Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 3/? (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Supply and Demand: Stolen Part 3/? (SPN/SGA AU Crossover)
Author: Tari_Roo
Chapter 3
The grass of Catastrophe was oddly spongy and soft, still green and grass like but not the usual. So it made for nice padding for his knees as he knelt in the bright sunlight from two small suns. The small balding man had taken one look at Sheppard towering over him and motioned for the mercenary.
A stiff jab at his legs and Sheppard had obliged by dropping to his knees, swallowing the groan as he did so.
“Colonel Sheppard. What are you doing here?”
Sheppard smiled, squinting a little in the overhead sunlight. “Now that’s hardly fair. You know my name and I don’t know yours.”
The little man smiled in return and wiped his brow, mopping up a few beads of sweat. “What’s fair got to do with anything. My prisoner, my questions. What are you doing here?”
John shook his head, “No, really the much more pressing question is, what in the hell are you doing here?”
The mercenary behind him shoved the muzzle of his AK into John’s back and the little guy laughed, ”I won’t ask again, Colonel.”
A stiff little breeze stirred the long grass, the cloudless sky an unrelenting blue. Ignoring the muzzle digging into his shoulder Sheppard persisted, “I’m serious. We are supposed to be here.... this being Pegasus and all. You, not so much.”
The punch was swift and brutal, right on his jaw and its growing collection of bruises and John fell forward a little, before catching himself. Moving his jaw, hoping a tooth hadn’t been knocked loose and wincing at the collective ache, Sheppard snapped up at the mercenary, “Nice one. Makes talking all the more easier.“
“What are you doing here, or should I start on your friends?” The little guy was scanning the area, not really looking at John, or the unconscious forms of Teyla and Rodney at his feet. The City had been quiet, abandoned stillness. The camp though was bustle in motion and discordant with the normal atmosphere of Catastrophe, all the markers of an invasion.
“We’re doing our job, moron. Exploring Pegasus.”
Hmmming to himself, pulling out his little handkerchief again, the man mused, “This world was cleared already, closed, finished, done with. No more visits.”
“Oh yeah, and how do you know that?” John asked, peering up at the man, feeling a trickle of sweat seep down his back. The next punch was twice as hard and John bit his tongue with the force of it. Spitting out blood, really, really tired of being in this position for the umpteenth time, he sighed, “No really, how do you know this world is ‘closed’? Because I sure as hell didn’t ‘close’ it.”
The third punch was a little off, as Sheppard caught the movement in time and managed to pull back so it glanced more than hit but still the left side of his face was screaming at him, a headache blossoming. Between the questioning out in the city and now, he was going to a walking bruise. The mercenary snarled and was about to hit him again, when the little man held up his hand.
Obedient, the mercenary glared menacingly at Sheppard but living with Ronon and facing off with Wraith kinda made any other attempts at looking scary laughable, so Sheppard rolled his eyes.
“Alright, Colonel. Different question then. Where is Ronon?”
“Who?”
The next punch spilt his lip.
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Taylor shoved on a pair of sunglasses as he stepped out of the tent he was sharing with Durrant and Hughes. It was a little cramped even if the tent was a luxury, old style safari type, with a high roof and head height door, but since none of them could agree as to who would share a tent with Dean first, let alone any roster system thereafter, all three Kinetics were in one tent and Dean got his own. And it was probably for the best anyway to give their little Empath some space and private time.
Dean was asleep, his slumber restless and light and as Taylor looked over at the canvas tent, he could see why. Durrant was hovering near the open doorway, peering in but not yet brave enough to venture inside. His agitation though was enough to disturb the Empath and alert the other Kinetics.
Well, Taylor at least.
Hughes was on his back, staring up at the suns, absently wiping his still bleeding nose. He was levitating a smattering of objects in the air. Keys, stones, leaves, a bullet and they all moved in a swirl of concentric intersecting circles. It looked, peaceful.
Durrant though was far from peaceful, his agitation clear both physically and mentally. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Taylor strolled towards Durrant, running a careful eye on his surroundings. He’d heard and felt the rise in emotion in the camp. Augusto was a hotspot of anxiety and the mercenaries and scientists were all projecting increased nerves and worry.
Actually, perhaps that was why both Dean and Durrant were restless. Winchester was picking up on the rise in emotion and Durrant was probably so far out of touch with human emotion that the feedback from the connection was rattling his view of the world.
The trickle of ambient emotion from the expedition was new enough to Taylor that he’d acknowledge little, if any, control over it. The odd wave of fear or worry was disconcerting, but hardly an issue. Hughes seemed ok. And judging by the steady beat of derision and laconic disdain coming from the black glad SGC officer on his knees, they were not in any immediate danger. Maybe he should walk over and reassure Augusto, give him unfair insight into the situation.
Glancing at Durrant, who was bristling at his approach pissed off that his hovering had been spoiled, Taylor elected to deal with him first, before assisting Augusto. Closing the distance between them, Taylor smiled stiffly, keeping his emotional feedback minimal and locked down, or at least he hoped he was. Durrant was trying to do the same, and failing.
“Why are you hovering like a preschooler in need of a pee, Durrant?”
“What’s it to you if I am?” Arrogance underscored by real fear.
“You’re disturbing Winchester.”
Durrant sneered, “So what if I am, it’s not like he’s....”
“Exhausted? Stressed? Under duress?”
On the surface, Durrant remained unmoved, but there was a sliver of shame he couldn’t quite curtail. “So? Like you care.”
Taylor smiled, trying out a little projection, seeing if he could manipulate emotion to a degree, ”I do. The circumstances might not be ideal for a meaningful connection but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”
Instinctively Durrant batted the attempt away, his sneer deepening into hate, “Pull the other one, Taylor. You’re practically salivating over the chance at having your very own Empath, screw his feelings. You forget, I can feel you too.”
Abandoning his efforts, dropping the pretence, for now, Taylor jabbed at Durrant knocking him back a few steps. “Then stay the hell away from him.”
“He’s not yours! Not yet!”
The ‘not ever’ was implied body and soul from Durrant but he was smart enough to back off, to stop worrying the chain, and save his challenge for another time. They both felt Dean slip into a deeper sleep, as their combined truce shielded him from the ambient emotion and their own quarrel.
Hughes was watching them from his spot on the soft grass, more curious than anything. If it came to a show down, he remained an unknown. It was entirely possible that he would side with whoever was likely to allow him a share of the connection or to strike when they were both weak, and throw his hand in to keep Dean for himself.
Durrant smiled sweetly at Taylor and ambled off, heading towards Hughes, not bothering to mask his intention. Taylor though kept his emotions in check, confident in his ability to win the prize. He shot a quick look in at Dean, and resisted the urge to go in. Instead, he deliberately ignored Durrant who was now teasing Hughes, knocking the makeshift mobile out of kilter, and made his way over to Augusto whose anxiety was climbing.
Miles was sweating, both due to the heat and the situation. The arrival of an SGC team was troublesome, especially as this world was supposed to be off limits. The big question was why, why were they here? But the important question was how long until they were missed. Nikolai, the brute, was enjoying the interrogation, his delight at striking an officer over and over again visible for even a non Empath to see. The big mercenary had issues with authority, which was why his military career had ended in dishonourable discharge and his dislike of Military Brass monumental. His loyalty to Augusto was paid for in money and the opportunity to stick it to the Man - with his fist.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Augusto whirled on him, upset at the interruption and implied slight on his control of the situation, and Nikolai frowned, his fist bloody. The SGC Officer was looking a little lopsided, favouring his side closest to Nikolai, the left side of his face a mess, blood trailing down his chin.
