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11/22/2005: "Nano Day... what? 22?"
music: The quiet hum of the lab computermood: half and half
Ahh, the much awaited (Well by me) rewrite of the blast to the past, sadly minus Ronon, who was complicating things for me too much. Alas Ronon, we shall hopefully find you an interesting plot point, or just relegate you to the back, because quite frankly, I want to finish this story, and you've got an entire story planned for you and McKay, so whatever.
This version hits on several of the same plot points, and I've even reincorporated some of my favorite bits from the original write, but it takes a very very different direction on Sheppard and McKay's arrival into the past, as their reception to the new era is nothing close to the reception they received the first time around. The bit players from the last write have been rewritten, and I think I like the tension and mistrust... it seems more fitting. Besides, the boys will have time to win them over and start playing Robin Hood.
Although how I don't even know yet... can't remember if Carus's name is actually Carus. I have whatever I decided to call him written back on Hal. Ahh, I have my liketheriver fic as well as half of Tipper's mammoth story printed out for my airport adventures tomorrow. Will probably print this new part out and bring a notebook as well, just in case the inspiration bug bites me at the airport. Ahh lovely 
Word Count (for today and yesterday): 3350 (That's an average of 1675 for both days. Yay!)
Total Word Count: Oh, I don't even know anymore.
Outside, Ronon and Teyla snapped to attention as the sound of the machine grew from a steady hum to an all out whine.
"Is that a good sound?" Sheppard shouted over the engine as he tried to pull McKay out.
"What do you think?!"
The whine increased to an ear-splitting pitch, which was almost deafening to the two men right next to the device. It took all of Sheppard's willpower not to drop the scientist and cover his ears. He gritted his teeth and gave McKay a good tug, mentally vowing to drag McKay along on he and Ronon's laps around the city. As McKay finally worked himself free of the device, a blinding white light filled the room. Both men gave a startled cry as they felt themselves physically pushed to the ground.
As the flash faded from their eyes, they could hear the engine winding down. As his vision cleared Sheppard found himself half-sprawled on the ground, one hand still clamped around Rodney's arm, who found himself lying on his back.
McKay let out a groan, but could hardly hear it over the ringing in his ears. The dancing spots finally faded away and he pushed himself upright, looking around the room, which was completely intact. He shook his head and popped his ears, finally turning to Sheppard.
"What the hell was that?" He practically shouted.
"I'm not deaf!" Sheppard returned.
"What?!"
"I said I'm not—" He stopped and lowered his voice, even though it sounded muffled to his own ears. "Never mind."
"I can't hear you!"
Sheppard indicated for McKay to lower his volume several notches.
"Huh?"
"Shut up!" Sheppard hissed, as he scanned the area.
"You don't have to be so crabby," McKay grumbled.
"McKay," Sheppard spoke softly, but his tone betrayed his concern. "What exactly do you see wrong with this picture?"
McKay looked around. Everything seemed as it was before. Everything was thankfully intact, even though it sounded like the machine was going to explode on them. "I don't see anything different?"
"Nothing?" Sheppard indicated the empty street through the blown out wall. "Nothing's missing?"
"Nothing I can—oh crap! Where'd they go?"
There was no sign of Teyla or Ronon outside. Wind picked up the dirt lining the street, blowing it past them.
"Teyla? Ronon?" Sheppard tapped his radio, but only got static in return. He slowly rose to his feet, eyes combing the seemingly innocuous scene in front of him. "I've got a bad feeling about this."
"Save your bad Star Wars lines for later," McKay grumbled as he pushed himself off the ground in an exaggerated fashion. As he dusted himself off, he gave the machine a dark look. "Just what the hell was that suppose to do, other than rob us of two very important senses?"
"Hey McKay, missing teammates. Mind concentrating on that for a second?"
"Well excuse me for wondering what the hell happened."
"I don't like this," Sheppard said to himself more than McKay.
"Well don't assume I'm having a barrel of laughs either," McKay hefted up his pack of equipment, giving it the briefest of glances to make sure it was still in tact, as Sheppard was giving him the evil eye. "I'm packing! I'm packing! Sheesh! You can just go look out there without me."
"No chance," Sheppard approached the exit cautiously. "You stay with me."
"Yes Mother," Rodney sniped, but joined his friend. "Well?"
Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Let me make sure the area's clear."
"Aren't I supposed to 'stay with you'?"
