrol scurried into a side room, Rodney yanked the door back open. “Oh, this is not good.”
The courtyard, the sand, the glass - all were completely gone. In their place was a cavernous room with dark wood paneling and numerous works of art - paintings, sculptures, ceramics, bronzes and more from hundreds of cultures.
“No!” Othrol shouted. It pasted a smile on and implored, “Please. Explore later. Come and eat. Talk. Tell me of your world.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” John said.
It blinked innocently. “Not want to talk? It has been so long. The talking is needed. Need it in order to play. To have fun. Please.”
At John’s nod, they took their places around the table. Teyla sniffed at the beverage while Ronon tasted the food, snatching a purple fruit from Rodney and handing him a green one. Othrol sat between Teyla and John, its head bobbing happily.
“Aren’t you having any?” John asked.
“Of course.” Othrol selected a pale crimson fruit, peeling it with great care as it turned to Teyla. “What world are you from?”
“I am Athosian.”
“Athosian,” Othrol repeated, enunciating each syllable in a precise low tone. “Athosian. I know not of your people. Tell me of them.”
Othrol’s attention was riveted on her as she spoke about her people and their ways. Its eyes were mesmerizing, the yellow deepening to gold, the pupils constricting to pinpoints. She was falling, soaring, spiraling…
I see you.
“Teyla?”
She flinched at Ronon’s voice in her ear, pain spiking through her head. Teyla blinked in bewilderment. “What happened?”
“You kind of zoned out,” Rodney said, his eyes wide in concern.
Teyla turned to Othrol. “My apologies. I do not know…”
A hint of cruelty flashed in its eyes but disappeared so quickly she must have imagined it. “Do not concern yourself.” Othrol stood and inclined its head. “A small matter requires attention.” Its robe swished across the marbled floor as it disappeared into the museum.
Once they were alone, Rodney sat back and folded his arms. “Blue Boy is not quite all there.”
“Rodney!” Teyla scolded. “You know nothing of Othrol or its - his - people.”
Ronon snorted and reached for another slice of bread. “McKay’s right. He’s weird.”
“And he is our host,” she reminded them. “Although I will admit I am concerned about his behavior.”
“Like I said, not all there.”
“We need to find a way out of here,” John said. “Suggestions?”
“I could force it out of him,” Ronon offered.
Teyla arched a brow. “What if there are more of his people here?”
“You think he was lying when he said he was alone?” John asked.
“I think nothing has been what it appears so far.” Teyla sighed, massaging a temple as the vice around her head tightened. “I do not think we can trust anything he says.”
Rodney leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I haven’t seen any sign of technology so far. Nothing.”
John nodded. “I noticed that. How’d he make that art museum appear?”
“How has he made anything appear? I’d expect to see hologram tech, some kind of remote control. Hell, a console would be nice.”
Ronon’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” Rodney asked.
“Shut up and listen.”
Teyla concentrated. A faint wail reached her ears.
John was on his feet in an instant. “What is that?”
Ronon stalked to the door that led to the museum and cracked it open. The cry sounded again, feeble and desolate. “This way.”
“Where are you going?” Rodney hissed.
Teyla joined Ronon at the door. “It sounds like something is in pain.”
“Othrol?” John asked.
Ronon shrugged. “That’d be my guess.”
“We must help,” Teyla stated.
Rodney crossed his arms. “Has it occurred to you that whatever hurt him could hurt us? You don’t even have a knife.”
“Man’s got a point,” John said. “Find something to fight with.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, that’s not what I-” Rodney heaved a sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Teyla scoured the dining room but found nothing of use. Rodney was hefting each tray on the table while Ronon and John checked the side room. Teyla peeked into the museum, scanning the artifacts, turning back when John and Ronon emerged from the side room whispering harshly. At her arched brow, they quieted.
“Sheppard took the only knife,” Ronon muttered.
At times she wondered how she ended up on a team of children. “Perhaps you would like this better?” she said pointedly, gesturing at the far museum wall.
His eyes lit up as he spotted the weaponry. Grinning wolfishly, he stepped silently into the room and relieved the wall of a short sword and a shield. Teyla sorted through a group of musical instruments until she found a pair of drum sticks.
“Hey, what if Blue Boy gets pissed because you touched his stuff?”
“This was your idea, McKay,” John said.
“Searching through the funhouse armed with artwork and kitchen utensils was not my idea. We can always-”
The plaintive wail sounded again. Something about it struck a chord in Teyla, something familiar, just out of reach. She strode toward the sound, gripping the sticks tightly.
“Wait!” Rodney shouted. “I don’t have-” He cast about, searching, grabbing a large bronze basin, putting it back before snatching up a smaller one. “Okay. I’m ready.”
They crept through the maze of pedestals and display cases until they reached the far corner. At Ronon’s nod, Teyla jerked the door open. Ronon slipped through, followed closely by John who waved her and Rodney in. They were in a crumbling ruin of a room filled with consoles covered in dust and debris.
“Oh!” Rodney exclaimed. “Now we’re talking.”
Ronon’s brows shot up. “Seriously?”
Rodney rubbed his hands together and headed for the console in the center of the room. “Watch and learn, my friend.” He crawled underneath it and started pulling out crystals.
“Is this stuff Ancient?” John asked.
“Yeah,” Rodney answered. “Not as sophisticated as Atlantis but close.”
Teyla patrolled the perimeter of the room, searching for anything of use. Shattered jars and vials from overturned worktables littered the floor, crunching under her shoes. Several cabinets were on their sides. The walls were warped, scorched, as if they had suffered battle damage.
“So is this an Ancestor city after all?” Ronon ducked under a dangling ceiling tile as he checked the far side of the room.
“I’ll let you know,” Rodney answered. “Sheppard, did you find any unbroken crystals?”
“Not yet.” John dug through a pile of debris near the door. “Does the color matter?”
“Not right now.”
Something moved at the edge of Teyla’s peripheral vision. She caught a flash of blue and white that vanished around a corner. A mournful cry rose in that direction, faint and weak. Stepping gingerly through the rubble, she hurried toward it.
“Othrol?” she called.
She rounded the corner cautiously. A part of the wall lay in the middle of the floor, and the lights flickered, but the anteroom was empty. Not even a door. She turned to go but stopped as a cloud of dust rose from the crumbled wall.
Something flew at her with a shriek. Its barbed tail lashed, scratching her cheek, barely missing her eye. Throwing her hands over her face, she stumbled backward and fell then rolled to her feet, gripping the sticks tightly, ready for the next attack.
“Teyla?”
She wheeled around, prepared to defend herself. “John?”
He stepped into the hallway, knife in hand. “What’s wrong?”
Teyla scanned the hallway, the ceiling, the floor. “Nothing. I- I-”
“Hey, you’re bleeding. What happened?”
She dabbed at the warm trickle on her cheek. “I am uncertain. I thought I saw Othrol, but there’s nothing here. Then this… creature flew…”
John tugged her into the main room and pulled an antiseptic wipe from his vest. “What creature?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No.” He gently cleansed the scratch. “What did it look like?”
“I really didn’t-” She felt the blush creep up her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
Ronon crouched beside her. “What is it?”
“I am sure I am mistaken.”
“About what?” Rodney poked his head out from under the console. “Are you okay?”
“I am fine. I don’t…”
“Teyla, just tell us what you saw,” John said.
“There is a legend among my people, the legend of the Hashal.” She looked to Ronon. “Do you know of it?”
“Never heard of them.”
“The Hashal were winged creatures of great strength and beauty tasked with the guardianship of the Old City.”
Ronon frowned. “What old city?”
“On Athos. It was destroyed thousands of years ago.”
“Guess they weren’t very good guardians.”
Teyla gave a slight smile. “They were cast out of the city long before it fell. They had grown proud, arrogant. They attempted to wrest control of the city from our people. They failed, of course. As punishment, their beauty was taken, and they were banished from the city, forced to live in the wild, to forage for food, to fend for themselves. After the Wraith destroyed the city, the Hashal returned to claim it as their own. They are said to remain there to this day, infesting the rubble, defending it from invaders.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Riiiiiight.”
“It is a legend, Rodney. My father told the story to keep us away from the ruins.”
John shuddered. “The last time you said something like that I wound up with a big-ass bug stuck to my neck.”
“And these Hashal look like whatever attacked you?” Ronon asked.
“I have never seen one,” Teyla admitted. “But I used to imagine them as a child. Black fur with red eyes, wings, a long barbed tail.”
John’s brow quirked. “Bats?”
“If you mean the flying creatures in Batman, no. This creature looks more like a bird of prey except for the tail and the teeth.”
“Teeth?” Rodney’s eyes drifted toward the high ceiling. “Sharp teeth?”
The keening wail began again, echoing all around them.
John stood, his eyes raking the room. “That sounds like more than one.”
“Close, too,” Ronon added, turning to stand back-to-back with John.
“McKay, have you got that fixed yet?”
“Are you kidding? All I have is broken shards of a thousand different crystals, and I haven’t located the power source.”