Mouth open, a tangible tone of ire emanating from him, Miles stared at Taylor and abruptly his demeanour changed. Taylor smirked, as Miles ‘caught on’ and some of his anxiety dropped. “Perhaps you can.”
The SGC man peered at Taylor through one eye, careful and considering. Taylor nudged him gently, making him wobble a bit and watched for the usual reaction, and although surprised at the invisible nudge, the man didn’t really react. Miles grinned and said loudly, “Let’s try again, Colonel. Why are you here?”
The Colonel’s gaze did not move from Taylor, a deeply considering gaze, as he said, “We felt like a walk.”
Nikolai was swift and efficient and the spray of blood reached the two other restrained SGC personnel, dotting their skin and clothes. Spitting out a long bloody trail, the Colonel rolled his eye, and said, “Still with excellent motivational techniques. Real winner.”
Augusto shot a look at Taylor before saying, “How long before you are due back, Colonel?”
“3 hours ago.”
Miles stayed Nikolai, who pouted, and looked at Taylor. New to reading emotion, aware that what he was feeling was paltry compared to an Empath’s level, but reluctant to lose face, Taylor tilted his head and said, “It’s difficult to say. He’s pretty laid back. Not really stressed. But perhaps you’d have better luck from his companions. They’re both awake.”
The spike of fear from the Colonel was brief, swallowed by the rising wave of anxiety from the balding man on the ground, whose eyes were still firmly closed. Before Nikolai could move, Taylor lifted the man and woman up onto their knees, both abandoning their pretence at unconsciousness. The woman was a strange pool of quiet, next to the rising torrent of emotion from the man next to her. Wondering how he had missed that maelstrom of emotion earlier, Taylor said slyly to Miles, “I think you’ll have better luck with Mr Science over there.”
Miles was oozing delight, malicious pleasure, looking more at the Colonel than the spluttering scientist. To his credit, the scientist was trying to control his fear, putting on not just a brave face but also holding onto his emotions. It was difficult to pick out individual emotions from him, the shifting tides of determined calm and terror disorienting for Taylor.
“Well, Colonel. Perhaps my associate is correct, perhaps Dr McKay will be more forthcoming.”
The spike of deadly resolve was unexpected, as the Colonel drawled, “Again, how is it that you know who we are? You got cheat sheets lying around somewhere?”
Neither Taylor or Miles stopped Nikolai this time, and his kick sent the Colonel forward onto his knees, groaning. Taylor got a glimpse of bound hands and red skin, and had a flash of memory, an image of Dean’s hands fisted in handcuffs, swirling anger coursing through him and a desperate need to get away. Blinking at the rush of memory, Taylor stepped back, shaking his head, tasting blood. “Taylor?”
Waving Augusto aside, Taylor stood up firm, wiped his nose and nodded. Looking concerned, Miles took a moment, before turning to the SGC people and said, “How long until you are missed, Dr McKay?”
McKay radiated terrified bravado, “3 hours ago.”
“He’s lying,” Taylor supplied but you didn’t need an Empath to pick that up. Nikolai, ever poised for action moved swiftly, but Taylor was still feeling a little shaken by his slip, so he stopped Nikolai with a firm yank on his vest. Reaching out, Taylor grabbed McKay by the throat and smiled, “Being a geek, I assume you are a fan of Star Wars, Dr McKay. Ever wondered what this felt like?”
Clutching at his throat, fighting the invisible fingers, his own bright red from the effort and the plastic tie around his hands, McKay shook his head furiously, gasping. The woman was staring at McKay and Taylor, her centre of calm unmoved but her expression deeply troubled, worried as McKay turned red.
“Stop. I will tell you.”
Taylor held on for a moment more, before letting go. McKay gasped loudly, dragging in shuddering breathes. Miles smiled beatifically at the woman, “Well, Miss Emmagen? How long?”
Watching McKay shake his head, the Colonel still slumped over his aching side, the woman, Emmagen turned to Miles stiffly, “Dr McKay wished to run a diagnostic on the shield. We are due back in an hour.”
Everyone looked at Taylor and he felt a jab of irritation. He snapped, “I can’t tell. She’s... weirdly calm.”
But perhaps Miles wanted to believe no matter what, because he smiled, “Close enough. If it’s an hour, then it’ll be 3 before they try dial in and 5 before a rescue squad is sent. And if it’s longer ... all the better.”
Only McKay radiated deep unease but his swirl of emotion was difficult to isolate on a cause. Nikolai though reeked of disappointment, and desire to keep on hitting. Augusto preened a little and bounced on his heels, “The better question is now, do we kill you or keep you as collateral?”
McKay’s head snapped up and he gasped, “Kill us? What? Why?”
“Secret mission, Dr McKay. And you’re supposed to be a genius.”
The Colonel laughed though, a wet sound, “Relax, McKay. They’re not going to kill us.” He sat up, careful of his ribs, his only open eye glaring at Augusto, “When you are a long way from home, you don’t kill potential hostages.”
Miles smirked, “Perhaps, Colonel, perhaps. But we don’t need all of you.”
“And there’s the other one, the big hairy one,” Nikolai grunted, nudging the Colonel with his foot. Miles shrugged, “We’ve got the Gate covered, he’s not going anywhere.”
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Rodney was just about to launch a scathing retort in response to the genius crack, when a spindly young man with bulging eyes ran forward. He was followed by another man, who may have been considered handsome had McKay the inclination to note that. But since he didn’t, Rodney scowled at the interruption then realised it might stand in their favour if their captors were distracted.
Shutting his mouth with a snap, McKay shot a glance at Sheppard, the sharp ache in his stomach growing as he took in the state of his face. John quirked a Kirk-like eyebrow of ‘What can you do?’ to which both Rodney and Teyla rolled their eyes. At least McKay had support for his ‘John Sheppard is a self sacrificing masochist’ theory in Teyla.
“Sir, if this is Dr McKay, then perhaps he can assist us?”
If? If? Perhaps he could assist? As if there was any doubt as to his identity and prowess in the fields of scientific endeavour... Oh wait, perhaps his renowned prowess wasn’t going to be a good thing. Schooling his face, Rodney tried on his most disdainful expression and resolved to be of no assistance whatsoever. Ronon, the great lummox, needed as much time as possible to get help.
The short guy in charge seemed annoyed at the interruption, but it was the cold eyed Kinetic that really worried Rodney. His Darth Vader impression was far too realistic. And his gaze had not shifted off them. “What? Why?”
The googly eyed kid stammered, nervously clutching a tablet similar the ones the SGC gave out, “Uhm, well, we weren’t expecting, exactly, an Ancient device. This world was supposed to be... non Ancient.” Unable to prevent his interest being peaked, Rodney sat up, or knelt up a little straighter at the mention of an Ancient device. It must have been behind the door.
The taller, more smooth, scientist clarified, “There is a shield, Mr Augusto, as suspected. It however is an Ancient shield.”
Hah! Zelenka owed him a week of deserts! That energy signature had been so familiar it had to be Ancient in origin.
Mr Augusto glared, perhaps at the use of his name or the inconvenient news. “And? Surely you can handle a simple Ancient shield?”
Skinny nodded, and Handsome smiled. “Yes, yes, sir. We can... er could... but the translation algorithm is providing... er... confusing or rather conflicting readings?”