Sheppard gave him another glare, clearly not in the mood. McKay crossed his arms, which John took as a silent agreement to stay put. Satisfied, he edged out from around the corner, hefting his P-90 to bear. The street was completely empty. He edged out further, glancing at the spaces between the buildings, but still saw nothing. Satisfied he nodded to McKay, letting himself relax a little.
McKay stepped out, squinting his eyes at the unexpected light. "What the hell?"
"What now?"
"I could have sworn the sun was in a different position."
Sheppard frowned, and then looked up at the sky. The angle was definitely different than when they stepped into the building. It looked like it had earlier that morning, as opposed to early afternoon. "You're right."
McKay's head was already spinning. "We lost time."
"How much time?"
"I'm supposed to be able to tell you that just by looking at the sun?"
"Rhetorical question," John shook his head, eyeing the dusty street. Something was off, but he couldn't quite place it. McKay continued to pace around in a circle, and kept glancing back at the machine. Crouching down, he tried to figure out what was nagging at him. At this level he could see his and McKay's footprints as they left the building. He watched as Rodney laid down more and more as he continued to pace. He darted his eyes over to where he'd last seen Teyla, but could see no sign of her even standing there. "All our footprints from today… yesterday, whenever are gone. That leaves out tracking where they went."
"By 'they' you mean…"
"Ronon and Teyla, and whoever took them."
"Whoa whoa, why are we assuming someone took them. Do you think your peaceful worshippers suddenly developed a bit of blood lust?"
"They do not worship me!" Sheppard spat.
"Hello, they have a fifty freaking foot statue of you! If that's not misguided love, I don't know what is."
"It could be worse."
"Oh?" McKay raised an eyebrow.
"It could be of you," Sheppard grinned as he saw McKay's face pucker up indignantly.
"Whatever," McKay spun around, "we're getting nowhere standing here in the street staring at nonexistent footprints."
"True," John glanced at the buildings. "We should sweep the area, see if we can find any sign of them."
"And when we don't?"
"We will," Sheppard's eyes blazed with conviction.
"Look, if you'd just let me study the device some more—"
"You yourself said that you don't know what it does, and I can't leave you here unprotected."
"How gallant of you Colonel, but I'm just as disturbed by their disappearance as you are. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm of no use in the search and rescue department. If I have time to study it—"
"Look Rodney, the answer is no. Now come on, we can't waste any more time arguing," Sheppard strode off in one direction, not glancing back until he reached the corner to see if McKay was following. When he was sure he was, he continued on. He stretched his senses, straining both his eyes and ears (ironically the two things the device had tried to rob him of) for any sign of his missing team members or any indication of what had happened.
He could only see dead city for miles and miles around him, and the only sound were his and McKay's footsteps. He relied on listening for McKay's pace to keep track of the scientist, not willing to let his attention slip. Something had happened, something bad his instincts screamed at him. He just had no clue what. For all he knew that Ancient device had phased them out of reality like some poorly written Star Trek episode.
As they approached a corner he held up a fist to indicate to McKay that they were stopping. He peered around the edge, to find yet another empty street. He tried to squash his disappointment, and slipped around the edge. His hand brushed over his bulging pocket, and he could have slapped himself for not thinking of using the life signs detector earlier.
"You could have said something, you know," He muttered to McKay as he slipped the device out, watching as the screen lit up as soon as it touched his hand. A layout of the surrounding areas of the city appeared in front of him, as well as several white dots. Alarm flared through him as he saw that not only were they dangerously close to their position, but they were moving in.
"C'mon Rodney, we need to move now!" He dashed back around the corner, but instead of McKay, a man dressed in a mix of leather and tattered manufactured cloth stood there in a defensive stance, watching Sheppard like a hunter would his prey. Instantly he snapped his P-90 up, holding the life signs detector in his other hand to make sure he wasn't being snuck up on from behind.
"Where is he?" Sheppard demanded.
The man just continued to eye him warily, holding his bow and arrow ready to shoot.
"I'm not going to ask again," Sheppard growled and took a defiant step forward, watching as the other man tensed up. He risked a look at the life signs detector and saw two dots huddled around the backside of the building. The rest of the dots surrounding him were spread out. He flicked his eyes back to the man in front of him. "Well if you're not going to be so talkative, you mind stepping aside?"
The man said nothing.
"Fine, but I'd really hate to get blood all over that nice quality leather."
"You drop your weapon," the man finally grunted.
"Sorry, don't think so," Sheppard kept his grip on his P-90, flicking a glance at the screen again to see a dot edging up around another corner.
"I suggest you listen," a deep voice bellowed from behind the building.