“We should leave,” Teyla announced. “Now.”
“And go where?” Rodney asked. “This is the first hint of technology I’ve seen. I need more time. If I’m going to get us out of here-”
The walls shook, and dust rained from the ceiling. The wail became a shriek.
“Okay, never mind.” Rodney hopped to his feet and grabbed his basin. “Let’s go.”
They had almost reached the door when the assault began. Black creatures converged from everywhere, shrieking, clawing, lashing. Teyla sliced at them with her sticks, feeling the burn of the barb along her arms. She spun, the sticks a blur as she knocked one creature down only to have two more take its place. Ronon fought behind her, stabbing and blocking. Creatures bounced off his shield with a dull thud, and dark blood sprayed each time his sword arced. The shrieking and beating of wings was unbearable, drowning out all thought.
A scream of pain rose above the din. Teyla whirled in panic. Four of the creatures had John pinned to the floor between the wall and a console. His knife was buried in one, but still its tail swished, gouging his BDUs. The others hovered over him; two were pecking and tearing at the arms he had flung over his head, and the other clawed at his chest. John kicked and flailed, but he didn’t have enough room to get away. Rodney had scrambled onto the console and was pounding at them with his basin, ignoring the tails lashing him, scoring his face and chest.
Teyla slashed at the ones surrounding Rodney. One fell then another but they kept coming. “Ronon! We must get out of here!”
Ronon roared in response as he carved a vicious path to the door. Teyla impaled a creature with one stick, but the other was batted away in a flurry of wings. Sweat and blood mixed on Rodney’s face as he beat at the creatures attacking John. Teyla grabbed John’s legs and heaved. John slid from the rubble and rolled on his side. She kicked at the creatures on him until they flopped away then she and Rodney pulled him to his feet and headed for the door. Rodney threw his basin at a creature as it ripped at Ronon’s arm. The creature fell but took Ronon’s sword with it. Rodney slammed his shoulder into the door, and he and John collapsed through it. Teyla stumbled through behind them but turned back when Ronon’s shield clanged to the floor as the creatures descended on him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged, hitting the ground hard as Ronon’s full weight landed on top of her. Rolling, she staggered to her feet and wheeled to slam the door.
And gasped.
All she could see was black glass, shifting sands, and starlight. They were back where they’d started.
---------
Ronon was a flurry of hand and sword, metal hitting bone and fur-covered flesh. He ignored the blood splatter on his face, his burning and stinging skin. It was all about reaching the door and once he got there-it became a blur of animal teeth and claws. He felt the arms around his waist, the whooshing of air as he was pulled to the ground. Teyla shifted out from under his weight then she gasped.
That's all it took.
He lurched back to his feet, balling his fists, searching for a target.
His breaths came fast and furious, the adrenaline rush settling to a dull roar. He whirled around at Teyla's astonished expression, taking in the return of the black desert, allowing quivering muscles to sag.
“Oh, God, I'm bleeding!”
Ronon scanned his surroundings, checking for movement before turning to the team.
“Hold still, McKay!” John snapped. The colonel pulled out a field bandage, his attention divided between first aid and assessing the situation.
Their eyes met and Ronon nodded, giving his CO a rundown of things in the gesture. No sign of the creatures. They were safe for the moment.
“Ronon, you're injured,” Teyla said, standing next to him.
“I'm fine. But I dropped the sword inside,” Ronon growled, more upset at loss of the weapon.
“Those things almost pecked my eyes out!” Rodney's face was bloodied, rivulets dripped from a pattern of gashes across his left cheek. He sat on the ground, the upper half of his shirt torn by a rake of claws.
John pulled aside the ripped fabric then his eyes filled with relief. “None of them are too deep,” he reported.
“Are you kidding me? I'm going to need so many stitches, Keller's going to make me into a quilt,” Rodney complained, dabbing at the cut above his eyebrow with a bandage.
Ronon looked down at the bite marks on his arms and pulled out a dressing to wrap up the worst of the gashes in left bicep. “Where did those things come from?”
“I don't know, but I don't think it was a coincidence that the missing member of the Blue Man Group ducked out before they attacked,” John answered as he checked on McKay's injuries one last time.
Teyla moved over to John as he sat down heavily next to the scientist. “You're bleeding.”
Ronon kept an eye on the walls; every inch had been polished into a dark eerie shine. Glass reflected more planes of glass, warping the size and dimensions of the outside. Nothing made sense. Elaborate, artsy foundations that could shatter outside, a museum and rich marble inside.
Teyla wrapped a roll of white gauze around John's thigh. “I still have no idea why the Hashal would be here.”
The colonel hissed when she finished applying the pressure-dressing and he gently moved hands away that were intent on inspecting the blood seeping through his t-shirt. “I've got it. Thank you,” he said, peering down at his chest. He tried tending to the numerous cuts there, and, like the ones that marred his arms, there were just too many to do anything about.
Ronon sympathized; he'd wear his long-sleeved coat next time, arid climate be damned.
“So, those Hashal things. You’ve never seen one before now?” John asked.
“No, as I said they were stories I heard as a child. I now know firsthand that their viciousness is very real. But it still does not explain anything,” she pondered.
“Does it matter? Shouldn't we try finding our way out of here?” Rodney blurted, wincing as talking pulled at the scratches on his face. “Ow.”
“Okay. Somehow we ended up outside again. Maybe we can trace our way back,” John said, getting to his feet, hands patting down his uniform out of habit for his gun.
Ronon felt just as antsy; they were all unarmed in hostile territory. His teammates took a second to collect themselves and waited on him to pick a direction. Thin layers of sand shifted with the constant breeze, wiping away any earlier footprints. The black glass refracted blurry images of his team, and he searched for recognizable shapes or patterns from earlier.
There, a scuffmark along the eastern wall, the top of the glass slightly uneven with the rest. That was the direction they came from. “This way,” he said.
Ronon took point, walking close using the black confines of the city as cover. He kept his hand out to trace the smooth surfaces to make sure another door wasn't hidden within the crystal blackness. He cast looks behind him, to check on his team, eyes lingering on Teyla's troubled face.
“You still bothered by those flying things?” he asked.
“It is just... to see legends such as those... after all these years. It is... unsettling,” Teyla admitted.
Ronon didn't comment, thoughts drifting back to a time when stories had meaning. Life was too hard and too unpredictable for such things. He learned that at a young age, preparing for military training as soon as he was tall enough to fit the requirements despite his mother's protests. He allowed a small smile; a sense of warmth and pride filled his being.
“You alright, big guy?”
“Hmmm?”
“You seemed to drift off there,” John said with concern.
Ronon found himself rubbing at his temples to rid a growing ache. He shook his head, eyes attentive to the path. “I'm fine.” But he betrayed his discomfort, slowing down, body tensing.
All four reflections of his team stared back at him, their battered bodies and expressions distorted by the black finish. A flash of blue skin and tiny twin yellow orbs in the mirrored surface caused him to spin around, eyes searching his friend's backs.
“What is it?” Teyla asked, readied for anything.
“Nothing. Thought I saw something,” Ronon replied, scanning the empty space behind them.
The wind began to swirl, stirring up the sand, causing them to shield their faces.
“All we need is to be caught in the middle of a sand storm!” Rodney hollered.
Ronon held a hand to his face; the air filled with millions of tiny black specs. He opened his mouth to suggest they make a run for it, only for the wind to die suddenly. He blinked away the grit from his eyes, coughing at the irritants in his lungs.
Then he stood there, slack-jawed.
“Oh, God. What now?” Rodney said between hacks.
They were underground, in a dark cavern lit by torches scattered along the wall. Sweat beaded across Ronon's forehead as heat radiated from somewhere deeper inside. “I don't know, but I don't like it.”
“Agreed,” John said, moving stiffly towards one of the torches and grabbing it.
Ronon went to the opposite wall and yanked down his own; Teyla followed suit.
“Wait! I don't have one!” Rodney hissed, inching closer to John.
The air reeked of sulfur and the scorched ground was littered with bones and ash. They all stood shoulder to shoulder, breathing rapidly at the sounds of approaching footsteps. Ronon moved forward to confront whatever was closing in --and froze.
It couldn't be.
A large man appeared, with several inches on Ronon and even more muscle. His head was crowned with waist-length matted dreadlocks and he wore black leather pants and a metal vest of well-dinged armor. The tops of his shoulder were adored with spikes and when he marched towards them, his dark eyes reflected no fear.
“You are the guardians to the pits of Gabennas?” the warrior mocked.
“You... you can't be...” Ronon stared, his mouth not connecting to his startled brain.
“You know this person, buddy?” John asked.
“I am Makamon and I will cast you back to the fires of Gabennas!”
“Fires? We're not guarding anything! Go or take whatever you want!” Rodney stuttered.
Makamon drew a short sword from the sheath at his belt, the metal glinting back the light of the flames.
Ronon drew up his torch, pushing back the fear of going up against this man with only a wooden rod tipped with a burning rag.
