James Swallow - Nightfall

In aspect, the Hive Ship’s profile was like that of the blade from a spear tip, a rounded petal with dagger-sharp edges; if it had been in battle with one of its own, as the Hives of this clan so often were, the conflict would have been ended by now. But the Asgard craft, a match for the Hive Ship’s speed and weaponry, was obdurate and durable. Even as it was now, injured by damage within and without, piloted only by mere humans instead of the Asgard themselves, it still resisted them.

Probing sensor scans read through the wash of radiation and discharge between the warring vessels, as the Wraith ship sniffed the void for the first sign of weakness just as an ocean predator would taste blood in the water. Thermal blooms deep inside the steely hull warned of power failures and broken conduits; there was a chance that the Asgard ship might destroy itself if the engagement went on too long. For the Wraith to have the victory they craved, obliteration was not their goal. The alien craft was to be brought to heel, not destroyed. And to achieve that, a swift and decisive blow was needed. A hard, punishing strike, enough to hobble the Aegis once and for all, before the humans ran it into the ground.

The Hive Ship received its command through the webs of neural fiber that coiled through the channels in the hollows of its bones, and reaction mass surged through its drives.

The Asgard vessel tried to turn away, using the fog of ice and dust as a screen, but the Wraith were too fast. The Hive came up from its position to the stern of its quarry, rolling hard to present its port edge to the dorsal surface of the Aegis . It powered ahead, cutting over the top of the other vessel on spikes of thruster fire. As they passed, the Wraith craft unleashed a series of pinpoint broadside shots from its cannons, targeting them at every power nexus its sensors could detect.

The Aegis , rendered sluggish by the damage it had suffered, shuddered and groaned. Across the top of the hull, brief spurts of flame and vented gasses signaled direct hit after direct hit.

Shredded metal forged in shipyards a galaxy away tumbled into the grip of Heruun’s atmosphere, becoming brief darts of fire.

“Damn it to hell!” said Carter, the rare curse escaping her lips as a blue crackle of static charge snapped around the console and caressed her outstretched fingers. She snatched back her hands in reflex and winced, the holographic screens around her blinking on and off as the backwash from the Wraith bombardment lashed the vessel.

“Colonel,” said Teyla, and her tone was enough for Sam to know what was coming next. “Power levels are dropping across all tiers. The autonomic weapons are not responding.”

Carter grabbed the control spheres on her panel and manipulated them, trying to access the ship’s offensive systems, but nothing seemed to work. If anything, the Athosian woman’s estimate of the problem was conservative. The semi-intelligent computer systems of the Aegis had already begun a vain attempt to repair the damage and prevent it worsening — and to do that, power had been channeled from the guns to shields. Sam hesitated for a split-second, ready to override the machine mind’s choices, but then left it to work. The energy cannons they still had operable were barely making a dent in the Hive Ship. Unlike the Aegis , a vessel that had only recently risen back into space and was still riven with damage from battles past, the Hive Ship was at the top of its game, fresh for the fight.

If the situation had been reversed, the Wraith craft would have already been ashes; but that wasn’t how it was playing out. Sam had been at the helm of ill-fated craft before, from a gut-shot F-15 Eagle during Desert Storm to a blast-damaged Goa’uld Death Glider, and more besides. She had a pilot’s innate feel for a wounded bird, and the Aegis was hurt bad, she could sense it.

The deck rocked and vibrated as another salvo slashed across the hull. Carter caught Teyla’s eye and saw her own grim expression mirrored on the face of the warrior woman.

Sam reached for the radio on her gear vest. “Carter to Sheppard, respond. What’s your situation, over?”

When the colonel replied, he sounded husky and fatigued. “ Good and bad. The Wraith in the computer core have been eliminated. But they left us a gift. ”

Carter felt her blood run cold. “They got to the matter converter?”

“ That damned thing is like a doomsday weapon vending machine. We got a fully-armed collapsar device down here, and its ticking. Well, flashing, but you get the idea. ”

“Can McKay —?”

He answered before the question left her lips. “ He’s trying to disarm it, but I’m not hopeful. We need another solution. ”

“The Asgard teleportation system…” ventured Teyla, but Sam shook her head and nodded at the power grid on the holo-screen. Among other less critical systems, the network of energy links feeding the transporters aboard Aegis were dark.

“We can’t beam anything off this ship,” she told her, “not us, not the collapsar.” Carter swallowed hard at the end of the statement, realizing that what she had just said was effectively a death sentence for them all.

There was a rattle from the radio as it changed hands and then Rodney McKay’s voice issued forth. “ Sam, if you have any suggestions about how to deactivate this thing, they would be really appreciated. ” His tone was tight with anxiety. “ I mean really, really appreciated, because I got nothing. ”

Sam’s chest tightened. Perhaps, if she had been down in the core with McKay, she might have been able to help… But she doubted it. If Rodney couldn’t find a solution, Sam knew it was likely she would have come to the same conclusion. The methodical, logical Asgard were not the type to fit a star-killer with any kind of an off switch.

“Colonel?” Teyla gestured to one of the flickering holographic panes, an exterior view showing a fuzzy image of Heruun below them. “If the Asgard weapon detonates here, what will happen to the planet?”

“Nothing good,” Carter replied, a sudden, cold sense of certainty settling in her. She glanced down and scanned the active panels of the console in front of her, finding the energy stream she was looking for. It glowed softly, pulsing blue-green. The power train to the hyperspace drives was still active, still on standby after Fenrir had used it for his earlier short-range displacement. By some miracle, the pounding the Aegis had taken from the Wraith had not yet disrupted it.

McKay called out again. “ Sam? Are you there? ”

“We’re all here,” she said, half to herself. “Wrong place, wrong time…” Carter worked the controls, and the ship groaned as the sub-light engines throbbed with power. “I’m bringing us around. I’m going to cycle the hyperspace drive.”

It was Sheppard who spoke next. “ Roger that.. ” His tone made it clear he understood what she was really telling him.

“ We’ll need to be at least five light-days out… ” Sam heard Rodney in the background.

“Got it.” Sam’s hands moved in loops as she selected the jump co-ordinates and began the process that would spin up the engines to full power.

On the exterior screen, the view was changing as the Aegis turned slowly to face the Hive Ship, the two craft closing on one another bow-to-bow.

Teyla glanced at blinking indicator on her console. “The Hive Ship is sending a signal. A call for our surrender.” She cut off the communication without waiting for Carter to suggest it. “Colonel, I know we cannot let the weapon detonate near the planet, but if we depart, we will leave Heruun to the predations of the Wraith.”