Hah! Double Hah! They were probably using a stolen version of Bill Lee’s ridiculous mock up of Atlantis’s algorithm. When you had Daniel Jackson, apparently the SGC didn’t need coherent translations from a machine!
Augusto glared, and as Rodney had learnt through sad experience, that did little to change disappointing results from hapless minions other than the satisfaction of making them squirm. However, no matter how much Teyla’s deception might lead them to think that they had time, they didn’t really, so the little man shot back, “Fine. Take him. Nikolai, get Jones and bring Sheppard and Ms Emmagan along as well - for incentive.”
Taylor was the one however to drag Rodney to his feet, and it was a truly disturbing feeling of being manhandled by invisible hands, and frog marched towards scientific discovery. “Hey, watch the ... whatever. No need to shove.”
To be honest, Rodney was delighted at the prospect of seeing what was inside the building, and didn’t need all that much ‘dragging’. The onerous metal door lay off to one side, and the inner depths of the building were in darkness, none of the ambient daylight penetrating.
As Rodney, and probably Sheppard approached a few lights inside the dome activated. A panel that looked out of place with the general décor and style of the building was stuck on the inside wall and it too lit up at their approach.
Definitely Ancient.
Rodney reached the panel and tapped a menu button. Nothing else though in the large structure responded, the cheery blue glow of Ancient ‘camp lamps’ providing the only light. There was a faint buzz though and with the lights inside the room, the faint sheen of a barrier could be seen. The shield encompassed the whole room, not just the doorway and that was fairly easy to determine both from the Ancient Panel and visually.
But he said it anyway, if only to validate his superiority over the Trust Scientists. “The shield is covering the whole structure, not just keeping us out but probably something in.”
Goggly Eyes pressed into Rodney to peer at the panel as McKay tapped on the various menus and read through the various specifications and information dumps. Handsome hung back near Augusto, looking a little nervous. Knowing he was going too fast for the kid, let alone a faulty algorithm on his tablet, McKay couldn’t help preening to himself. But as the information flying past began to sink in, he slowed down and concentrated, feeling a growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.
“Holy Crap!”
The kid, who probably should have stuck out whatever grad programme they had grabbed him out of, shoved McKay aside enough to read himself. Augusto snapped sharply, “What, Dr McKay?” Straightening, flexing his fingers because damn the plastic tie was tight and made manipulating anything tough, Rodney put on his ‘serious news’ face, the one reversed for ‘disappointing but what can you do’ information.
“This building is a research lab. Weapons research lab.” Belatedly, Rodney realised he maybe should have left the ‘weapons’ part out as Augusto and the Kinetic’s expressions were … worrying. Pressing on, now certain he’d have to lay on the warnings thick and fast, McKay snapped, “The Ancients found this world as we did.” Emphasis on the ‘we’ not ‘you’, Rodney added silently.
“But the accident that had caused this - total destruction of life was still active. The entire planet was covered in an unknown radiation and they had to use shields and protective suits to trace it to here.”
“And then they placed this shield over the source and left!” The kid was beaming, pointing at the panel, as if to say ‘see I can read too’.
Waving that aside, Rodney nodded, “They waited a few years… probably thousands, before coming back and finally getting around to study what had happened. By then the plant life had really got out of control, recovered remarkably, but otherwise… it remained a dead world.“
The invisible jab was hard, and Rodney let out a surprised grunt. “This isn’t story time, Doctor. Speed it up.” The Kinetic was looking… well, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking other than mass dismemberment, so McKay nodded.
“The people of this world were apparently working on a weapon that used targeted radiation. Who they were fighting and why and what not is probably in there but in the spirit of ‘moving along’ and avoiding bruises,” Rodney shot a pointed look at no one in particular. “And then Chernobyl. On a global scale.”
“An accident? That wiped out the entire planet?” Augusto drawled.
“Yes.”
“And it killed everyone instantly?” the little bald man was looking too excited for Rodney’s comfort but the answer was hardly pleasant either way.
“Pretty much. Not slow radiation sickness or a blast wave…”
The kid interrupted, “More like fatal exposure fast tracked, sir.”
Risking a quick look at Sheppard and Teyla, Rodney let the kid continue. Sheppard was kneeling stiffly a good distance away, with Teyla beside him. They could probably hear everything and their oversized guards were certainly paying more attention to the conversation than their prisoners. But John’s head shake was minute. Not the time. Let it play out. Give Ronon as long as possible. McKay blinked, certain John would get it.
“So how do we take the shield down?”
Whirling, wincing at the pull of a bruise, Rodney squeaked, “Say what now?”
Augusto was looking at the young scientist and his colleague, both of whom looked as stunned as Rodney felt.
“Down, sir? Why?”
Placing his hands behind his back, radiating pompous authority, the egg head purred, “We are here to explore, gentlemen and locate items, devices and technology that can protect Earth. We need this weapon technology.”
Naturally Rodney was first off the mark, “Are you completely insane? It wiped out an entire planet… in seconds!”
Augusto smiled, delighted at the information, “Seconds? Fascinating, Dr McKay.”
Still beating the moronic scientists who agreed to work for twisted and evil organisations, McKay yelled, “An entire planet! The Ancients couldn’t figure out how to turn the damn thing off and you want us to just lower the shied…. And die? You unmitigated ignorant moron!”
The unseen shove was hard and Augusto’s smile sharp, “I urge you to remember your situation, Dr McKay?”
“What, about to die? Yes, I well aware of that and frankly, I’d prefer a bullet to death by unknown radiation!”
Handsome, ‘I probably slept my way through grad school’ said slowly, “Sir, Mr Augusto, we have no way of knowing if the radiation is still being emitted, and …”
“How long has it been since the accident?”
Ignoring the cool disturbing stare of Taylor, Rodney stepped forward and waved his bound hands, “A million years or more but that is not the point! Without knowing the nature of the radiation and if the device is still on…unlikely, yes perhaps, but the risk of exposure goes through the roof the moment you even think of tampering with the shield!”
The sensation of moving, solid air at his throat, a slight pressure, had Rodney trailing off. Augusto, oblivious, mused quietly, “Then, perhaps you and Drs Messer and Russo had better get cracking and figure out all those questions.”
McKay gulped, nodded and walked over to the two idiots now pounding on the panel looking for answers. He very deliberately did not look at the Kinetic’s smug smile.
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As amusing as it was tormenting Dr Rodney McKay, Taylor soon grew bored as the minutes ticked by, the scientists huddled together, Miles strutting around and the other prisoners waiting patiently. He could feel Durrant and Hughes behind him, and they seemed… amused by something.
Augusto, ever the pragmatist had ordered the camp struck. Even if they had hours before the SGC sent a rescue team, they had best be ready to run. Those soldiers not out looking for the lone SGC man were helping take down tents, whilst annoyed scientists packed away equipment.
And as interesting as it was watching three scientists argue over data older than the human race, Taylor tapped Augusto’s arm and said quietly, “I’ll be right back.”
Miles’s nod was firm, worried, the tell tale emotion seeping out of him. Taylor slipped away, making a beeline for Winchester’s tent. Stiff beige tent material flapped as he entered the dim but stuffy confines of the tent. Winchester was awake, staring at the soft wall opposite.
“Sleep well?”
Dean didn’t even bother turning to face him, but Taylor moved forward with purpose, talking swiftly, “We’ve hit a little snafu, so we’re bugging out in the next few hours. I’m sure you’d appreciate a chance to stretch your legs... if you behave.”