Teyla stood beside him. “We mean you no harm. We're just traveling and do not wish any conflict.”
Makamon snorted. “Lies and tricks. Prepare to go back to your master!”
Ronon waited, anticipating the lunge immediately before it happened. The sharp blade split the torch in half, Ronon ducking to keep his head from experiencing the same. Makamon swung around to meet Teyla's attack from the other side, the force of his downward swing enough to send her sprawling to the ground.
Ronon growled deep in his throat, using the broken part of the torch to crack down on the warrior's skull. Makamon easily dodged out of the way but wasn't prepared for the handful of ash John threw in his face.
Blinded, the giant lashed out at John. The colonel jumped back, avoiding the tip of the sword as it slashed past his midsection. Ronon took advantage of the opening, smashing the torch handle into the large man's face while grappling for the sword awkwardly with his other hand.
Makamon slammed an elbow into Ronon's sternum and used the hilt of his weapon to land a blow on his temple. Ronon staggered, stunned.
Teyla and John attacked at once. Makamon sidestepped and twisted away in two graceful moves, their torches landing harmlessly on his armor-protected chest and shoulders and missing his head. The big man countered, backhanding Teyla in the face hard enough to send her flying. Her body smacked the wall and crumpled in a heap. Then the giant rolled his sword around to meet John's wooden rod with a crack!
“Oh, crap.”
Blood dripped in Ronon's eyes, his vision swimming. John's torch was in splintered pieces and the pilot was grappling with the warrior. Ronon watched dumbly as John attempted an ill-advised tackling move.
The colonel shoved his shoulder into Makamon's belly with all his might-which wasn't enough. John stood up in time for the warrior to brutally jab him in the larynx with the handle of his blade.
John dropped to his knees, gasping, hands wrapped protectively around his throat. Makamon stood above him, his sword held aloft with both hands, readying the killing blow.
Out of nowhere Rodney screamed, launching himself in a clumsy and wild manner.
It was the worst battle cry ever. But Ronon used it. He smashed both fists against his foe's ears. Makamon dropped his weapon, grunting. Ronon sought out the weak spots on his enemy's body. The nose, backs of knees, groin. He pummeled with balled fist after balled fist. Kick after kick.
Rodney used Teyla's discarded torch to burn the warrior's hands any time he brought them up to strike.
Makamon roared, knocking the torch out of Rodney's hands and smacking him in the face in crazed desperation. “You will not prevent my quest!” He flung himself at Ronon, the two of them rolling on the ground in a frenzy. “I will bring my army back from Gabennas! Sateda will rise again!”
This was not real. Ronon landed on his back, two meaty hands around his throat. Stars danced before him; his lungs screamed for air. His face flushed red from lack of oxygen as the fingers throttled him.
“Tell your master that the gods are on my side!” Makamon declared, sweat dripping down his face onto Ronon's.
The heat boiled all around him and blackness closed in around his vision. Then Makamon's body shuddered, his fingers loosened, red flecks spat from his mouth.
Ronon sputtered, sucking in air, the cave spinning madly around him. He couldn't move, but the great warrior staggered and fell to show his sword sticking out of the middle of his back.
John dropped to one knee, wheezing. “Got... you.”
Makamon would not die so easily, gurgling on his own blood, flailing about in desperation.
Rodney was back on his feet, staring wide-eyed at the towering man. Makamon made one final surge and Rodney jumped out of the way, sticking out his leg to trip him. The giant felt face first, still crawling on his hands and knees. Still fighting.
Teyla emerged from the shadows and took hold of the sword, pressing it deeper into the man's flesh. The great Makamon's body stilled, and Ronon felt sorrow mixed with pride and relief at the death.
“Wanna tell us... who that was?” John managed between painful swallows.
“It was...” Yet Ronon couldn't complete the thought. Despite the dead body in front of him, it couldn't be real. Then again, he'd seen crazier things. “Makamon was a great hero on Sateda. One of our greatest warriors.”
“Hero?” Rodney snorted. “Didn't seem very hero-like to me.”
“Do not mock Ronon's history,” Teyla admonished. She looked over to him. “Was he one of your leaders?”
Ronon laughed. This was crazy. “No, he wasn't. He was one of our greatest figures. A character.”
“Like in a book?” John asked.
“No. In plays.”
“You guys had theater?”
Ronon only glared at the scientist.
“What? I didn't know? Jeesh.”
“There were stories growing up. Makamon the Great. Chosen by the gods to be a great champion. Tested over and over again. Able to track his enemies from one continent to the other. Forced into combat against hundreds of Guftkuas.”
“Like Hercules,” John said.
“He wasn't a cartoon,” Ronon growled.
“No, no. I mean, yeah, that was a Disney movie, but we had someone similar on Earth,” the colonel defended.
It wasn't the same. Makamon was blinded by the gods once, forced to find his sword out of thousands by touch alone. And once he found it, sent to battle an entire army by himself. His son was turned into an insect and he could only see him in human form once a year, always fearful he would kill him by accident any other time.
“I'd go to the city theater every full cycle. I saw the tale of Semperas over and over again. One day the entire Satedan army was turned into a forest by a magician, forced to watch helpless as our planet was ravaged by the hordes from the eastern side. Makamon went to Gabennas - you’d call it the underworld - and brought back all our greatest fallen warriors and raised an army to defeat those who would destroy Sateda.” Ronon shook his head, the movement sending blinding pain through his skull. “They were plays. It wasn't real.”
John coughed, rubbed at his throat before talking. “And your flying beasts. They were mythical?” he asked Teyla.
“They were. But they were not revered. The tales of the Hashal were used to frighten children. Teach them lessons about vanity and selfishness.” She rubbed at the back of her head, eyes closed. “I never saw a picture of them.”
“Oh, God. How many times do we have to deal with aliens and mind altering devices,” Rodney sighed. He began pacing the room. “Maybe that's what the energy sources are, but we haven't touched anything. Perhaps there's something in the air and we're all hallucinating. Or something's emitting a frequency, like the time we encountered that Wraith tech and Sheppard shot everyone.”
“Hey!”
“What about that crystal that affected all our dreams?” Ronon asked. “Could that weird guy be like one of those things?”
“I don't think so. It used Sheppard as a host to start off with.” Rodney snapped his fingers. “I'm sensing a pattern.”
The colonel didn't look amused.
“But those were dreams,” Teyla pointed out.
Ronon took the time to really check out the cave. It felt so real. The blistering heat, the decayed remains of the dead at their feet, the open mouth at the end of the cavern. It was like they were really at the entrance of Gabennas.
“Let's get outta here. We'll try to figure out what the hell is going on while we try to find a way out,” John suggested. He cleared his throat, wincing, eyes scanning the darkness. “Um...”
Ronon's head felt two sizes too small. It hurt to think but he’d led them here. He'd lead them out. “This way.”
They followed him through the winding passages, all their torches useless and broken. The further they walked, the darker it got.
“Maybe this isn't such a good idea, guys,” Rodney squeaked.
With those words, complete darkness engulfed them, their boots crunching bones and rock. He’d been certain this was the right way. Just as his eyes adjusted to the blackness, they came upon light and sand.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rodney exclaimed.
Ronon almost hit him for aggravating his headache with that whiny tone but gave up the thought as he set his sights on the weird alien standing before them.
“Wait,” John hissed.
Ronon didn't want to wait; he wanted to grab the blue guy around his scrawny neck. But he stopped, following his friend's lead.
The slender alien bobbed its head excitedly, its three fingers curling and uncurling. “Friends, friends. You return.”
“Yeah, despite a few roadblocks along the way. You happen to know anything about those? Little nasty flying bats. A big guy with a sword and bad attitude?” John asked, stepping boldly forward.
Othrol went from flighty to hostile. He pointed at the colonel. “You, you, you! And you!” he hissed as he turned to thrust a digit at Rodney. “Locked me up! And flew away!”
“We did what?” Rodney snapped. “What are you talking about?'
The alien fluttered its hands, neck twisting and bending around like a snake’s. “You punished me! Locked the door then came back! Opened the door then closed it. Locked inside with me now.”
“What punishment?” John asked, his face scrunched up and uneasy.
“Tired of my head. Head is empty. Used up. Wanted more, needed more.” Othrol fluttered about. “Had to find more. Find and use and fill head again. But told wrong. Wrong to use more, use others.”
“This is making my headache worse,” Rodney complained, rubbing at his temple and hissing as he touched a sensitive spot.
“Is this,” John waved at the glass structure, “a prison?”
The blue man looked at all the glass, yellow eyes gleaming. “This? Yes. No, no, no!” He began slamming his palms against his head. “This is!” Othrol wailed and screamed. Punched his tiny skull. “Is empty! No more new! Nothing inside to use. All alone with just Othrol!”
Ronon wanted to hit the guy too, to keep him from going on. Teyla looked on in sympathy. Rodney and John only seemed confused.
Then the being stilled, taking a more predatory stance. Posture rigid, eyes flat. Ronon waited, expecting anything.
