Jo Graham - Death Game

“Where is the jumper?” Teyla shouted. Suua and Jitrine and Teyla and Rodney were flat on their faces, trying to figure out which way to go. With the jumper cloaked, they couldn’t see exactly where it was, and under fire they couldn’t afford to wander around looking for it.

With a warping of air like a mirage coming into focus, the jumper decloaked. The back was down. “Come on!” Rodney yelled, dragging Teyla up. “Come on, kids!”

Ailan and Nevin scrambled after, running for the jumper as fast as possible.

Returning fire. John rolled out of the way of a stun beam, only to see it catch Ronon’s legs. It was a partial hit, and rather than rendering him unconscious, just dropped his legs out from under him.

“We retreated to the jumper under fire,” John muttered. “Why do so many of my reports end that way?”

Cadman’s fire laid out one Wraith and flushed another. John’s stun beam caught him and flung him backwards, buying at least a moment’s time.

“Ronon?”

Teeth gritted. Ronon was dragging himself along the pavement toward the jumper with his arms, his legs apparently paralyzed by the beam.

John swore, and scampered over the stones, staying as low as possible. He grabbed Ronon around the waist and yanked him along. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get this thing done.”

Pulling and scrambling, he got Ronon in the jumper, rolling onto the floor in the back. Behind them, Lorne was laying down covering fire as the last of their team got aboard.

John tried to get up, tried being the operative word. He was completely hemmed in by feet. Boots. Feet. More feet. Suua’s feet were big and wearing sandals. He stepped back enough, wedging against the seat, for John to get up, pressed tight between Cadman and a Marine lance corporal, who looked apologetic.

“Sorry, Colonel,” he said.

“How many people are in this jumper anyhow?” John asked over the general din as the back gate began to rise.

“Eighteen!” Rodney shouted from the front. “Six Marines, Lorne, Cadman, me and Carson. Plus you, Teyla, Zelenka, Ronon, and four people you picked up.”

“Like sausages in a can,” Radek put in.

Carson glanced back at him. “Don’t you mean sardines?”

“You have your fish, and I will have my sausages,” Radek said primly.

“Eighteen,” John tried to push his way between Marines to get to the front. Whether or not that would be a weight issue was something he’d have to find out. He’d never had eighteen in the jumper before. “Carson, can you lift this thing?”

“Just a moment,” Carson said. “I’m having trouble getting the back gate closed.” The blue fire of Wraith stunners glanced off the windscreen as John shoved his way into the forward compartment, stepping on Radek in the process.

“Ow, ow, ow,” muttered Radek, who was inexplicably barefooted.

“Well, hurry up,” John said. “They’ll get something with heavier firepower out here any minute.”

In the front co-pilot’s seat, Teyla pointed. “They just did.” Above the colonnade, the Wraith cruiser was lifting into the air.

“Not good!” John elbowed past Rodney, who was standing in the aisle. “Carson, let me take the chair. Rodney, get that back gate closed!”

“Anytime,” Carson said fervently, sliding out of the pilot’s seat, which involved nearly sitting in Teyla’s lap as John shoved past him into the seat.

John’s eyes flicked over the board. “Somebody’s standing on the manual release,” he yelled. “Rodney!”

The cruiser began to rotate on its landing jets, its guns tracking toward them.

“Crap.” John got the shields up just as the first barrage of shots from the cruiser hit them, rocking them sideways, one of the jumper’s drive pods scraping along the stones of the courtyard. Indicators lit red. Running into the ground wasn’t recommended.

“Rodney!”

“Got it!” The back gate locked into place, a really important thing if you didn’t want to spill your seventeen passengers out the back of the jumper when you hit the gas. He’d learned that the hard way in a pickup truck once.

The jumper shot into the air, dodging around the next fire in a surprisingly clumsy fashion. The scrape to the drive pod seemed to have damaged one of the lateral thrusters. Well, no time to worry about that, and not much need to. He could hold it steady and compensate manually if he needed too, as long as nobody expected anything really tricky. John eased the indicator for the cloaking device to full.

And nothing happened.

A quick glance at the indicators — the port cloaking emitter was damaged.

“Rodney!”

“What?” shrieked Rodney from the very back.

“We’ve lost the cloak.” John spared another look at the heads up display. “It says the emitter is damaged on the port drive pod.”

“Do you expect me to climb out and fix it?” Rodney yelled. “I can fix power problems inboard. I can’t fix an external emitter that you bent up with your lousy take off!”

The cruiser’s next shot shook the jumper, sending Carson flying into Teyla’s lap. “Sorry,” he said, trying not to squash her, her nose against his chest.

At least the inertial dampeners seemed fine. John banked the jumper steeply to the right. Not so hot. It was definitely pulling. That lateral thruster was important. He’d fought the cruiser before, in the other jumper, but he still didn’t remember a moment of it.

John gave it full speed, streaking out over the sea at low altitude. He’d done this before. This was what Teyla said he’d already done. And it hadn’t been a good plan before. With the energy shield above he couldn’t go for altitude, and with no cloak he couldn’t disappear.

The sea blurred past beneath him, no more than a vast expanse of blue. Behind, the cruiser was gaining, and had still not achieved her full speed. Flat out, she’d probably have the advantage, especially as heavily laden as the jumper was. He spared a glance for the heads up display. The little jumper could handle the weight, but it was definitely slowing them down.

The coast of the mainland was coming up ahead, Pelagia on the far eastern horizon. This was exactly what he’d done before. He was sure of it. No need to make the same mistakes twice.

John pulled the jumper around in a steep turn, banking hard and coming onto a new course at full speed, closing on the cruiser at better than nine hundred miles per hour as they ran toward each other.

Shots streaked out, closer and closer, splattering off the forward shields.

Straight toward the cruiser. Holding steady. Holding steady. They couldn’t go any higher. Even the slightest deviation…

“Forward shield at 20 %,” Teyla said quietly, her eyes on the readouts.

“What are you doing?” Carson squawked.

“A game I used to play in a pickup truck,” John muttered.

The cruiser grew larger and larger, fragments of a second elongating, seeming to take forever to close the distance between them.

“Oh God,” Carson said.

Another shot splashed the shield with blue, rocking the jumper wildly. They were going to hit. They were going straight into the forward superstructure…

And the cruiser pulled up. The instant it twitched John dived, one hundred percent power in a ninety degree dive toward the sea.

Above, there was a tremendous explosion as the cruiser hit the energy shield, pulling away from the jumper and fatally into the shield above. Pieces fell toward the sea, caught in gravity’s inexorable grip.

The jumper pulled out at two hundred feet, skimming along over the waves as detritus rained down.

Teyla let go of her white knuckled grip on the chair arms, but said nothing.

“It’s called chicken,” John said, euphoria surging with adrenaline through his veins. He knew he had a silly grin on his face, not the kind of expression that you ought to have at a moment like that. “You drive at each other as fast as you can and see who blinks first.”