It was odd reading Dean now. Before, with his empathic field blown wide open you could feel whatever he was feeling, anger, fear, hate, despair, whatever. But now that they had a semblance of a connection it was muted, swallowed in feedback from Durrant and Hughes, and himself. So, if Dean was keen for a chance to walk about, it was difficult to tell.
Dropping to his knees, running his tongue over his lips, Taylor fingered the buckle on the medical restraint and said, “So?”
Dean didn’t react, didn’t turn, and continued to ignore him. Fighting a surge of irritation, Taylor began to unbuckle the strap, battling the surge of mixed emotions from the two idiots outside. “Playing mute is childish, Dean. The trip out was pretty rough, and don’t think the one back is going to be any better. You’d do well to be a little more... accommodating.”
The explosion of movement took Taylor completely by surprise. Dean launched himself up off the camp bed, both hands free and Taylor saw stars and fell backwards as two, three heavy punches landed, head and stomach. A fourth slammed into his solar plexus and he went all the way down, butt connecting hard with the ground.
Shaken, head spinning and unable to breath, Taylor struggled to gather enough kinesis to fight back, but the fifth KO hit right into his groin stopped any thought period as he howled and clutched himself.
“Shit, shit, stupid frigging thing!”
Taylor was only vaguely aware of Durrant’s arrival, but he felt the surge through the connection, as Durrant tackled Winchester going for physical first, even as he rocked in misery, trying not to moan. Physically Winchester and Durrant were evenly matched, even if Durrant was bulkier. But a Kinetic didn’t have just two hands in a fight, he had as many as he could imagine.
Dean hadn’t managed to get his ankle loose from the cuff in time and between that, and Durrant’s ‘extra’ hands the scuffle should have been short lived. But when the camp bed fell on top of Taylor and a stray boot clipped his chin, he couldn’t help the growl of pain as he tried to move away.
Winchester was on Durrant’s back, a thick arm wrapped around his neck, one free leg hooked around his waist, trying to choke him out. Durrant was whaling on him kinetically, the blows not as heavy as real fists but still punishing, trying to dislodge the Empath. It was a race, unconsciousness vs. endurance. Taylor tried to summon enough kinetic pull to pile in but the pain between his legs was too distracting.
And perhaps if there had only been two Kinetics Winchester might have won the round. But he was in the middle of a camp of enemies, a billion light years from home and there was Hughes. Maybe the weakest, definitely the laziest, Hughes just walked in, took the brawl in and did what came easiest. He pulled on the chain connecting them all, shook it a lot and Dean screamed, falling off Durrant’s back, clutching his head.
Taylor swallowed a wave of nausea, and Durrant gagged, groaning in pain. Hughes waved off a pair of concerned soldiers, who had run over. Humming to himself, Hughes stepped over Durrant, absently wiping his own bloody nose and snapped a pair of handcuffs on Dean, bandaged wrists pulled behind his back.
Winchester was throwing up, again, but it was just long streams of bile and spit, his misery flooding through them, adding to their own collective woes. “Dudes, you suck. All of you. Way to ruin the buzz.”
Standing, wheezing a little, Durrant lurched forward and drew back his foot to kick Winchester. Channelling his anger, Taylor threw him back, so that he crashed into the small table that had survived everything else and he snarled, “Stay away from him!”
Hughes waved his hands and said cheerfully, “Calm down guys, no need to get worked up. Just ... chill.”
Nikolai stuck his head and then his large, aggressive frame inside the tent and sneered, “If you pansies are done rolling around, Miles wants you.”
Durrant and Taylor both stepped forward to get Dean, and glared at each other, a crackle of energy between them. Rolling his eyes, Hughes hauled Winchester upright, steadying him as did. “Come on, guys. Grow up.”
The little party at the dome hadn’t changed materially, albeit Miles looked even more excited and Mckay was looking livid. “Everything alright, gentlemen?”
Hughes nodded, and Durrant scowled, but it was only when Taylor waved an ‘okay’, that Miles pushed forward. “Excellent, we have a solution and require your assistance.”
Suddenly sidetracked by the fresh blood, and the sagging Empath between them, Miles blinked slowly and Taylor snapped, “What, Augusto?”
Turning, Miles waved at the collected Doctors and said brightly, “They have identified the device emitting the shield, it’s that odd bulbous thing on the far left. Fortunately it has a control that allows you to shrink or grow the shield. Its amazing what you can find out from useless panels with the right incentive.”
Dr McKay was a glowering, furious mess, and the Colonel had several new bruises. Durrant and Hughes were staring up the dome, studying the lit entire. Hughes let Winchester sink to his knees, patting him on the head.
Augusto was fit to burst with glee as he said, “I want you to shrink the shield so that we can get inside the dome.”
“And not die from the radiation?” Taylor quipped, fingering the red mark on his chin, and then rubbing his aching chest.
Dr ‘Handsome’ Russo piped up, “We are going to set up a secondary shield just in case, but you should be able to lift items out so that we can test them, right?”
“Just glorified forklifts, huh? Why else drag us halfway across the Galaxy,” Durrant glowered, sounding hoarse.
“This is still a terrible idea, we have no idea what sort of latent radiation...” McKay shouted, pointing at the shielded room, gesturing manically.
“Secondary shield, Dr McKay! And containment boxes, we aren’t amateurs,” Augusto snapped, annoyance colouring his excitement.
McKay’s snort was less convinced than his eye roll.
Straightening, still smarting from Dean’s blow, Taylor cleared his throat, “Fine, let’s see if we can manipulate the damn thing through the shield while we wait. Follow my lead, gentlemen.” This was directed at Hughes and Durrant.
Hughes nodded, hand hovering near Winchester’s head, but Durrant’s eyes narrowed and he snarled, “No, screw you being in charge. Winchester just about had you on the ropes back there!”
Drawing the gaze of everyone in the immediate vicinity, Durrant’s volume and spike of anger was impossible to ignore. Taylor stepped into Durant’s personal space, jabbing a finger at him, “I would have got it under control!”
“Gentlemen!” Augusto tried to interject, but he made no move towards them, the air crackling around the pair.
“Between that massive ego and obsession, you refuse to see that he’s just playing us, acting all pathetic and weak. He needs to be smacked down, put in his place!” Durrant screamed, spittle flying everywhere.
“Try it and I will kill you!”
Hughes, looking pale gasped quietly, “Dudes, I’m not feeling too good.”
From over in the corner, leaning against the panel, projecting bored calm but terrified, McKay muttered, “Oh, we are so going to die.”
Backing off, looking to see where Nikolai had gone to, Augusto yelled, “Taylor, Durrant! Enough.”
It didn’t take long for the fight to get ‘mental’ and Durrant pushed at the same time as Taylor and the air snapped between them. “Son of a ...”
“Guys, I still feel kinda.... light headed,” Hughes mumbled, staggering several steps away. Miles flapped his hands and shouted, “Stop! Everyone just stop!” But Taylor and Durrant were nose to nose, screaming at each other. Rodney backed the scientists up, and was waving at the panel, mouthing something.
Hughes stared at his red hands, and wiped ineffectually at his streaming nose. “Guys?”
Getting paler and paler, he wobbled, coughed a spray of blood. “Guys...”
And collapsed, face first.
No one even noticed, the shouting Kinetics the centre of attention.
Except Dean.
*
TBC in Part 4
Ugh, I hate talking heads and exposition. Ugh. So tempted to post chapter 4 early, really really tempted. But 5 is a distant goal. Damn.