“I am not alone now. Have new things, new images. Will keep on exploring. Taking and playing. Will pick one of you who is best, whose head is filled with more. Cannot keep you all.”
“No one is staying here,” John growled and coughing again.
Othrol deflated, fingers pressing into his temples. “Pleeease. Please stay. Been alone for so long,” he sniffed.
Was he going to cry now? Ronon couldn't keep up with all of this. The alien was out of his mind.
Teyla raised her hands in a non-threatening way. “If you let us out, we will try to help you.”
Othrol's body relaxed, head swirling around. “Help? You'll help me?”
Finally. Words that made sense. Ronon watched Teyla try to reason with him. “Of course. We're explorers. We like to meet new people and share knowledge and offer assistance.” She took a tentative step closer, as if approaching a wounded animal.
“Oh, friends. This is great news. One of you will make a great companion. Your minds are so wondrous and exciting. So full of new danger and fun. Enough to last a long time. I wish to have you all, but only the most thrilling one can remain!” Six fingers tapped against each other in enthusiasm. “Which one? Which one?”
Rodney got that 'we're so screwed' expression. “Oh, no. You can get inside our heads, can't you?”
Othrol grinned, the crazy, scary part taking over again. “Time to play.”
Ronon wasn't going to wait to see what that meant. He went after the alien, intending only to capture him, but Othrol disappeared, vanished from sight.
Part Two
Authors:Kristen999 wildcat88 everybetty
Word Count: 16,000
Rating: PG-13/ Gen
Characters: Team
Spoilers: None
Genre: Action/Adv/H/C
Summary: The goal of every mission is to make contact with people, explore and discover new things, and try not to die. On an everchanging world where nothing is what it appears, the staying alive part is the biggest challenge.
M3X-919 wouldn't win any award as a hot vacation destination, nor was it a bustling Mecca of commerce. John scanned the desolate landscape, searching for signs of-- well, anything. There was no soil to speak of, only black sand. There were no signs of civilization, no animal or plant life. No life at all.
John slipped off his aviators to pierce Rodney with a glare; there was no need for them anyway. “I thought you said this was supposed to be ‘just like’ Hawaii?”
Rodney was one with his tablet, his eyes never straying from it. “Did I? Well, maybe I was referring to the volcanoes.”
“Volcanoes?” Ronon glared at his teammate.
“Not active ones. These have been dormant for thousands of years. Maybe longer.”
That meant no beaches or surf. Hell, after gazing up at the sky, there wasn't any sun either. John had been duped into this mission and Rodney knew it, using his 'interesting' readings to avoid eye contact. Teyla's instinctual mood meter was either in full swing or his annoyance was that obvious.
“I wonder if this place gets any daylight at all,” she observed, stepping over to John. “It is very dark here. It would explain why this place is so... empty.”
“Yeah. Reminds me of twilight.” There was something not right in the air and John couldn't put his finger on it. He rested his arms over the end of his P-90. “Care to explain the conditions, McKay?”
Rodney came up from his view screen with the lamest attempt at an innocent expression. “Did I mention that this was more of a moon and not really a planet?”
Ronon gave John a feral grin, waiting for the inevitable explosion.
“I put two and two together when I noticed the big green planet in orbit.” That should have been a dead giveaway for what awaited them, but then he thought the moon might have produced some type of wicked reverse lunar tides.
“Yes, well... that's actually M3X-920 and it blocks out ninety percent of the sun. Thus, the sepulchral mood of this place,” Rodney explained, hands pointing and gesturing diagrams in the air.
“Why are we here?” Ronon asked.
“Like I said during the briefing, there are some very odd energy readings that should be investigated. I mean, the satellite MALP came back with patterns that are--”
“Rodney,” Teyla broke in to halt the lengthy explanation. “I think we want to know the real reason,” she said, arching a single eyebrow.
Funny how a simple facial gesture could instill fear instantly. John was envious.
“You know how Zelenka and I designed that search engine for the Ancient database?”
“You mean when you ripped off Google?” John taunted.
The shadows hid Rodney's reaction, but his livid expression was enunciated in his words. “No! Our engine is a hell of a lot more sophisticated, not to mention we downloaded an entire Ancient language dictionary into its primary---”
“I'm getting hungry, McKay,” Ronon interrupted.
Rodney whirled around. “Then you should have had lunch before--” He stopped mid-sentence. “Fine. My index for the database was remarkably more accurate than Radek's...which he disagreed with. So...”
“So, you each made separate ones and you're using this to test it out,” John finished.
The whole team waited and Rodney cleared his throat. “In a nutshell. Yes.”
“And this was the result,” Ronon snorted. “I think you lost.”
“We haven't even begun looking yet!” Rodney punched the keys on his tablet, turning the glowing screen to show them. “Those bands of yellow lines are ten times larger than normal and all those wavy red ones are not supposed to be well, wavy.”
“If this was a contest--”
“More like a friendly scientific experiment.”
Teyla shook her head. “Very well, if this was an experiment, then what did you use to find this place?”
“Yeah, what were the magic words?” John goaded. “And don't tell me one of them was Hawaii.”
“Did you really think you were going to hang ten out here, Colonel?”
John did his best not to react; at least the darkness was good for something.
“He was gonna give me a few pointers,” Ronon blabbed.
Rodney looked back at the tiny craft. “Oh, for crying out... wait, don't tell me you shoved surf boards into the jumper?”
“What GoogleFu did you use, McKay?” If they were going to explore a creepy planet where it was night all the time, John wanted to know why.
“I tried the usual things. ZedPM's. Hyperdrives. Wraith weakness. City schematics...” Rodney reacted to the set of shadowed, annoyed faces. “It wasn't easy, mind you. Nothing really came up that was useful and some terms were too broad where I'd get Atlantis' version of the dictionary or other useless records. I ended up using a combination of search terms: energy source, powerful, hidden... and something else that I forgot.”
“We came here because you used a random set of words?” John asked with dismay.
“Um, yeah.”
“Doesn’t sound very scientific, McKay,” John growled.
“It worked, didn't it? I mean. This is definitely something.”
John studied the eerie shadows their forms cast against the ground beneath them. The expanse of black sand made for a creepy backdrop. “Fine. We're here. Let's go check things out.”
---------
The light from their P-90s paved a bouncing path across the badlands, their boots sinking softly in the silt. The temperature was pleasant even if the surroundings were a continuous beach without a sea. Deserts were full of dunes that could swallow a man whole…this place was just barren, the sand only a few inches thick with a hard rocky surface underneath.
Remnants of volcanoes were scattered everywhere, lava crusts and cones long since gone dead. John checked the time, noting an hour had passed. “Why did you have me land the jumper if your readings were this far?”
“They keep shifting! Which in itself is indicative of strange and intriguing things,” Rodney replied excitedly.
“Or they're just random,” Ronon gruffed.
“No, I thought of that. The signal's not bouncing and it's actually getting stronger.”
“You think something or someone is controlling it?” Teyla asked, eyes searching the dark.
“Um. Maybe?”
John didn't like McKay's response, his trigger finger getting itchier the more they explored. That ominous feeling from earlier was stronger, including the whole icy fingers running down his spine thing. Call it a Spidey sense or whatever... it was going off like mad. “Maybe we should---”
Rodney froze. “What the hell?”
John halted; Ronon pointed his blaster aimlessly. “What?” the Satedan demanded.
“I do not sense any Wraith, but I'm feeling very... apprehensive. I do not know why,” Teyla spoke.
John felt a tingle, a jumpiness that had intensified tenfold. Teyla closed ranks, the three of them creating a circle, weapons poised while Rodney's fingers clacked on his tablet. “Wait!”
“Rodney!” John warned. He was poised to pull the trigger at anything.
“Colonel!”
John heard Teyla's voice and felt the ground pitch forward. “What's going on, McKay?”
“I don't know! My computer just died!”
“Okay, everyone, let's head back. I'm not interested in getting caught in any volcanic quakes!” John knew there was more to it, swinging the barrel of his rifle towards the rumbling ahead.
“Over there!” Ronon shouted.
Teyla gasped; John's weapon almost slipped from his fingers. “Where did that come from?”
“I have no idea,” Rodney whispered.
“Things don't just appear from thin air,” John growled. Then again this was Pegasus and he didn't need to see Rodney's 'are you an idiot' expression. “Okay, let me rephrase that. Did your Google search say anything about a mysterious city?”
-------
John didn't like surprises and this qualified as one hell of a discovery.
“It's beautiful,” Teyla said in an awe-filled voice.
There was no denying the exquisiteness of the structure in front of them. The structure was sleek, the entire outside constructed of panels... Was that glass? John squinted at the walls, the surfaces smooth and shiny despite very little light.
“It's like an elaborate greenhouse, except all black,” Rodney commented. “Of course this is roughly six stories tall. Kind of reminds me of those Disney World Land of Tomorrow buildings, but much cooler.”
“Looks like a giant box,” Ronon remarked, never lowering his gun.
John felt drawn towards it. “There are no towers, or domes. It’s just a… a monolith.”