Sheppard held his ground, although he could feel the hairs rising on the back of his neck. The others were getting close. He needed to make his move now. Behind the leather-clad man he briefly saw a standard issue boot flail from behind the corner, and Sheppard could feel his heart pound sickeningly in his chest.
"McKay?" He shouted the name.
"Colonel, maybe you should do what he says," Rodney's voice was strained, and he detected the all-too-familiar tone of barely-contained panic.
"Nice warning by the way."
"He's got a knife!"
"C'mon McKay, you've handled knives before."
"Not well!" McKay's voice cracked. "Damn it! Just shuffle forward!"
Sheppard felt his stomach drop as he saw the reason for McKay's barely restrained panic, as he was edged out past the corner with a large hunter's knife held firmly against his throat. A bulky scar-faced man held the knife and scientist in a firm grip. Gritting his teeth he immediately adjusted his aim from Bow-Man to Scar.
"See!" McKay cried. "Not my fault!"
"You couldn't have grunted or something?"
"Major—"
"Colonel!"
"Don't argue semantics with me when some lunatic has a knife at my throat!"
"What do you want me to do about it?"
McKay's eyes bulged. "What do—what do—what do you think?"
"Right," Sheppard smiled sarcastically, "would you be so kind as to drop the knife. My friend doesn't really appreciate it."
"Screw diplomacy! Shoot him!" McKay shouted, but squawked as the knife dug in a little more firmly.
"Enough!" Scar gave both men an exasperated look. "Just drop your weapon and your friend will remain unharmed. If you do not, I will silence him myself."
Reluctantly Sheppard let his P-90 drop, watching Scar for the next move. Scar waited a few moments before removing the knife and shoving McKay forward. Behind him, Sheppard could feel the rest of the party step out of hiding.
"That wasn't what I was hoping for," McKay muttered, self-consciously rubbing his neck where the knife had poked.
"What can I say, I'm off my game." Sheppard muttered back as he felt something that suspiciously felt like a gun poke into his back. He peered over his shoulder at a behemoth of a woman with unruly brown hair. "Nice to meet you too."
She growled at him and he snapped his attention back to Scar, a much safer place to rest his eyes. "So… fancy meeting you here."
"What are you doing here?"
"Have you not talked to Barclay?" Sheppard snapped his fingers. "I knew I should have gotten that permission slip signed."
Scar frowned. "Barclay? Who is Barclay?"
"Village elder, old guy, likes to tell long stories about boring myths," McKay tried.
Scar stared blankly at him.
"You wouldn't happen to be opposed to hugely disproportional statues—"
"Hey! It wasn't out of proportion."
"Please, with those dimensions somebody has to be lying."
Scar growled in frustration and stepped forward, dramatically slashing his knife. "Answer my question or I'll cut your tongue out!"
"Well that's rather counterproductive." McKay commented, and then squeaked as the knife was pointed in his direction. "But by all means Colonel, tell the man!"
"We're looking for our friends." It was half the truth. He glared at the man in front of him. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about them, would you?"
Scar held his gaze, staring back coolly. "I know that only a fool would go searching through the City of the Dead for the living."
"Seriously, City of the Dead? Did we get transported into some bad Dawn of the Dead remake?" McKay whispered to Sheppard.
"Just keep quiet if you're not going to add anything useful," Sheppard muttered through the side of his mouth, before holding Scar's gaze again. "So if only idiots come here, what does that make you?"
"Oh, and exactly how is insulting him useful! Ow!" McKay rubbed the back of his head where Sheppard had smacked him, glaring at the colonel. "What was that for?"
"I said quiet Rodney."
"Well excuse me for wanting to keep my tongue!"
"Maybe if you'd just shut up—" The gun dug further into Sheppard's back, and he risked a quick glance at Big Bertha in the back, "look! If we want to be stupid and search for our friends, what's the problem?"
"Coming to the city makes the Deimos return faster."
The Deimos, ahh, now they were getting somewhere. "Then I have to ask again, why are you here?"
"We saw the flash of light," Bow-Man explained. “The city does not light up on its own.”
“I’ll make sure not to come here to see the Christmas display then.”
“Colonel,” McKay hummed nervously as he watched Scar’s rapidly waning patience come close to the snapping point. “Perhaps we should just apologize and be on our way?”
“You know, I think you may be right Rodney. Sorry guys, our bad.” He waved amicably and started to move away. “All right, see ya!”
Bertha forcefully shoved between his shoulder blades. He winced and shrugged at McKay. “It was worth a shot.”