Author: Tari_Roo
Chapter 3
The grass of Catastrophe was oddly spongy and soft, still green and grass like but not the usual. So it made for nice padding for his knees as he knelt in the bright sunlight from two small suns. The small balding man had taken one look at Sheppard towering over him and motioned for the mercenary.
A stiff jab at his legs and Sheppard had obliged by dropping to his knees, swallowing the groan as he did so.
“Colonel Sheppard. What are you doing here?”
Sheppard smiled, squinting a little in the overhead sunlight. “Now that’s hardly fair. You know my name and I don’t know yours.”
The little man smiled in return and wiped his brow, mopping up a few beads of sweat. “What’s fair got to do with anything. My prisoner, my questions. What are you doing here?”
John shook his head, “No, really the much more pressing question is, what in the hell are you doing here?”
The mercenary behind him shoved the muzzle of his AK into John’s back and the little guy laughed, ”I won’t ask again, Colonel.”
A stiff little breeze stirred the long grass, the cloudless sky an unrelenting blue. Ignoring the muzzle digging into his shoulder Sheppard persisted, “I’m serious. We are supposed to be here.... this being Pegasus and all. You, not so much.”
The punch was swift and brutal, right on his jaw and its growing collection of bruises and John fell forward a little, before catching himself. Moving his jaw, hoping a tooth hadn’t been knocked loose and wincing at the collective ache, Sheppard snapped up at the mercenary, “Nice one. Makes talking all the more easier.“
“What are you doing here, or should I start on your friends?” The little guy was scanning the area, not really looking at John, or the unconscious forms of Teyla and Rodney at his feet. The City had been quiet, abandoned stillness. The camp though was bustle in motion and discordant with the normal atmosphere of Catastrophe, all the markers of an invasion.
“We’re doing our job, moron. Exploring Pegasus.”
Hmmming to himself, pulling out his little handkerchief again, the man mused, “This world was cleared already, closed, finished, done with. No more visits.”
“Oh yeah, and how do you know that?” John asked, peering up at the man, feeling a trickle of sweat seep down his back. The next punch was twice as hard and John bit his tongue with the force of it. Spitting out blood, really, really tired of being in this position for the umpteenth time, he sighed, “No really, how do you know this world is ‘closed’? Because I sure as hell didn’t ‘close’ it.”
The third punch was a little off, as Sheppard caught the movement in time and managed to pull back so it glanced more than hit but still the left side of his face was screaming at him, a headache blossoming. Between the questioning out in the city and now, he was going to a walking bruise. The mercenary snarled and was about to hit him again, when the little man held up his hand.
Obedient, the mercenary glared menacingly at Sheppard but living with Ronon and facing off with Wraith kinda made any other attempts at looking scary laughable, so Sheppard rolled his eyes.
“Alright, Colonel. Different question then. Where is Ronon?”
“Who?”
The next punch spilt his lip.
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Taylor shoved on a pair of sunglasses as he stepped out of the tent he was sharing with Durrant and Hughes. It was a little cramped even if the tent was a luxury, old style safari type, with a high roof and head height door, but since none of them could agree as to who would share a tent with Dean first, let alone any roster system thereafter, all three Kinetics were in one tent and Dean got his own. And it was probably for the best anyway to give their little Empath some space and private time.
Dean was asleep, his slumber restless and light and as Taylor looked over at the canvas tent, he could see why. Durrant was hovering near the open doorway, peering in but not yet brave enough to venture inside. His agitation though was enough to disturb the Empath and alert the other Kinetics.
Well, Taylor at least.
Hughes was on his back, staring up at the suns, absently wiping his still bleeding nose. He was levitating a smattering of objects in the air. Keys, stones, leaves, a bullet and they all moved in a swirl of concentric intersecting circles. It looked, peaceful.
Durrant though was far from peaceful, his agitation clear both physically and mentally. Shoving his hands into his pockets, Taylor strolled towards Durrant, running a careful eye on his surroundings. He’d heard and felt the rise in emotion in the camp. Augusto was a hotspot of anxiety and the mercenaries and scientists were all projecting increased nerves and worry.
Actually, perhaps that was why both Dean and Durrant were restless. Winchester was picking up on the rise in emotion and Durrant was probably so far out of touch with human emotion that the feedback from the connection was rattling his view of the world.
The trickle of ambient emotion from the expedition was new enough to Taylor that he’d acknowledge little, if any, control over it. The odd wave of fear or worry was disconcerting, but hardly an issue. Hughes seemed ok. And judging by the steady beat of derision and laconic disdain coming from the black glad SGC officer on his knees, they were not in any immediate danger. Maybe he should walk over and reassure Augusto, give him unfair insight into the situation.
Glancing at Durrant, who was bristling at his approach pissed off that his hovering had been spoiled, Taylor elected to deal with him first, before assisting Augusto. Closing the distance between them, Taylor smiled stiffly, keeping his emotional feedback minimal and locked down, or at least he hoped he was. Durrant was trying to do the same, and failing.
“Why are you hovering like a preschooler in need of a pee, Durrant?”
“What’s it to you if I am?” Arrogance underscored by real fear.
“You’re disturbing Winchester.”
Durrant sneered, “So what if I am, it’s not like he’s....”
“Exhausted? Stressed? Under duress?”
On the surface, Durrant remained unmoved, but there was a sliver of shame he couldn’t quite curtail. “So? Like you care.”
Taylor smiled, trying out a little projection, seeing if he could manipulate emotion to a degree, ”I do. The circumstances might not be ideal for a meaningful connection but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have feelings.”
Instinctively Durrant batted the attempt away, his sneer deepening into hate, “Pull the other one, Taylor. You’re practically salivating over the chance at having your very own Empath, screw his feelings. You forget, I can feel you too.”
Abandoning his efforts, dropping the pretence, for now, Taylor jabbed at Durrant knocking him back a few steps. “Then stay the hell away from him.”
“He’s not yours! Not yet!”
The ‘not ever’ was implied body and soul from Durrant but he was smart enough to back off, to stop worrying the chain, and save his challenge for another time. They both felt Dean slip into a deeper sleep, as their combined truce shielded him from the ambient emotion and their own quarrel.
Hughes was watching them from his spot on the soft grass, more curious than anything. If it came to a show down, he remained an unknown. It was entirely possible that he would side with whoever was likely to allow him a share of the connection or to strike when they were both weak, and throw his hand in to keep Dean for himself.
Durrant smiled sweetly at Taylor and ambled off, heading towards Hughes, not bothering to mask his intention. Taylor though kept his emotions in check, confident in his ability to win the prize. He shot a quick look in at Dean, and resisted the urge to go in. Instead, he deliberately ignored Durrant who was now teasing Hughes, knocking the makeshift mobile out of kilter, and made his way over to Augusto whose anxiety was climbing.
Miles was sweating, both due to the heat and the situation. The arrival of an SGC team was troublesome, especially as this world was supposed to be off limits. The big question was why, why were they here? But the important question was how long until they were missed. Nikolai, the brute, was enjoying the interrogation, his delight at striking an officer over and over again visible for even a non Empath to see. The big mercenary had issues with authority, which was why his military career had ended in dishonourable discharge and his dislike of Military Brass monumental. His loyalty to Augusto was paid for in money and the opportunity to stick it to the Man - with his fist.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Augusto whirled on him, upset at the interruption and implied slight on his control of the situation, and Nikolai frowned, his fist bloody. The SGC Officer was looking a little lopsided, favouring his side closest to Nikolai, the left side of his face a mess, blood trailing down his chin.