“Let's pray that Hal doesn't control it,” Rodney quipped.
“How does something such as this exist here?” Teyla asked.
“Maybe it had a cloak,” John answered. “Makes you wonder why it appeared to us.”
“The energy signature is definitely coming from inside,” Rodney said, bouncing on his toes. “I mean, come on. What about this doesn't say explore me? It's a giant invitation.”
“That's what I'm afraid of,” John said, but the tiny city whispered to him. Coaxed him. All the hair on his arms stood on end, his stomach quivered, his feet moved forward before his brain registered the movement.
His team followed, all four of them on alert. “Not sure where the door is,” John commented, guiding the way with his weapon.
“Keep heading straight,” Rodney instructed.
John's skin felt charged, like they were walking through a cloud of static electricity. His ears popped, as if there was a change in air pressure. Rodney swallowed several times, obviously feeling the same thing. They came upon a large panel of glass; the team's reflection stared back at them.
“Maybe we should recite some magic incantation,” Rodney suggested sarcastically, searching for any sign of a control panel.
John held his hand up, ready to slide it down the polished surface, but he hesitated. Bad things happened when he touched unknown objects. This time, his caution wasn't enough. The tips of his fingers grew warm, being inches away enough to start a reaction.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” John said, snatching them back.
Rodney didn't seem convinced. But it was too late. The wall shimmered into a million dots of light- then it disappeared.
“Finally,” a voice boomed from inside.
John had enough time to share an oh, crap expression before the glass walls around them glistened, and the blackness stole his vision.
-----
The coarse sand of the planet scraped at his skin, jolting John awake.
“Hey.”
Ronon offered him a hand up, the others coming to around him. “What?”
“Not sure what happened. We're in some courtyard, I think,” Ronon said, guiding him to wobbly feet.
Teyla helped a swaying Rodney up. John scrubbed a hand over his face, noticing his empty holster, the snipped tether of his P-90.
“We've been stripped of weapons, even my knives.”
It took a second to clear the fog from John's head, the obsidian glass of the city's walls surrounding them in the distance. They were in a huge void of space, black sand under their feet, stars twinkling through the twilight above them in the sky. “Seems kind fancy for a fort,” John said. Because there really wasn't anything around except walls. Where were the rooms? Or the ceilings they saw from the outside?
“Colonel.” Teyla reached for a weapon that was no longer strapped to her thigh.
Ronon acted like he didn't require one, posture coiled and ready to strike. Rodney seemed antsier than normal without a computer to focus his attention. John took the lead, stepping forward to meet with the emerging figure.
“You return, yet it will not open. It opened, yes, but now it is shut. Why have you shut it? Why come inside and not allow the outside to break through?”
John wasn't prepared for the unintelligible rant, sneaking a look of bewilderment with his team before tensing for an altercation. “I don't understand.”
The alien came into full view. It was slender and tall. Very tall. Towered over Ronon, its slight body skittering in agitation, its head bobbing about on a wiry neck. The odd being's sole article of clothing was a simple white robe, like a monk’s; even its feet were bare. There was no hint to its gender, if it had one, but the voice had a male human’s timbre. “You!” It pointed a blue-skinned hand at the Satedan, shaking its only three fingers. “You! No, no, not you!”
The alien's eyes were yellow, its pupils dilating and expanding rapidly. John held out his hand, trying to gain the skittish being's attention. “Hey. I'm not sure what's going on here but--”
“Silence! No talking! No, no talking, don't know what to do with the talking,” it babbled. But as soon as the words left the alien's mouth, it surged forward, eliciting a growl of warning from Ronon.
John stood still, body tense, but waited. The tension was high and he knew if the creature attacked him, his team would come to his aid. The alien's entire body thrummed with nervousness, but when it got closer, it stilled. “You,” it whispered. “You broke the lock. YOU made the lock!”
Before John could utter a word, the creature's head whipped over at Rodney. “And you helped. Didn't you? I can tell. Together you bound me here and now you've returned. You try to hide, but this one,” the alien pointed at John. “This one cannot deny who he is.”
“We are explorers and we mean you no harm,” Teyla interceded. “What is your name?”
“Name?” The alien's hands flapped. “I am Othrol.”
“Othrol, I am Teyla and these are my friends, John, Rodney and Ronon.” She smiled, calm and serene.
“Friends?” Othrol’s eyes sparkled, neck standing tall, showcasing for the first time how big the creature was despite its thin frame. “Friends,” it breathed. Then the yellow of its eyes grew dark. “Yesssss. Yes, yes. You came to be friends.”
John stepped closer towards Teyla. “I'm sure earlier, when you knocked us all out, was just a misunderstanding.”
“No, no misunderstanding. You want to be friends. It has been so long since anyone has come here.” Othrol rubbed at its temple, the bluish skin around its hairless head wrinkling. “Do not have enough energy to play with all of you.”
“Play?” Rodney laughed.
John shot him a look, but it was too late.
“You came to play. Has been so long since I was allowed to play. Was brought here for playing too much. Left here to play alone, by self, but now...” Othrol's voice went from high-pitched to a low rumble. “I can have fun again.”
John didn't like the manic, gleeful look of their new pal. He glanced at Ronon, silently communicating to wait for his cue. Teyla caught his signal, her eyes letting him know she was ready for anything. Rodney had a jittery expression, but he gulped, nodding.
“Look, we don't mean to burst your bubble, but we need to talk to our people. Let them know we're okay. So, if you could show us the way out, we can come back.” John gave the alien a charming smile.
“Way out? There is no out. Only in. They locked me in and left. They were afraid of me… of what I can do. People like you, who glow bright,” Othrol pointed at John.
“Othrol, we want to stay, but must leave here for just a little while. Trying to frighten us will not make it easy for us to be friends,” Teyla reasoned.
The alien held up its hands. “You can all leave, but one will stay. If you are not the ones who imprisoned me, then you cannot set me free. But I will not remain alone any longer.”
John didn't know what bothered him the most, the obvious change in personality or the threat. They had no idea what this alien was capable of, but it was four against one if need be. “Listen, buddy...”
“Silence! I will choose one of you to remain. To be my companion forever. But do not think I will settle for anyone. I will choose only the worthy.” Othrol was no longer jumping around like it was hopped up on too much caffeine. Nervousness became a sinister confidence. “I will no longer be alone,” it breathed. “I have four new minds to explore. Four new realms to play in.”
---------
“We will not stay with you,” Teyla informed him. “We have come to you in peace, but we will defend ourselves if necessary.”
“Defend?” Othrol’s gaze lost focus. “Yes. Defend,” it rumbled.
“Just show us the exit and we’ll be on our way,” John said.
Othrol’s eyes suddenly sharpened. “Exit?” it squeaked. “Oh, no. You must stay.” A hand fluttered, and a smile blossomed. “New friends! Come.” It walked through their midst and opened a door behind them. “Come, come, come,” it beckoned, “Hungry you must be.”
“Was that door there before?” John whispered.
“I do not believe so,” Teyla murmured in reply.
Rodney sniffed the air appreciatively. “Is that coffee?”
Othrol peered back at them. “Come!”
“What do you think?” Ronon asked.
John frowned. “Something’s off, but we don’t seem to have a lot of options at the moment. Let’s make nice for now, but keep your eyes open.”
They followed Othrol through the doorway into an oval room of gleaming white marble. Four pillars arched from the floor, connecting at the ceiling in a flurry of scallops. An iridescent table sprouted in the center, laden with fruits, breads, and cheeses.
The door banged shut behind them as Othrol waved delightedly, setting another tray on the table. “Please, sit. Eat.”
When Othrol scurried into a side room, Rodney yanked the door back open. “Oh, this is not good.”
The courtyard, the sand, the glass - all were completely gone. In their place was a cavernous room with dark wood paneling and numerous works of art - paintings, sculptures, ceramics, bronzes and more from hundreds of cultures.
“No!” Othrol shouted. It pasted a smile on and implored, “Please. Explore later. Come and eat. Talk. Tell me of your world.”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk,” John said.
It blinked innocently. “Not want to talk? It has been so long. The talking is needed. Need it in order to play. To have fun. Please.”
At John’s nod, they took their places around the table. Teyla sniffed at the beverage while Ronon tasted the food, snatching a purple fruit from Rodney and handing him a green one. Othrol sat between Teyla and John, its head bobbing happily.
“Aren’t you having any?” John asked.
“Of course.” Othrol selected a pale crimson fruit, peeling it with great care as it turned to Teyla. “What world are you from?”
“I am Athosian.”
“Athosian,” Othrol repeated, enunciating each syllable in a precise low tone. “Athosian. I know not of your people. Tell me of them.”
Othrol’s attention was riveted on her as she spoke about her people and their ways. Its eyes were mesmerizing, the yellow deepening to gold, the pupils constricting to pinpoints. She was falling, soaring, spiraling…
I see you.
“Teyla?”
She flinched at Ronon’s voice in her ear, pain spiking through her head. Teyla blinked in bewilderment. “What happened?”