“If we stay here much longer *Carus, the Deimos are sure to return,” Bow-Man said to Scar, eyeing the sky worriedly.
“You’re right Arash. Bring the strangers. We’ll deal with them once we return to the village.” Carus nodded to the Behemoth woman with the gun. “Morven, take his weapon, just in case he tries anything. Arash, you keep an eye on the noisy one.”
“Hey!” Rodney bristled as Arash yanked him by the arm, separating him and Sheppard. “I’m just expressing my opinion!”
“Express it quieter,” Arash’s free hand fell to a sheathed knife. “Understand?”
McKay gulped. “Clear.”
* * * * *
Morven, who still reminded Sheppard of the giant fish from all the Mario Brothers games, not only kept a close eye on the colonel, but she refused to move her gun from his back. So he was forced to walk with the uncomfortable sensation of a muzzle pressed against his spine, and he wasn’t so sure he trusted anyone who resembled a video game villain not to slip and shoot his spine, especially on the torn up streets of the city.
Apparently they were taking the most direct way out, which meant climbing through all of the rubble left by the Wraith’s attack. And there was a lot of it at that. The place was absolutely torn apart, and Sheppard could swear he could see fresh scorch marks on some of the walls that hadn’t been obliterated.
He glanced over at McKay, who was marching in front of his assigned keeper stoically. He was starting to regret his haste to start his search for Ronon and Teyla, especially now that they had met up with some more of the locals. If he had let the scientist study a few of the panels he might have been able to shed at least a little light on what had happened to them.
Too late for what-ifs now though. He was still looking for a possibility of escape, but fish lady was sharp as a tack, and didn’t give him any openings. That, and he had McKay to worry about. So he trodded along silently, since the last time he had attempted a light conversation with McKay, Carus had made some comment about removing voice boxes, or something equally barbaric.
Most of the destruction of the city seemed to be concentrated on the center, most urbanized area of the city. As they reached the outskirts the crowded buildings began spacing out, and the piles of rubble became more recognizable as something other than crumbled stone and metal. The cracked pavement gave way to grass, and soon they had left the buildings that stood like sentries, and the horizon was filled with the tall hill that marked the edge of the valley.
Upon reaching the open area, their captors grew more agitated and their pace more rapid as the gun dug further into this back as if Morven had to prove her displeasure. He heard McKay grunt, and glanced over to see him struggling to keep with the ruthless pace that Arash was setting. Rodney caught his gaze and rolled his eyes to illustrate his feelings on the turn of events.
With a light shake of his head, Sheppard returned his attention to moving forward and not being skewered on the barrel of Morven’s gun. His quads burned as he practically jogged up the steep incline, and he could only imagine what sort of complaints McKay would be spouting out had this been a normal mission.
Finally they crested the hill, and Sheppard bent forward, resting his hands on his knees. Around him the rest of the party was breathing heavily. He took the opportunity of their lax guard to wander over to McKay, glad when he didn’t feel something jabbed into his back for trying to do so.
McKay’s breaths came in heavy and sweat dripped off his forehead. He glanced up through sweaty eyelashes, acknowledging the colonel’s presence. “I hate this.”
“Not too fond of it myself,” Sheppard agreed, eyes wandering back to their captors, taking a moment to strategically analyze their opponents. Carus was obviously the leader of the group of roughly ten men and women, all of whom were dressed in similar attire to Arash. They had an odd assortment of weapons, mostly the basic fundamentals they were use to encountering on other worlds: knives, bows and arrows, but they were interspersed with more advanced weaponry that was closer to theirs. One even had a gun that looked remarkably similar to Ronon’s, although Sheppard could tell that it wasn’t the runner’s gun, as its handle was completely different.
“They’re an odd bunch, I’ll give them that,” he muttered, mostly so he wouldn’t attract attention to the fact that he and Rodney were together and speaking. “How are you holding up?”
“Just peachy,” McKay panted before hauling himself up. “Just peachy…”
“Just stay alert. We’ll find an opportunity to make a run for it soon, and book it for the Gate and get Atlantis’s help on tracking down Ronon and Teyla.”
“Right…” McKay nodded, looking up at the sky. His eyes widened and his face paled.
“Rodney? What?” John asked, alarmed.
“You know your ugly statue?” McKay pointed a shaky finger to the horizon.
“What about it?” Sheppard looked to where McKay was pointing, but only saw trees.
“Isn’t it supposed to be staring at us right now?”
“Son of a bitch,” Sheppard muttered. “That’s not good.”
The statue was gone.