Mouth open, a tangible tone of ire emanating from him, Miles stared at Taylor and abruptly his demeanour changed. Taylor smirked, as Miles ‘caught on’ and some of his anxiety dropped. “Perhaps you can.”
The SGC man peered at Taylor through one eye, careful and considering. Taylor nudged him gently, making him wobble a bit and watched for the usual reaction, and although surprised at the invisible nudge, the man didn’t really react. Miles grinned and said loudly, “Let’s try again, Colonel. Why are you here?”
The Colonel’s gaze did not move from Taylor, a deeply considering gaze, as he said, “We felt like a walk.”
Nikolai was swift and efficient and the spray of blood reached the two other restrained SGC personnel, dotting their skin and clothes. Spitting out a long bloody trail, the Colonel rolled his eye, and said, “Still with excellent motivational techniques. Real winner.”
Augusto shot a look at Taylor before saying, “How long before you are due back, Colonel?”
“3 hours ago.”
Miles stayed Nikolai, who pouted, and looked at Taylor. New to reading emotion, aware that what he was feeling was paltry compared to an Empath’s level, but reluctant to lose face, Taylor tilted his head and said, “It’s difficult to say. He’s pretty laid back. Not really stressed. But perhaps you’d have better luck from his companions. They’re both awake.”
The spike of fear from the Colonel was brief, swallowed by the rising wave of anxiety from the balding man on the ground, whose eyes were still firmly closed. Before Nikolai could move, Taylor lifted the man and woman up onto their knees, both abandoning their pretence at unconsciousness. The woman was a strange pool of quiet, next to the rising torrent of emotion from the man next to her. Wondering how he had missed that maelstrom of emotion earlier, Taylor said slyly to Miles, “I think you’ll have better luck with Mr Science over there.”
Miles was oozing delight, malicious pleasure, looking more at the Colonel than the spluttering scientist. To his credit, the scientist was trying to control his fear, putting on not just a brave face but also holding onto his emotions. It was difficult to pick out individual emotions from him, the shifting tides of determined calm and terror disorienting for Taylor.
“Well, Colonel. Perhaps my associate is correct, perhaps Dr McKay will be more forthcoming.”
The spike of deadly resolve was unexpected, as the Colonel drawled, “Again, how is it that you know who we are? You got cheat sheets lying around somewhere?”
Neither Taylor or Miles stopped Nikolai this time, and his kick sent the Colonel forward onto his knees, groaning. Taylor got a glimpse of bound hands and red skin, and had a flash of memory, an image of Dean’s hands fisted in handcuffs, swirling anger coursing through him and a desperate need to get away. Blinking at the rush of memory, Taylor stepped back, shaking his head, tasting blood. “Taylor?”
Waving Augusto aside, Taylor stood up firm, wiped his nose and nodded. Looking concerned, Miles took a moment, before turning to the SGC people and said, “How long until you are missed, Dr McKay?”
McKay radiated terrified bravado, “3 hours ago.”
“He’s lying,” Taylor supplied but you didn’t need an Empath to pick that up. Nikolai, ever poised for action moved swiftly, but Taylor was still feeling a little shaken by his slip, so he stopped Nikolai with a firm yank on his vest. Reaching out, Taylor grabbed McKay by the throat and smiled, “Being a geek, I assume you are a fan of Star Wars, Dr McKay. Ever wondered what this felt like?”
Clutching at his throat, fighting the invisible fingers, his own bright red from the effort and the plastic tie around his hands, McKay shook his head furiously, gasping. The woman was staring at McKay and Taylor, her centre of calm unmoved but her expression deeply troubled, worried as McKay turned red.
“Stop. I will tell you.”
Taylor held on for a moment more, before letting go. McKay gasped loudly, dragging in shuddering breathes. Miles smiled beatifically at the woman, “Well, Miss Emmagen? How long?”
Watching McKay shake his head, the Colonel still slumped over his aching side, the woman, Emmagen turned to Miles stiffly, “Dr McKay wished to run a diagnostic on the shield. We are due back in an hour.”
Everyone looked at Taylor and he felt a jab of irritation. He snapped, “I can’t tell. She’s... weirdly calm.”
But perhaps Miles wanted to believe no matter what, because he smiled, “Close enough. If it’s an hour, then it’ll be 3 before they try dial in and 5 before a rescue squad is sent. And if it’s longer ... all the better.”
Only McKay radiated deep unease but his swirl of emotion was difficult to isolate on a cause. Nikolai though reeked of disappointment, and desire to keep on hitting. Augusto preened a little and bounced on his heels, “The better question is now, do we kill you or keep you as collateral?”
McKay’s head snapped up and he gasped, “Kill us? What? Why?”
“Secret mission, Dr McKay. And you’re supposed to be a genius.”
The Colonel laughed though, a wet sound, “Relax, McKay. They’re not going to kill us.” He sat up, careful of his ribs, his only open eye glaring at Augusto, “When you are a long way from home, you don’t kill potential hostages.”
Miles smirked, “Perhaps, Colonel, perhaps. But we don’t need all of you.”
“And there’s the other one, the big hairy one,” Nikolai grunted, nudging the Colonel with his foot. Miles shrugged, “We’ve got the Gate covered, he’s not going anywhere.”
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Rodney was just about to launch a scathing retort in response to the genius crack, when a spindly young man with bulging eyes ran forward. He was followed by another man, who may have been considered handsome had McKay the inclination to note that. But since he didn’t, Rodney scowled at the interruption then realised it might stand in their favour if their captors were distracted.
Shutting his mouth with a snap, McKay shot a glance at Sheppard, the sharp ache in his stomach growing as he took in the state of his face. John quirked a Kirk-like eyebrow of ‘What can you do?’ to which both Rodney and Teyla rolled their eyes. At least McKay had support for his ‘John Sheppard is a self sacrificing masochist’ theory in Teyla.
“Sir, if this is Dr McKay, then perhaps he can assist us?”
If? If? Perhaps he could assist? As if there was any doubt as to his identity and prowess in the fields of scientific endeavour... Oh wait, perhaps his renowned prowess wasn’t going to be a good thing. Schooling his face, Rodney tried on his most disdainful expression and resolved to be of no assistance whatsoever. Ronon, the great lummox, needed as much time as possible to get help.
The short guy in charge seemed annoyed at the interruption, but it was the cold eyed Kinetic that really worried Rodney. His Darth Vader impression was far too realistic. And his gaze had not shifted off them. “What? Why?”
The googly eyed kid stammered, nervously clutching a tablet similar the ones the SGC gave out, “Uhm, well, we weren’t expecting, exactly, an Ancient device. This world was supposed to be... non Ancient.” Unable to prevent his interest being peaked, Rodney sat up, or knelt up a little straighter at the mention of an Ancient device. It must have been behind the door.
The taller, more smooth, scientist clarified, “There is a shield, Mr Augusto, as suspected. It however is an Ancient shield.”
Hah! Zelenka owed him a week of deserts! That energy signature had been so familiar it had to be Ancient in origin.
Mr Augusto glared, perhaps at the use of his name or the inconvenient news. “And? Surely you can handle a simple Ancient shield?”
Skinny nodded, and Handsome smiled. “Yes, yes, sir. We can... er could... but the translation algorithm is providing... er... confusing or rather conflicting readings?”