“You kind of zoned out,” Rodney said, his eyes wide in concern.
Teyla turned to Othrol. “My apologies. I do not know…”
A hint of cruelty flashed in its eyes but disappeared so quickly she must have imagined it. “Do not concern yourself.” Othrol stood and inclined its head. “A small matter requires attention.” Its robe swished across the marbled floor as it disappeared into the museum.
Once they were alone, Rodney sat back and folded his arms. “Blue Boy is not quite all there.”
“Rodney!” Teyla scolded. “You know nothing of Othrol or its - his - people.”
Ronon snorted and reached for another slice of bread. “McKay’s right. He’s weird.”
“And he is our host,” she reminded them. “Although I will admit I am concerned about his behavior.”
“Like I said, not all there.”
“We need to find a way out of here,” John said. “Suggestions?”
“I could force it out of him,” Ronon offered.
Teyla arched a brow. “What if there are more of his people here?”
“You think he was lying when he said he was alone?” John asked.
“I think nothing has been what it appears so far.” Teyla sighed, massaging a temple as the vice around her head tightened. “I do not think we can trust anything he says.”
Rodney leaned forward, elbows on the table. “I haven’t seen any sign of technology so far. Nothing.”
John nodded. “I noticed that. How’d he make that art museum appear?”
“How has he made anything appear? I’d expect to see hologram tech, some kind of remote control. Hell, a console would be nice.”
Ronon’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. “Did you hear that?”
“What?” Rodney asked.
“Shut up and listen.”
Teyla concentrated. A faint wail reached her ears.
John was on his feet in an instant. “What is that?”
Ronon stalked to the door that led to the museum and cracked it open. The cry sounded again, feeble and desolate. “This way.”
“Where are you going?” Rodney hissed.
Teyla joined Ronon at the door. “It sounds like something is in pain.”
“Othrol?” John asked.
Ronon shrugged. “That’d be my guess.”
“We must help,” Teyla stated.
Rodney crossed his arms. “Has it occurred to you that whatever hurt him could hurt us? You don’t even have a knife.”
“Man’s got a point,” John said. “Find something to fight with.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, that’s not what I-” Rodney heaved a sigh. “Fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.”
Teyla scoured the dining room but found nothing of use. Rodney was hefting each tray on the table while Ronon and John checked the side room. Teyla peeked into the museum, scanning the artifacts, turning back when John and Ronon emerged from the side room whispering harshly. At her arched brow, they quieted.
“Sheppard took the only knife,” Ronon muttered.
At times she wondered how she ended up on a team of children. “Perhaps you would like this better?” she said pointedly, gesturing at the far museum wall.
His eyes lit up as he spotted the weaponry. Grinning wolfishly, he stepped silently into the room and relieved the wall of a short sword and a shield. Teyla sorted through a group of musical instruments until she found a pair of drum sticks.
“Hey, what if Blue Boy gets pissed because you touched his stuff?”
“This was your idea, McKay,” John said.
“Searching through the funhouse armed with artwork and kitchen utensils was not my idea. We can always-”
The plaintive wail sounded again. Something about it struck a chord in Teyla, something familiar, just out of reach. She strode toward the sound, gripping the sticks tightly.
“Wait!” Rodney shouted. “I don’t have-” He cast about, searching, grabbing a large bronze basin, putting it back before snatching up a smaller one. “Okay. I’m ready.”
They crept through the maze of pedestals and display cases until they reached the far corner. At Ronon’s nod, Teyla jerked the door open. Ronon slipped through, followed closely by John who waved her and Rodney in. They were in a crumbling ruin of a room filled with consoles covered in dust and debris.
“Oh!” Rodney exclaimed. “Now we’re talking.”
Ronon’s brows shot up. “Seriously?”
Rodney rubbed his hands together and headed for the console in the center of the room. “Watch and learn, my friend.” He crawled underneath it and started pulling out crystals.
“Is this stuff Ancient?” John asked.
“Yeah,” Rodney answered. “Not as sophisticated as Atlantis but close.”
Teyla patrolled the perimeter of the room, searching for anything of use. Shattered jars and vials from overturned worktables littered the floor, crunching under her shoes. Several cabinets were on their sides. The walls were warped, scorched, as if they had suffered battle damage.
“So is this an Ancestor city after all?” Ronon ducked under a dangling ceiling tile as he checked the far side of the room.
“I’ll let you know,” Rodney answered. “Sheppard, did you find any unbroken crystals?”
“Not yet.” John dug through a pile of debris near the door. “Does the color matter?”
“Not right now.”
Something moved at the edge of Teyla’s peripheral vision. She caught a flash of blue and white that vanished around a corner. A mournful cry rose in that direction, faint and weak. Stepping gingerly through the rubble, she hurried toward it.
“Othrol?” she called.
She rounded the corner cautiously. A part of the wall lay in the middle of the floor, and the lights flickered, but the anteroom was empty. Not even a door. She turned to go but stopped as a cloud of dust rose from the crumbled wall.
Something flew at her with a shriek. Its barbed tail lashed, scratching her cheek, barely missing her eye. Throwing her hands over her face, she stumbled backward and fell then rolled to her feet, gripping the sticks tightly, ready for the next attack.
“Teyla?”
She wheeled around, prepared to defend herself. “John?”
He stepped into the hallway, knife in hand. “What’s wrong?”
Teyla scanned the hallway, the ceiling, the floor. “Nothing. I- I-”
“Hey, you’re bleeding. What happened?”
She dabbed at the warm trickle on her cheek. “I am uncertain. I thought I saw Othrol, but there’s nothing here. Then this… creature flew…”
John tugged her into the main room and pulled an antiseptic wipe from his vest. “What creature?”
“You didn’t see it?”
“No.” He gently cleansed the scratch. “What did it look like?”
“I really didn’t-” She felt the blush creep up her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
Ronon crouched beside her. “What is it?”
“I am sure I am mistaken.”
“About what?” Rodney poked his head out from under the console. “Are you okay?”
“I am fine. I don’t…”
“Teyla, just tell us what you saw,” John said.
“There is a legend among my people, the legend of the Hashal.” She looked to Ronon. “Do you know of it?”
“Never heard of them.”
“The Hashal were winged creatures of great strength and beauty tasked with the guardianship of the Old City.”
Ronon frowned. “What old city?”
“On Athos. It was destroyed thousands of years ago.”
“Guess they weren’t very good guardians.”
Teyla gave a slight smile. “They were cast out of the city long before it fell. They had grown proud, arrogant. They attempted to wrest control of the city from our people. They failed, of course. As punishment, their beauty was taken, and they were banished from the city, forced to live in the wild, to forage for food, to fend for themselves. After the Wraith destroyed the city, the Hashal returned to claim it as their own. They are said to remain there to this day, infesting the rubble, defending it from invaders.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “Riiiiiight.”
“It is a legend, Rodney. My father told the story to keep us away from the ruins.”
John shuddered. “The last time you said something like that I wound up with a big-ass bug stuck to my neck.”
“And these Hashal look like whatever attacked you?” Ronon asked.
“I have never seen one,” Teyla admitted. “But I used to imagine them as a child. Black fur with red eyes, wings, a long barbed tail.”
John’s brow quirked. “Bats?”
“If you mean the flying creatures in Batman, no. This creature looks more like a bird of prey except for the tail and the teeth.”
“Teeth?” Rodney’s eyes drifted toward the high ceiling. “Sharp teeth?”
The keening wail began again, echoing all around them.
John stood, his eyes raking the room. “That sounds like more than one.”
“Close, too,” Ronon added, turning to stand back-to-back with John.
“McKay, have you got that fixed yet?”
“Are you kidding? All I have is broken shards of a thousand different crystals, and I haven’t located the power source.”
“We should leave,” Teyla announced. “Now.”
“And go where?” Rodney asked. “This is the first hint of technology I’ve seen. I need more time. If I’m going to get us out of here-”
The walls shook, and dust rained from the ceiling. The wail became a shriek.
“Okay, never mind.” Rodney hopped to his feet and grabbed his basin. “Let’s go.”
They had almost reached the door when the assault began. Black creatures converged from everywhere, shrieking, clawing, lashing. Teyla sliced at them with her sticks, feeling the burn of the barb along her arms. She spun, the sticks a blur as she knocked one creature down only to have two more take its place. Ronon fought behind her, stabbing and blocking. Creatures bounced off his shield with a dull thud, and dark blood sprayed each time his sword arced. The shrieking and beating of wings was unbearable, drowning out all thought.
A scream of pain rose above the din. Teyla whirled in panic. Four of the creatures had John pinned to the floor between the wall and a console. His knife was buried in one, but still its tail swished, gouging his BDUs. The others hovered over him; two were pecking and tearing at the arms he had flung over his head, and the other clawed at his chest. John kicked and flailed, but he didn’t have enough room to get away. Rodney had scrambled onto the console and was pounding at them with his basin, ignoring the tails lashing him, scoring his face and chest.
Teyla slashed at the ones surrounding Rodney. One fell then another but they kept coming. “Ronon! We must get out of here!”
