Jo Graham - The Furies

“Ventral shield at 50 %,” Franklin said. “Dorsal at 60 %”

Goddamn the dorsal shield. If Sam had been the type to swear on her own bridge she would have about that.

“We are losing the forward shield,” Franklin said.

Sam shook her head. “Reroute the power.” Which meant pulling it out of the others. Not good. She put her hand on the back of the helmsman’s chair, looking out over his shoulder at the battle raging. “Get us in close enough to get our people.”

“Ronon?” John spoke quickly, but his eyes were on the rest of his team and the ZPM now glowing brighter. “Ronon?” There was no answer. “Sam, pull Ronon out first. It’s the cluster of three beacons, not four. He’s got a medical emergency.”

“Standby.” Sam’s voice was clipped and the frequency riddled with static.

“Perhaps we need to find another way off this ship,” Teyla said.

“We will never make it back to the jumper bay in three minutes,” Radek said, scowling at the ZPM. “And there is not much point in going anywhere else aboard the ship, as it will be entirely destroyed as soon as the ZPM reaches critical mass.”

“Sam?” There was a sudden burst of stunner fire at the door, and John dove under a console, dragging Radek down with him. The Wraith had finally discovered they were in the ZPM room. Cadman had flattened herself against the far wall, while Teyla and Todd were behind the interface. The light of the ZPM grew brighter.

“Radek? Is it possible they could stop the overload if they got in here?” John yelled.

“Not a chance,” Radek said from somewhere smooshed beneath him.

John hit the transmitter again. “Ok. Sam, now is a good time.”

“I can’t…” John heard her say, then felt the familiar prickle, saw the familiar shimmer in the air as the beams engaged.

“…get you right now,” Sam finished.

The Hammond pulled up from an attempted dive between two of the cruisers, shields shaking with the strain of a near shield on shield pass. There was the scream of instruments. They’d connected, ventral shield against the cruiser’s shields, a bleed of power as the shields literally forced the ships away from one another, momentum blunted and deflected at the cost of enormous amounts of energy. The Hammond shook, inertial dampeners trying to compensate, and Sam was nearly flung off her feet.

“Damage report!”

“We’ve lost the ventral shield!” Franklin shouted over the screams of alarms. “Dorsal shield at 10 %. Forward shield at 20 %.”

A massive hive ship rotated before the Hammond , weapons blazing at last, Todd’s ship joining the fray. One of the cruisers was caught in its fire, incandescing as shot after shot plunged through the shield gap where the Hammond had damaged it. The shield on shield pass must have told on it as well.

“About time,” Sam said, her hands flying over the engineering station. “That makes it two on five instead of one on six. Sheppard? Ronon?”

Nothing but silence on the frequency. The amount of EM transmissions flying around the battle site effectively acted as jamming.

“Franklin, can you lock onto the radio transmitters on the hive?”

“No, ma’am!” Franklin didn’t look up from his instruments, sweat standing out on his brow, undistracted by the mayhem around him. “We are not close enough for a beam lock. And I am only picking up three signals.”

Sam tried again. “Sheppard?”

Smoke wreathed him, choking him, filling his lungs. The ship was burning, fires eating up all the available oxygen. They’d go out soon. Vacuum would claim their fuel.

Ronon gave Rodney’s legs a shove. Something had gone wrong. That wasn’t a surprise. He couldn’t raise Sheppard and he couldn’t raise the Hammond . It was time to find his own way off the ship while there still was a ship. One more shove, and Rodney was inside the tiny escape pod, head lolling back to expose green veined throat.

Coughing, Ronon dragged himself to his feet. One more time.

The rush of atmosphere caught him with Jennifer in his arms, and he staggered, caught in a maelstrom of air rushing toward some distant hull breach. It was all he could do to hold onto her and a bulkhead at the same time. He couldn’t make any headway. It tore away the smoke, but also the air. One deep breath, two. Overbreathe, because in a moment…

The rush stopped. Somewhere a bulkhead door had slammed shut, some crewman risking life and limb to seal a compartment. For now it held, but the ship was in its death throes.

The air was thin. Ronon held his breath, moving as slowly as underwater. The gravity was fluctuating too. Jennifer’s hair floated out behind her, her eyes rolled up in her head, unconscious. Maybe dying. He had no idea what was wrong. But if they stayed on this ship any longer they’d all be dead.

His vision was getting spots. Not enough oxygen.

A few more steps. He thought it was to the left. Jennifer felt light as a feather. One hand of hers trailed along, as though she had drowned. Oxygen deprived, just as he was.

His vision darkened. He felt the gap with his left hand. Light as this it was easy to shove Jennifer in. Dark. The release must be here.

The door irised shut, self contained systems activating.

Ten seconds. Twelve.

Ronon drank down deep gulps of air. No time to check on Rodney or Jennifer, their bodies sprawled together, dead or living. No time. The hive ship pitched, inertial dampeners failing.

Ronon hit the launch switch, and in a blast of miniature thrusters the escape pod separated, blasting out into fire.

“What in the hell?” John said, the barrel of his P90 rising as he looked around the chamber of the hive ship. He’d felt the tingle of beams, had a moment’s gratitude that somehow Sam had gotten close enough to grab them. Wrong.

Radek blinked owlishly, picking himself up from the floor, while Cadman drew in a breath of astonishment. Only Teyla seemed composed.

And Todd. He turned to a tall Wraith standing at a console, an expression very like pleased approbation on his face. “Well done, Ember.”

“Where are we?” Cadman demanded. “What happened?”

The Wraith at the console didn’t look fazed at all by Cadman being the one with the demands, and Teyla stepped forward, speaking formally to her as though they were barely acquainted. “We are aboard my ship. You have my gratitude for your part in combating treachery.”

John felt like he was still a step behind, but Cadman looked like she was about three steps back.

Teyla turned to the Wraith at the console, and the other three who had hurried in.

“My Queen,” one said, going to one knee. “We are relieved that you are safe.”

“Through the good work of my cleverman, Ember,” she said. “And the foresight of my Consort.” She gave Todd an inscrutable look. John held his tongue. He knew better than to mess with her when she was playing this game.

Teyla turned and inclined her head a few inches to Cadman. “Blades and clevermen, gentlemen all, this is Wreathed in the Plants of Victory, a young kinswoman of She Who Carries Many Things. I tell you this day that my Consort and I should not have escaped from the treachery of Queen Death, whose blades attempted to murder me in the very Chamber of Oath Taking, beneath the most potent symbols of truce! I should be dead this moment were it not for her and the Consort of Atlantis, who had come aboard Death’s ship as part of She Who Carries Many Things’ attack!”

Her voice rang in the chamber. Radek was forgotten in the introductions, but probably he didn’t rank enough to merit an introduction, some hanger on of Cadman’s, who had now been inexplicably raised in status to Carter’s heir.