David Wilson - Brimstone

Rodney ditched the lance. He drew the great sword and spun, driving his mount along the front rank of Wraith. He slashed right, and then left, and then drove his blade deep through the armor of a third Wraith soldier. A fourth came at him from the left, and he tried to pivot back. Before he could make it, Ronon stepped in. The big man fired, and the Wraith reeled back. Rodney caught the gleam of battle in Ronon’s eyes, and he smiled, though no one could see it beneath the helmet.

He felt it. His normal reaction to a situation like this was nothing but a very strong urge toward self-preservation, but now — with the visor guiding him and the Ancient weapons giving him strength and speed — he felt invincible.

Lorne came up suddenly on the other side and with him two others. Rodney thought one of them was named Gravel, but he couldn’t quite recall. They advanced on the retreating Wraith with a vengeance, keeping in a tight group.

Cumby turned and stared at the approaching Wraith. He saw the others battling for their lives, and stared incredulously at Rodney, who led the attack. Then he turned, and nodded to himself. It was his turn to make a contribution. He hunkered down low to make as small a target as possible, and he ran toward the DHD. He didn’t look at the battle again. Either he’d make it, or he wouldn’t. He’d never actually dialed an address for a gate, but he’d seen it done dozens of times and for him that amounted to owning the skill. He knew the address for Atlantis. He knew the addresses of every gate that had been opened since he’d been part of the Atlantis crew, and several others he’d chanced across in the course of his work.

He had no experience in battle and was terrified, but he kept moving. Somehow, seeing Rodney and Teyla again, when he’d thought they were dead, opened an unexpected reserve deep inside him. He wanted to be part of it. He wanted to do something that mattered, and this was his chance. He wanted to open that gate.

A blast from one of the Wraith weapons shot past him and he ducked, but he didn’t look up to see where it had come from. He kept his head down, and he ran for the DHD. When he finally turned and put his hands on it, he saw that Sheppard wasn’t far behind him. The colonel was dragging Teyla’s limp body, dodging blasts as well as possible.

Cumby hunched over the DHD, closed his eyes and concentrated. He saw the symbols in their proper order, opened his eyes, and began to press buttons. He tried not to pay attention to the firefight just beyond the gate. He ignored the fact the charge was being led by a medieval knight on a mechanical horse. The symbols on the gate began to illuminate, and his fingers flew over the Ancient glyphs.

“Hurry!” Sheppard called.

Cumby pressed the final glyph. The gate lit up, the glowing space inside the giant ring pressed out as if something was rushing through from within, then snapped back and settled.

Lorne barked a command, and Ronon, Gravel, Verdino and the others began to slowly backpedal toward the gate. Within moments, Rodney found himself alone in front. He tried to order the horse to retreat, but apparently it was programmed for one thing, and one thing only. To do battle. There were still enemies faced off against him, and the visor sighted in on them, one after another. He slashed out with the sword again, dropping a Wraith warrior, and then sheathed it, reaching once more for the lance.

The whine of incoming darts filled the air and the stallion reared. Rodney leaned into it, gripped with his knees, and leveled the lance at the tree line. Two darts soared up into sight, and he fired. He hit the first one directly and it spun out of control, but the second returned fire. The blast struck the front of the horse and it reared again, this time too fast and too hard. As it went up and over, Rodney spun, aimed, and fired. He caught the rear of the dart as it passed overhead and it burst into flames, canted crazily to the right and dove into the trees. It met the ground with a scream of tortured metal. Rodney let go of the lance and tried to hold his balance, but it was no use. The horse was not meant for the angle it had reached, and it toppled. He dove clear, crashed to the ground, and bounced hard.

“Get through the gate!” Sheppard cried. He ran to where Rodney had fallen, reaching out to grab him by the arm. He stopped, stunned, when Rodney bounced to his feet, brushed himself off, and turned.

The Wraith realized that the advantage had shifted and surged forward. Rodney glanced up and saw that they were only yards away.

Then there was a sudden roar of engines, and the front line of Wraith were nearly cut in half by a sudden blast from above. Cover fire drove the advancing Wraith quickly into the woods.

Sheppard screamed, “Rodney! Run! The gate!”

Rodney nodded, and the two sprinted after the others. Ronon and Lorne stood, one to each side of the gate, offering covering fire. The others had gone through. Behind them, the Wraith were still in retreat, firing randomly after Sheppard and Rodney.

“Go!” Sheppard cried to the others. “Get through and close the gate!”

He dove, and Rodney dove beside him. Ronon and Lorne let loose a final burst of fire and spun through after them.

As they passed through, the gate shimmered and closed.

The room was as silent as a tomb for about ten seconds, and then everyone seemed to talk at once. Rodney stood, and Sheppard stared at him. His jacket had come open, and a small device glowed on his chest. Sheppard recognized it immediately. It was the small personal force-field Rodney had nearly trapped himself in shortly after reporting to Atlantis. He’d wondered what happened to the thing.

“When were you planning on mentioning you were wearing that?” Irritated, he pushed Rodney so hard he fell over backward — and bounced right back to his feet with a grin. Sheppard shook his head, not amused. “We thought you were dead, Rodney. We nearly left you behind.”

“Sorry, the time never seemed quite right,” McKay said. “I just figured that it might come in handy.” He grinned, and then deactivated the device. “You never can tell.”

Sheppard let out a breath and turned away, just in time to see the medical team lifting Teyla onto a gurney. She was conscious and, despite her pain, she smiled at him. “We made it.”

“Yeah.” He stepped over and put his hand on her arm, feeling her solid and real beneath his touch. Thank God. A sudden rush of emotion caught him by surprise, choking him, and he had to clear his throat a couple of times before he could say anymore. “I thought…”

“I know,” she said, covering his hand with her own. “I am sorry to have given you cause for concern.”

“Concern?” He half laughed, a bark of giddy emotion. “Yeah, ‘concern’ is exactly what it was.” Then he squeezed her arm again and jammed his hands into his pockets; after the relief came the guilt. “Listen, I’m sorry. I should have gone back for you. I shouldn’t have left without — ”

“Had you done so,” she said, her voice strong despite her injuries, “we would not have survived.”

He looked at her from beneath his brow. “You don’t know — ”

“Rodney could not have carried us all on his horse,” she said with a smile. “And without it, we could not have reached the gate in time. Of that, I am certain.”

“Still…”

“You did what was right, John,” she said. “And what I would have done, had the situation been reversed.”

For a moment he held her gaze and there was honesty there, like there always was with Teyla. She wouldn’t lie to him, not about this or anything else. And then she was wheeled away and he watched her until she was out of sight.