Ronon roared in response as he carved a vicious path to the door. Teyla impaled a creature with one stick, but the other was batted away in a flurry of wings. Sweat and blood mixed on Rodney’s face as he beat at the creatures attacking John. Teyla grabbed John’s legs and heaved. John slid from the rubble and rolled on his side. She kicked at the creatures on him until they flopped away then she and Rodney pulled him to his feet and headed for the door. Rodney threw his basin at a creature as it ripped at Ronon’s arm. The creature fell but took Ronon’s sword with it. Rodney slammed his shoulder into the door, and he and John collapsed through it. Teyla stumbled through behind them but turned back when Ronon’s shield clanged to the floor as the creatures descended on him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tugged, hitting the ground hard as Ronon’s full weight landed on top of her. Rolling, she staggered to her feet and wheeled to slam the door.
And gasped.
All she could see was black glass, shifting sands, and starlight. They were back where they’d started.
---------
Ronon was a flurry of hand and sword, metal hitting bone and fur-covered flesh. He ignored the blood splatter on his face, his burning and stinging skin. It was all about reaching the door and once he got there-it became a blur of animal teeth and claws. He felt the arms around his waist, the whooshing of air as he was pulled to the ground. Teyla shifted out from under his weight then she gasped.
That's all it took.
He lurched back to his feet, balling his fists, searching for a target.
His breaths came fast and furious, the adrenaline rush settling to a dull roar. He whirled around at Teyla's astonished expression, taking in the return of the black desert, allowing quivering muscles to sag.
“Oh, God, I'm bleeding!”
Ronon scanned his surroundings, checking for movement before turning to the team.
“Hold still, McKay!” John snapped. The colonel pulled out a field bandage, his attention divided between first aid and assessing the situation.
Their eyes met and Ronon nodded, giving his CO a rundown of things in the gesture. No sign of the creatures. They were safe for the moment.
“Ronon, you're injured,” Teyla said, standing next to him.
“I'm fine. But I dropped the sword inside,” Ronon growled, more upset at loss of the weapon.
“Those things almost pecked my eyes out!” Rodney's face was bloodied, rivulets dripped from a pattern of gashes across his left cheek. He sat on the ground, the upper half of his shirt torn by a rake of claws.
John pulled aside the ripped fabric then his eyes filled with relief. “None of them are too deep,” he reported.
“Are you kidding me? I'm going to need so many stitches, Keller's going to make me into a quilt,” Rodney complained, dabbing at the cut above his eyebrow with a bandage.
Ronon looked down at the bite marks on his arms and pulled out a dressing to wrap up the worst of the gashes in left bicep. “Where did those things come from?”
“I don't know, but I don't think it was a coincidence that the missing member of the Blue Man Group ducked out before they attacked,” John answered as he checked on McKay's injuries one last time.
Teyla moved over to John as he sat down heavily next to the scientist. “You're bleeding.”
Ronon kept an eye on the walls; every inch had been polished into a dark eerie shine. Glass reflected more planes of glass, warping the size and dimensions of the outside. Nothing made sense. Elaborate, artsy foundations that could shatter outside, a museum and rich marble inside.
Teyla wrapped a roll of white gauze around John's thigh. “I still have no idea why the Hashal would be here.”
The colonel hissed when she finished applying the pressure-dressing and he gently moved hands away that were intent on inspecting the blood seeping through his t-shirt. “I've got it. Thank you,” he said, peering down at his chest. He tried tending to the numerous cuts there, and, like the ones that marred his arms, there were just too many to do anything about.
Ronon sympathized; he'd wear his long-sleeved coat next time, arid climate be damned.
“So, those Hashal things. You’ve never seen one before now?” John asked.
“No, as I said they were stories I heard as a child. I now know firsthand that their viciousness is very real. But it still does not explain anything,” she pondered.
“Does it matter? Shouldn't we try finding our way out of here?” Rodney blurted, wincing as talking pulled at the scratches on his face. “Ow.”
“Okay. Somehow we ended up outside again. Maybe we can trace our way back,” John said, getting to his feet, hands patting down his uniform out of habit for his gun.
Ronon felt just as antsy; they were all unarmed in hostile territory. His teammates took a second to collect themselves and waited on him to pick a direction. Thin layers of sand shifted with the constant breeze, wiping away any earlier footprints. The black glass refracted blurry images of his team, and he searched for recognizable shapes or patterns from earlier.
There, a scuffmark along the eastern wall, the top of the glass slightly uneven with the rest. That was the direction they came from. “This way,” he said.
Ronon took point, walking close using the black confines of the city as cover. He kept his hand out to trace the smooth surfaces to make sure another door wasn't hidden within the crystal blackness. He cast looks behind him, to check on his team, eyes lingering on Teyla's troubled face.
“You still bothered by those flying things?” he asked.
“It is just... to see legends such as those... after all these years. It is... unsettling,” Teyla admitted.
Ronon didn't comment, thoughts drifting back to a time when stories had meaning. Life was too hard and too unpredictable for such things. He learned that at a young age, preparing for military training as soon as he was tall enough to fit the requirements despite his mother's protests. He allowed a small smile; a sense of warmth and pride filled his being.
“You alright, big guy?”
“Hmmm?”
“You seemed to drift off there,” John said with concern.
Ronon found himself rubbing at his temples to rid a growing ache. He shook his head, eyes attentive to the path. “I'm fine.” But he betrayed his discomfort, slowing down, body tensing.
All four reflections of his team stared back at him, their battered bodies and expressions distorted by the black finish. A flash of blue skin and tiny twin yellow orbs in the mirrored surface caused him to spin around, eyes searching his friend's backs.
“What is it?” Teyla asked, readied for anything.
“Nothing. Thought I saw something,” Ronon replied, scanning the empty space behind them.
The wind began to swirl, stirring up the sand, causing them to shield their faces.
“All we need is to be caught in the middle of a sand storm!” Rodney hollered.
Ronon held a hand to his face; the air filled with millions of tiny black specs. He opened his mouth to suggest they make a run for it, only for the wind to die suddenly. He blinked away the grit from his eyes, coughing at the irritants in his lungs.
Then he stood there, slack-jawed.
“Oh, God. What now?” Rodney said between hacks.
They were underground, in a dark cavern lit by torches scattered along the wall. Sweat beaded across Ronon's forehead as heat radiated from somewhere deeper inside. “I don't know, but I don't like it.”
“Agreed,” John said, moving stiffly towards one of the torches and grabbing it.
Ronon went to the opposite wall and yanked down his own; Teyla followed suit.
“Wait! I don't have one!” Rodney hissed, inching closer to John.
The air reeked of sulfur and the scorched ground was littered with bones and ash. They all stood shoulder to shoulder, breathing rapidly at the sounds of approaching footsteps. Ronon moved forward to confront whatever was closing in --and froze.
It couldn't be.
A large man appeared, with several inches on Ronon and even more muscle. His head was crowned with waist-length matted dreadlocks and he wore black leather pants and a metal vest of well-dinged armor. The tops of his shoulder were adored with spikes and when he marched towards them, his dark eyes reflected no fear.
“You are the guardians to the pits of Gabennas?” the warrior mocked.
“You... you can't be...” Ronon stared, his mouth not connecting to his startled brain.
“You know this person, buddy?” John asked.
“I am Makamon and I will cast you back to the fires of Gabennas!”
“Fires? We're not guarding anything! Go or take whatever you want!” Rodney stuttered.
Makamon drew a short sword from the sheath at his belt, the metal glinting back the light of the flames.
Ronon drew up his torch, pushing back the fear of going up against this man with only a wooden rod tipped with a burning rag.
Teyla stood beside him. “We mean you no harm. We're just traveling and do not wish any conflict.”
Makamon snorted. “Lies and tricks. Prepare to go back to your master!”
Ronon waited, anticipating the lunge immediately before it happened. The sharp blade split the torch in half, Ronon ducking to keep his head from experiencing the same. Makamon swung around to meet Teyla's attack from the other side, the force of his downward swing enough to send her sprawling to the ground.
Ronon growled deep in his throat, using the broken part of the torch to crack down on the warrior's skull. Makamon easily dodged out of the way but wasn't prepared for the handful of ash John threw in his face.
Blinded, the giant lashed out at John. The colonel jumped back, avoiding the tip of the sword as it slashed past his midsection. Ronon took advantage of the opening, smashing the torch handle into the large man's face while grappling for the sword awkwardly with his other hand.
Makamon slammed an elbow into Ronon's sternum and used the hilt of his weapon to land a blow on his temple. Ronon staggered, stunned.
Teyla and John attacked at once. Makamon sidestepped and twisted away in two graceful moves, their torches landing harmlessly on his armor-protected chest and shoulders and missing his head. The big man countered, backhanding Teyla in the face hard enough to send her flying. Her body smacked the wall and crumpled in a heap. Then the giant rolled his sword around to meet John's wooden rod with a crack!
“Oh, crap.”