Hah! Double Hah! They were probably using a stolen version of Bill Lee’s ridiculous mock up of Atlantis’s algorithm. When you had Daniel Jackson, apparently the SGC didn’t need coherent translations from a machine!
Augusto glared, and as Rodney had learnt through sad experience, that did little to change disappointing results from hapless minions other than the satisfaction of making them squirm. However, no matter how much Teyla’s deception might lead them to think that they had time, they didn’t really, so the little man shot back, “Fine. Take him. Nikolai, get Jones and bring Sheppard and Ms Emmagan along as well - for incentive.”
Taylor was the one however to drag Rodney to his feet, and it was a truly disturbing feeling of being manhandled by invisible hands, and frog marched towards scientific discovery. “Hey, watch the ... whatever. No need to shove.”
To be honest, Rodney was delighted at the prospect of seeing what was inside the building, and didn’t need all that much ‘dragging’. The onerous metal door lay off to one side, and the inner depths of the building were in darkness, none of the ambient daylight penetrating.
As Rodney, and probably Sheppard approached a few lights inside the dome activated. A panel that looked out of place with the general décor and style of the building was stuck on the inside wall and it too lit up at their approach.
Definitely Ancient.
Rodney reached the panel and tapped a menu button. Nothing else though in the large structure responded, the cheery blue glow of Ancient ‘camp lamps’ providing the only light. There was a faint buzz though and with the lights inside the room, the faint sheen of a barrier could be seen. The shield encompassed the whole room, not just the doorway and that was fairly easy to determine both from the Ancient Panel and visually.
But he said it anyway, if only to validate his superiority over the Trust Scientists. “The shield is covering the whole structure, not just keeping us out but probably something in.”
Goggly Eyes pressed into Rodney to peer at the panel as McKay tapped on the various menus and read through the various specifications and information dumps. Handsome hung back near Augusto, looking a little nervous. Knowing he was going too fast for the kid, let alone a faulty algorithm on his tablet, McKay couldn’t help preening to himself. But as the information flying past began to sink in, he slowed down and concentrated, feeling a growing sense of unease in the pit of his stomach.
“Holy Crap!”
The kid, who probably should have stuck out whatever grad programme they had grabbed him out of, shoved McKay aside enough to read himself. Augusto snapped sharply, “What, Dr McKay?” Straightening, flexing his fingers because damn the plastic tie was tight and made manipulating anything tough, Rodney put on his ‘serious news’ face, the one reversed for ‘disappointing but what can you do’ information.
“This building is a research lab. Weapons research lab.” Belatedly, Rodney realised he maybe should have left the ‘weapons’ part out as Augusto and the Kinetic’s expressions were … worrying. Pressing on, now certain he’d have to lay on the warnings thick and fast, McKay snapped, “The Ancients found this world as we did.” Emphasis on the ‘we’ not ‘you’, Rodney added silently.
“But the accident that had caused this - total destruction of life was still active. The entire planet was covered in an unknown radiation and they had to use shields and protective suits to trace it to here.”
“And then they placed this shield over the source and left!” The kid was beaming, pointing at the panel, as if to say ‘see I can read too’.
Waving that aside, Rodney nodded, “They waited a few years… probably thousands, before coming back and finally getting around to study what had happened. By then the plant life had really got out of control, recovered remarkably, but otherwise… it remained a dead world.“
The invisible jab was hard, and Rodney let out a surprised grunt. “This isn’t story time, Doctor. Speed it up.” The Kinetic was looking… well, it was difficult to tell what he was thinking other than mass dismemberment, so McKay nodded.
“The people of this world were apparently working on a weapon that used targeted radiation. Who they were fighting and why and what not is probably in there but in the spirit of ‘moving along’ and avoiding bruises,” Rodney shot a pointed look at no one in particular. “And then Chernobyl. On a global scale.”
“An accident? That wiped out the entire planet?” Augusto drawled.
“Yes.”
“And it killed everyone instantly?” the little bald man was looking too excited for Rodney’s comfort but the answer was hardly pleasant either way.
“Pretty much. Not slow radiation sickness or a blast wave…”
The kid interrupted, “More like fatal exposure fast tracked, sir.”
Risking a quick look at Sheppard and Teyla, Rodney let the kid continue. Sheppard was kneeling stiffly a good distance away, with Teyla beside him. They could probably hear everything and their oversized guards were certainly paying more attention to the conversation than their prisoners. But John’s head shake was minute. Not the time. Let it play out. Give Ronon as long as possible. McKay blinked, certain John would get it.
“So how do we take the shield down?”
Whirling, wincing at the pull of a bruise, Rodney squeaked, “Say what now?”
Augusto was looking at the young scientist and his colleague, both of whom looked as stunned as Rodney felt.
“Down, sir? Why?”
Placing his hands behind his back, radiating pompous authority, the egg head purred, “We are here to explore, gentlemen and locate items, devices and technology that can protect Earth. We need this weapon technology.”
Naturally Rodney was first off the mark, “Are you completely insane? It wiped out an entire planet… in seconds!”
Augusto smiled, delighted at the information, “Seconds? Fascinating, Dr McKay.”
Still beating the moronic scientists who agreed to work for twisted and evil organisations, McKay yelled, “An entire planet! The Ancients couldn’t figure out how to turn the damn thing off and you want us to just lower the shied…. And die? You unmitigated ignorant moron!”
The unseen shove was hard and Augusto’s smile sharp, “I urge you to remember your situation, Dr McKay?”
“What, about to die? Yes, I well aware of that and frankly, I’d prefer a bullet to death by unknown radiation!”
Handsome, ‘I probably slept my way through grad school’ said slowly, “Sir, Mr Augusto, we have no way of knowing if the radiation is still being emitted, and …”
“How long has it been since the accident?”
Ignoring the cool disturbing stare of Taylor, Rodney stepped forward and waved his bound hands, “A million years or more but that is not the point! Without knowing the nature of the radiation and if the device is still on…unlikely, yes perhaps, but the risk of exposure goes through the roof the moment you even think of tampering with the shield!”
The sensation of moving, solid air at his throat, a slight pressure, had Rodney trailing off. Augusto, oblivious, mused quietly, “Then, perhaps you and Drs Messer and Russo had better get cracking and figure out all those questions.”
McKay gulped, nodded and walked over to the two idiots now pounding on the panel looking for answers. He very deliberately did not look at the Kinetic’s smug smile.
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As amusing as it was tormenting Dr Rodney McKay, Taylor soon grew bored as the minutes ticked by, the scientists huddled together, Miles strutting around and the other prisoners waiting patiently. He could feel Durrant and Hughes behind him, and they seemed… amused by something.
Augusto, ever the pragmatist had ordered the camp struck. Even if they had hours before the SGC sent a rescue team, they had best be ready to run. Those soldiers not out looking for the lone SGC man were helping take down tents, whilst annoyed scientists packed away equipment.
And as interesting as it was watching three scientists argue over data older than the human race, Taylor tapped Augusto’s arm and said quietly, “I’ll be right back.”
Miles’s nod was firm, worried, the tell tale emotion seeping out of him. Taylor slipped away, making a beeline for Winchester’s tent. Stiff beige tent material flapped as he entered the dim but stuffy confines of the tent. Winchester was awake, staring at the soft wall opposite.
“Sleep well?”
Dean didn’t even bother turning to face him, but Taylor moved forward with purpose, talking swiftly, “We’ve hit a little snafu, so we’re bugging out in the next few hours. I’m sure you’d appreciate a chance to stretch your legs... if you behave.”
