Melissa Scott - Allegiance

“At their current speed — ” Zelenka touched keys, frowned at the results. “Ha, they have increased power just a little, but they are still not at anything approaching their full speed. Seven hours, maybe a little less? I believe they may only be scanning.”

“We can’t take the chance,” Caldwell said again. “Colonel Carter, I suggest you get the Hammond ready for launch. I’ll do the same with Daedalus . Colonel Sheppard — do what you can to protect the city.”

Which wasn’t much, John thought. But they’d do what they could. “Yes, sir,” he said, and his salute was almost accurate.

Sam lay flat on her back in her narrow bunk in the Hammond’s cabin, lights dimmed, the soft sound of the ventilators filling the air. They were about as ready as they were going to be, last minute repairs and work-arounds finished an hour ago. Now there was nothing left but the waiting, to see if the Wraith ships were going to come any further into the system. The hive had slowed again three hours ago, and the cruiser had come a little further, matching its trajectory to one of the larger pieces of debris that filled the middle orbit, remains of a planet that had failed to form. Right now, its course would keep it far enough out that they could afford not to react. And that would be very much the best option, but she somehow doubted it would happen. The Wraith would keep scanning, would make a very thorough scan, but eventually they would move to attack.

She wanted to be in the control room, watching the ships’ slow progress, listening as Atlantis reported the faint brush of scanner beams, but she knew there was nothing she could do that Franklin and Alvarez wouldn’t. She’d sent all but the duty crew to eat and sleep, to get what rest they could before the fighting started, and it behooved her to set the example — not to mention that the younger members of Hammond’s crew were more likely actually to get some rest if they knew she was sleeping, too. Or trying to.

Jack would have slept. She’d seen him do it in the most unlikely conditions, switch off brain and body and fall instantly asleep. Special Forces training, maybe, or maybe it was just Jack. She’d never had the gift, any more than Daniel had, though at least she wasn’t pacing up and down pretending to study some random object or translate some obscure Ancient stele. He probably wasn’t pretending, either, any more than Jack was, though she did wonder sometimes how he’d managed to unearth quite so much erotic poetry. She smiled at the ceiling. Actually, considering all the things she was careful not to notice on the Hammond’s computers, she didn’t wonder at all. Porn seemed to be a universal human habit. Of course, for the first years, Teal’c hadn’t needed to sleep at all, so he’d been the one to watch while the rest of them flaked out. She could hear the soothing rumble of his voice . I will take the watch, O’Neill , he’d say, and they’d all feel better, even at the worst of times. Probably Teal’c had felt better, too, knowing he was in control of at least that much.

She turned her head. She couldn’t make out the details of the pictures stuck to the metal walls, but she knew the images by heart anyway. She’d done what she had to, updated her emails, done what she could to make things better. Not that there was any guarantee that they’d be sent, not if the Hammond was destroyed, but she turned her thoughts from that with the ease of long practice. There were letters at the SGC as well, just in case, and Mitchell would take care of them. She’d done everything she could, and now it was just waiting. And sleep, if she could manage it.

“Colonel Carter.” Franklin’s voice snapped her upright, reaching for the intercom. “The Wraith are moving, ma’am.”

“On my way.”

The bridge was purposeful chaos, engineers muttering over the shield generators, Lieutenant Chandler, her best helmsman, in conversation with Atlantis and his counterpart on the Daedalus . Carter ignored them — she’d be told if her input was required — and focused instead on the display on the main screen.

“What have we got?” she asked.

“The cruiser’s picked up speed,” Franklin said. “And the hive with it. They’ve stopped scanning, and their projected course brings them into the system over the city. It looks like they’re planning a hit and run.”

Damn. Sam studied the projected course lines, the relative velocities, but she couldn’t see anything else it could mean. “Put me through to Atlantis.”

“Yes, ma’am.” An airman in a short braid that made her look twelve touched keys on her console. “You’re through.”

“Colonel Sheppard,” Sam said.

“Yeah, we see it,” Sheppard answered. “I’m recommending you and Daedalus launch now.”

It didn’t take them long to get to the intercept point, enough time to get shields ready, enough time to have a brief conversation with Caldwell about tactics — not that they needed it, exactly, except to choose their targets; it was pretty clear what they’d have to do, and the best way to do it — enough time to be at the peak of readiness without tipping over into nerves and repetition. The Wraith changed course to meet them, the cruiser picking up speed, the hive turning to avoid their pincer movement. Pawn moves, Sam thought, gambit offered, and as briskly refused. Pretty much what they’d expected.

“Railguns are ready,” Franklin said. “Shields at 100 %.”

“Thank you,” Sam answered. On the screen, Daedalus rolled left, swooping down and away in a curve that should split the hive’s fire. Lieutenant Chandler pitched the Hammond into a mirroring turn, up and over the cruiser as she rolled to meet them. “Pick your targets and fire at will.”

There was a heartbeat’s pause, the cruiser swinging away, Hammond turning to match, railguns firing. Blue fire sparked from the cruiser, impact dissipated by what looked like an energy shield; the Hammond shuddered as the first shots struck her own shields, but a quick glance showed them steady.

“What the hell was that?” Franklin demanded. His hands were already busy on his controls. “It looked like — ”

“Ma’am,” Jarrett said, from comm, “ Daedalus reports the hive is shielded.”

“It looks like it’s similar to Asgard shielding,” the duty engineer said. “I’m trying — OK, yes, I’ve got a read on the shield frequency — ”

McKay, Sam thought. This had to be McKay’s work. The cruiser rolled, Chandler turning to present a narrow target. Both ships fired, shields flaring. “What kind of power is it drawing?”

“A lot,” the engineer answered. “They’re slower than I’d expect.”

Sam nodded. That made sense. The problem with Wraith technology was that it lacked a power source sufficient to run both energy shields and hyperdrives; until now, they’d always preferred to rely on the living hull regenerating itself. But if McKay had figured out a way to do both — and that was probably why he’d stolen the ZPM in the first place — No, there were still limits to what the Wraith power plants could do.

“Forward shields at ninety-two percent,” Franklin said.

“Their shields won’t hold,” Sam said, with more confidence than she felt. “Keep hitting them hard.”

The Hammond rolled up and over, swooping down on the cruiser as it passed Daedalus , trying for a shot to support the hive. Fire bloomed on Daedalus’s shields, and then Hammond struck, railguns hitting the cruiser’s shields just beyond the curve of the bow. The cruiser staggered slightly, recovered, and rolled away. Chandler kept the Hammond on their tail, and the forward shields recorded more impacts.