Blood dripped in Ronon's eyes, his vision swimming. John's torch was in splintered pieces and the pilot was grappling with the warrior. Ronon watched dumbly as John attempted an ill-advised tackling move.
The colonel shoved his shoulder into Makamon's belly with all his might-which wasn't enough. John stood up in time for the warrior to brutally jab him in the larynx with the handle of his blade.
John dropped to his knees, gasping, hands wrapped protectively around his throat. Makamon stood above him, his sword held aloft with both hands, readying the killing blow.
Out of nowhere Rodney screamed, launching himself in a clumsy and wild manner.
It was the worst battle cry ever. But Ronon used it. He smashed both fists against his foe's ears. Makamon dropped his weapon, grunting. Ronon sought out the weak spots on his enemy's body. The nose, backs of knees, groin. He pummeled with balled fist after balled fist. Kick after kick.
Rodney used Teyla's discarded torch to burn the warrior's hands any time he brought them up to strike.
Makamon roared, knocking the torch out of Rodney's hands and smacking him in the face in crazed desperation. “You will not prevent my quest!” He flung himself at Ronon, the two of them rolling on the ground in a frenzy. “I will bring my army back from Gabennas! Sateda will rise again!”
This was not real. Ronon landed on his back, two meaty hands around his throat. Stars danced before him; his lungs screamed for air. His face flushed red from lack of oxygen as the fingers throttled him.
“Tell your master that the gods are on my side!” Makamon declared, sweat dripping down his face onto Ronon's.
The heat boiled all around him and blackness closed in around his vision. Then Makamon's body shuddered, his fingers loosened, red flecks spat from his mouth.
Ronon sputtered, sucking in air, the cave spinning madly around him. He couldn't move, but the great warrior staggered and fell to show his sword sticking out of the middle of his back.
John dropped to one knee, wheezing. “Got... you.”
Makamon would not die so easily, gurgling on his own blood, flailing about in desperation.
Rodney was back on his feet, staring wide-eyed at the towering man. Makamon made one final surge and Rodney jumped out of the way, sticking out his leg to trip him. The giant felt face first, still crawling on his hands and knees. Still fighting.
Teyla emerged from the shadows and took hold of the sword, pressing it deeper into the man's flesh. The great Makamon's body stilled, and Ronon felt sorrow mixed with pride and relief at the death.
“Wanna tell us... who that was?” John managed between painful swallows.
“It was...” Yet Ronon couldn't complete the thought. Despite the dead body in front of him, it couldn't be real. Then again, he'd seen crazier things. “Makamon was a great hero on Sateda. One of our greatest warriors.”
“Hero?” Rodney snorted. “Didn't seem very hero-like to me.”
“Do not mock Ronon's history,” Teyla admonished. She looked over to him. “Was he one of your leaders?”
Ronon laughed. This was crazy. “No, he wasn't. He was one of our greatest figures. A character.”
“Like in a book?” John asked.
“No. In plays.”
“You guys had theater?”
Ronon only glared at the scientist.
“What? I didn't know? Jeesh.”
“There were stories growing up. Makamon the Great. Chosen by the gods to be a great champion. Tested over and over again. Able to track his enemies from one continent to the other. Forced into combat against hundreds of Guftkuas.”
“Like Hercules,” John said.
“He wasn't a cartoon,” Ronon growled.
“No, no. I mean, yeah, that was a Disney movie, but we had someone similar on Earth,” the colonel defended.
It wasn't the same. Makamon was blinded by the gods once, forced to find his sword out of thousands by touch alone. And once he found it, sent to battle an entire army by himself. His son was turned into an insect and he could only see him in human form once a year, always fearful he would kill him by accident any other time.
“I'd go to the city theater every full cycle. I saw the tale of Semperas over and over again. One day the entire Satedan army was turned into a forest by a magician, forced to watch helpless as our planet was ravaged by the hordes from the eastern side. Makamon went to Gabennas - you’d call it the underworld - and brought back all our greatest fallen warriors and raised an army to defeat those who would destroy Sateda.” Ronon shook his head, the movement sending blinding pain through his skull. “They were plays. It wasn't real.”
John coughed, rubbed at his throat before talking. “And your flying beasts. They were mythical?” he asked Teyla.
“They were. But they were not revered. The tales of the Hashal were used to frighten children. Teach them lessons about vanity and selfishness.” She rubbed at the back of her head, eyes closed. “I never saw a picture of them.”
“Oh, God. How many times do we have to deal with aliens and mind altering devices,” Rodney sighed. He began pacing the room. “Maybe that's what the energy sources are, but we haven't touched anything. Perhaps there's something in the air and we're all hallucinating. Or something's emitting a frequency, like the time we encountered that Wraith tech and Sheppard shot everyone.”
“Hey!”
“What about that crystal that affected all our dreams?” Ronon asked. “Could that weird guy be like one of those things?”
“I don't think so. It used Sheppard as a host to start off with.” Rodney snapped his fingers. “I'm sensing a pattern.”
The colonel didn't look amused.
“But those were dreams,” Teyla pointed out.
Ronon took the time to really check out the cave. It felt so real. The blistering heat, the decayed remains of the dead at their feet, the open mouth at the end of the cavern. It was like they were really at the entrance of Gabennas.
“Let's get outta here. We'll try to figure out what the hell is going on while we try to find a way out,” John suggested. He cleared his throat, wincing, eyes scanning the darkness. “Um...”
Ronon's head felt two sizes too small. It hurt to think but he’d led them here. He'd lead them out. “This way.”
They followed him through the winding passages, all their torches useless and broken. The further they walked, the darker it got.
“Maybe this isn't such a good idea, guys,” Rodney squeaked.
With those words, complete darkness engulfed them, their boots crunching bones and rock. He’d been certain this was the right way. Just as his eyes adjusted to the blackness, they came upon light and sand.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Rodney exclaimed.
Ronon almost hit him for aggravating his headache with that whiny tone but gave up the thought as he set his sights on the weird alien standing before them.
“Wait,” John hissed.
Ronon didn't want to wait; he wanted to grab the blue guy around his scrawny neck. But he stopped, following his friend's lead.
The slender alien bobbed its head excitedly, its three fingers curling and uncurling. “Friends, friends. You return.”
“Yeah, despite a few roadblocks along the way. You happen to know anything about those? Little nasty flying bats. A big guy with a sword and bad attitude?” John asked, stepping boldly forward.
Othrol went from flighty to hostile. He pointed at the colonel. “You, you, you! And you!” he hissed as he turned to thrust a digit at Rodney. “Locked me up! And flew away!”
“We did what?” Rodney snapped. “What are you talking about?'
The alien fluttered its hands, neck twisting and bending around like a snake’s. “You punished me! Locked the door then came back! Opened the door then closed it. Locked inside with me now.”
“What punishment?” John asked, his face scrunched up and uneasy.
“Tired of my head. Head is empty. Used up. Wanted more, needed more.” Othrol fluttered about. “Had to find more. Find and use and fill head again. But told wrong. Wrong to use more, use others.”
“This is making my headache worse,” Rodney complained, rubbing at his temple and hissing as he touched a sensitive spot.
“Is this,” John waved at the glass structure, “a prison?”
The blue man looked at all the glass, yellow eyes gleaming. “This? Yes. No, no, no!” He began slamming his palms against his head. “This is!” Othrol wailed and screamed. Punched his tiny skull. “Is empty! No more new! Nothing inside to use. All alone with just Othrol!”
Ronon wanted to hit the guy too, to keep him from going on. Teyla looked on in sympathy. Rodney and John only seemed confused.
Then the being stilled, taking a more predatory stance. Posture rigid, eyes flat. Ronon waited, expecting anything.
“I am not alone now. Have new things, new images. Will keep on exploring. Taking and playing. Will pick one of you who is best, whose head is filled with more. Cannot keep you all.”
“No one is staying here,” John growled and coughing again.
Othrol deflated, fingers pressing into his temples. “Pleeease. Please stay. Been alone for so long,” he sniffed.
Was he going to cry now? Ronon couldn't keep up with all of this. The alien was out of his mind.
Teyla raised her hands in a non-threatening way. “If you let us out, we will try to help you.”
Othrol's body relaxed, head swirling around. “Help? You'll help me?”
Finally. Words that made sense. Ronon watched Teyla try to reason with him. “Of course. We're explorers. We like to meet new people and share knowledge and offer assistance.” She took a tentative step closer, as if approaching a wounded animal.
“Oh, friends. This is great news. One of you will make a great companion. Your minds are so wondrous and exciting. So full of new danger and fun. Enough to last a long time. I wish to have you all, but only the most thrilling one can remain!” Six fingers tapped against each other in enthusiasm. “Which one? Which one?”
Rodney got that 'we're so screwed' expression. “Oh, no. You can get inside our heads, can't you?”
Othrol grinned, the crazy, scary part taking over again. “Time to play.”
Ronon wasn't going to wait to see what that meant. He went after the alien, intending only to capture him, but Othrol disappeared, vanished from sight.
Part Two