It was odd reading Dean now. Before, with his empathic field blown wide open you could feel whatever he was feeling, anger, fear, hate, despair, whatever. But now that they had a semblance of a connection it was muted, swallowed in feedback from Durrant and Hughes, and himself. So, if Dean was keen for a chance to walk about, it was difficult to tell.
Dropping to his knees, running his tongue over his lips, Taylor fingered the buckle on the medical restraint and said, “So?”
Dean didn’t react, didn’t turn, and continued to ignore him. Fighting a surge of irritation, Taylor began to unbuckle the strap, battling the surge of mixed emotions from the two idiots outside. “Playing mute is childish, Dean. The trip out was pretty rough, and don’t think the one back is going to be any better. You’d do well to be a little more... accommodating.”
The explosion of movement took Taylor completely by surprise. Dean launched himself up off the camp bed, both hands free and Taylor saw stars and fell backwards as two, three heavy punches landed, head and stomach. A fourth slammed into his solar plexus and he went all the way down, butt connecting hard with the ground.
Shaken, head spinning and unable to breath, Taylor struggled to gather enough kinesis to fight back, but the fifth KO hit right into his groin stopped any thought period as he howled and clutched himself.
“Shit, shit, stupid frigging thing!”
Taylor was only vaguely aware of Durrant’s arrival, but he felt the surge through the connection, as Durrant tackled Winchester going for physical first, even as he rocked in misery, trying not to moan. Physically Winchester and Durrant were evenly matched, even if Durrant was bulkier. But a Kinetic didn’t have just two hands in a fight, he had as many as he could imagine.
Dean hadn’t managed to get his ankle loose from the cuff in time and between that, and Durrant’s ‘extra’ hands the scuffle should have been short lived. But when the camp bed fell on top of Taylor and a stray boot clipped his chin, he couldn’t help the growl of pain as he tried to move away.
Winchester was on Durrant’s back, a thick arm wrapped around his neck, one free leg hooked around his waist, trying to choke him out. Durrant was whaling on him kinetically, the blows not as heavy as real fists but still punishing, trying to dislodge the Empath. It was a race, unconsciousness vs. endurance. Taylor tried to summon enough kinetic pull to pile in but the pain between his legs was too distracting.
And perhaps if there had only been two Kinetics Winchester might have won the round. But he was in the middle of a camp of enemies, a billion light years from home and there was Hughes. Maybe the weakest, definitely the laziest, Hughes just walked in, took the brawl in and did what came easiest. He pulled on the chain connecting them all, shook it a lot and Dean screamed, falling off Durrant’s back, clutching his head.
Taylor swallowed a wave of nausea, and Durrant gagged, groaning in pain. Hughes waved off a pair of concerned soldiers, who had run over. Humming to himself, Hughes stepped over Durrant, absently wiping his own bloody nose and snapped a pair of handcuffs on Dean, bandaged wrists pulled behind his back.
Winchester was throwing up, again, but it was just long streams of bile and spit, his misery flooding through them, adding to their own collective woes. “Dudes, you suck. All of you. Way to ruin the buzz.”
Standing, wheezing a little, Durrant lurched forward and drew back his foot to kick Winchester. Channelling his anger, Taylor threw him back, so that he crashed into the small table that had survived everything else and he snarled, “Stay away from him!”
Hughes waved his hands and said cheerfully, “Calm down guys, no need to get worked up. Just ... chill.”
Nikolai stuck his head and then his large, aggressive frame inside the tent and sneered, “If you pansies are done rolling around, Miles wants you.”
Durrant and Taylor both stepped forward to get Dean, and glared at each other, a crackle of energy between them. Rolling his eyes, Hughes hauled Winchester upright, steadying him as did. “Come on, guys. Grow up.”
The little party at the dome hadn’t changed materially, albeit Miles looked even more excited and Mckay was looking livid. “Everything alright, gentlemen?”
Hughes nodded, and Durrant scowled, but it was only when Taylor waved an ‘okay’, that Miles pushed forward. “Excellent, we have a solution and require your assistance.”
Suddenly sidetracked by the fresh blood, and the sagging Empath between them, Miles blinked slowly and Taylor snapped, “What, Augusto?”
Turning, Miles waved at the collected Doctors and said brightly, “They have identified the device emitting the shield, it’s that odd bulbous thing on the far left. Fortunately it has a control that allows you to shrink or grow the shield. Its amazing what you can find out from useless panels with the right incentive.”
Dr McKay was a glowering, furious mess, and the Colonel had several new bruises. Durrant and Hughes were staring up the dome, studying the lit entire. Hughes let Winchester sink to his knees, patting him on the head.
Augusto was fit to burst with glee as he said, “I want you to shrink the shield so that we can get inside the dome.”
“And not die from the radiation?” Taylor quipped, fingering the red mark on his chin, and then rubbing his aching chest.
Dr ‘Handsome’ Russo piped up, “We are going to set up a secondary shield just in case, but you should be able to lift items out so that we can test them, right?”
“Just glorified forklifts, huh? Why else drag us halfway across the Galaxy,” Durrant glowered, sounding hoarse.
“This is still a terrible idea, we have no idea what sort of latent radiation...” McKay shouted, pointing at the shielded room, gesturing manically.
“Secondary shield, Dr McKay! And containment boxes, we aren’t amateurs,” Augusto snapped, annoyance colouring his excitement.
McKay’s snort was less convinced than his eye roll.
Straightening, still smarting from Dean’s blow, Taylor cleared his throat, “Fine, let’s see if we can manipulate the damn thing through the shield while we wait. Follow my lead, gentlemen.” This was directed at Hughes and Durrant.
Hughes nodded, hand hovering near Winchester’s head, but Durrant’s eyes narrowed and he snarled, “No, screw you being in charge. Winchester just about had you on the ropes back there!”
Drawing the gaze of everyone in the immediate vicinity, Durrant’s volume and spike of anger was impossible to ignore. Taylor stepped into Durant’s personal space, jabbing a finger at him, “I would have got it under control!”
“Gentlemen!” Augusto tried to interject, but he made no move towards them, the air crackling around the pair.
“Between that massive ego and obsession, you refuse to see that he’s just playing us, acting all pathetic and weak. He needs to be smacked down, put in his place!” Durrant screamed, spittle flying everywhere.
“Try it and I will kill you!”
Hughes, looking pale gasped quietly, “Dudes, I’m not feeling too good.”
From over in the corner, leaning against the panel, projecting bored calm but terrified, McKay muttered, “Oh, we are so going to die.”
Backing off, looking to see where Nikolai had gone to, Augusto yelled, “Taylor, Durrant! Enough.”
It didn’t take long for the fight to get ‘mental’ and Durrant pushed at the same time as Taylor and the air snapped between them. “Son of a ...”
“Guys, I still feel kinda.... light headed,” Hughes mumbled, staggering several steps away. Miles flapped his hands and shouted, “Stop! Everyone just stop!” But Taylor and Durrant were nose to nose, screaming at each other. Rodney backed the scientists up, and was waving at the panel, mouthing something.
Hughes stared at his red hands, and wiped ineffectually at his streaming nose. “Guys?”
Getting paler and paler, he wobbled, coughed a spray of blood. “Guys...”
And collapsed, face first.
No one even noticed, the shouting Kinetics the centre of attention.
Except Dean.
*
TBC in Part 4
Ugh, I hate talking heads and exposition. Ugh. So tempted to post chapter 4 early, really really tempted. But 5 is a distant goal. Damn.