The colonel nosed the Puddle Jumper into a different attitude, and feathered the throttle. “I’m going to move us into a higher orbit. See if you can cast a wider net with the sensors, get a better angle on what happened up here.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, if this Aegis thing is blasting ships out of the sky?”
“We have something the Wraith don’t — a cloaking device.”
McKay blew out a breath. “Let’s hope that’s enough.”
When she came to again, Teyla had a firmer grip on wakefulness. She became aware that the aliens — the Risar — had brought her to a wide circular chamber, with an arching domed roof that mirrored the design of ship’s corridors. Her mind raced; she had a vague recollection of being taken from the surface of Heruun and transported the distance to the lunar surface, some faint impression of a silver craft, a cramped interior…
She shifted, moving carefully. They had left her on the floating platform used to bring her here; and there, across the chamber, was an identical platform and on it, Ronon Dex.
He was still, only his chest rising and falling. As she watched, one of the Risar approached him and worked the healing device over blackened patches of frostbite on his skin.
There were several of the humanoids in the chamber, some of them tending to wide, inswept consoles made of bronze and copper. They manipulated shapes and panes of light appeared in the air, showing images she did not recognize and streams of angular glyphs.
She studied the Risar for long moments, their movements and behavior. Like those they had glimpsed in the corridors, they did not correspond with one another, they simply went about their tasks, never crossing paths, always focused on their silent intention. Yet, some of them seemed different. Two of those she watched moved more slowly than the others, in the way of an elderly man whose joints were paining him. They seemed less able than the rest, and their skin tone was not the blue-green hue of the others, but a deep slate grey. They appeared, for want of a better word, sickly. Teyla filed the observation away for later consideration.
As she watched, a pair from the group gathered around the console closest to Ronon. With a whisper of metallic leaves, an iris aperture opened in the floor and a grey orb atop a jointed arm extended upward until it stood over the Satedan’s platform. One of the Risar manipulated a control and the orb rotated and shifted, coming around on itself until it hung above Ronon’s head. Teyla felt her pulse quicken, instinct warning her that whatever was to happen next, it would not be good.
Panels on the side of the orb opened to allow a forest of needle-thin probes to emerge, reaching toward Ronon’s face. He murmured in his enforced slumber, unaware of the threat.
“No!” Teyla shouted, and tried to force herself from the platform where she lay, ignoring the pain in her joints and the echo of nausea. She could not bring herself to sit up; although there were no physical restraints holding her down, the Athosian woman felt a sudden increase in gravity, a great invisible weight pressing on her chest. The Risar had some form of force field trapping her in place. Teyla mustered as much effort as she could, trying to find a breaking point, but for every ounce of strength she put against the invisible confinement, it was turned back against her tenfold.
One of the Risar detached from the group and approached her. “Desist,” it told her. “You may injure yourself.”
“Leave him alone!” she barked. “Do not hurt him!”
The Risar glanced in the direction of Ronon. “That has never been my intention. The male will not be harmed.” It cocked its head slightly. “You are greatly concerned for his wellbeing. Is he your mate?”
“He’s my friend!”
“Your friend will not be damaged by the regulation process.”
Regulation? The toneless way the alien said the word made Teyla’s blood run cold.
“It is a safety protocol,” continued the Risar. “It will prevent any further accidents or unauthorized sojourns. It is applied to all transients.”
The needles reached for Ronon, adjusting their position. The Taken sleep a long sleep and remember nothing. Laaro’s earlier words returned to her, along with a cold, sudden understanding. The docile, drone-like abductees they had come across in the corridors — this process was the means used to bring them to that state!
“Stop this!” she shouted, unable to do anything else.
The Risar peered at her and said nothing. Teyla heard the whisper of skin being pierced and reflexively looked away.
But only for a moment. A loud, abrupt roar sounded across the chamber and she turned to see Ronon Dex crying out, his back arching in agony. The Satedan’s hands clawed at the orb device, tearing at it in feral rage. The pain, she realized, it must have shocked him awake!
The Risar creatures hesitated, as if they were unsure how to proceed. “You said you would not hurt him,” Teyla snapped.
“This is…irregular,” admitted the creature.
Ronon punched at the orb and the device withdrew — but not quickly enough. The Satedan smashed a fist into it again and the machine stuttered. Warning chimes sounded from the console.
“Rejection,” stated the Risar at the console. “Physiology mismatch.”
Ronon was gasping, struggling to get up and failing just as Teyla had. She called to him and he saw her. He was pale and drawn, thin streaks of blood marking his face where the orb had injected him.
Another of the creatures, one of the less able of their number, moved closer to the Satedan. “Rejection,” it echoed, “this one is unusable and should be return —”
The alien never got the change to finish its sentence. With all his might, Ronon lashed out and grabbed the creature by the throat. The sheer stamina it must have taken to press through the gravity field between them was amazing.
Dex snarled in fury and the Risar’s neck gave a hollow cracking sound; the creature’s eyes went dull and it collapsed, falling to the metal deck.
For a long moment, Teyla expected the other Risar to react with violence in return, but they paid little interest to the fallen one of their number.
“Neutralize,” said the one at the console. It touched a control and a flicker of blue-white light enveloped Ronon. He managed to match gazes with Teyla for one final moment before he went slack and fell unconscious once again. Another Risar touched a control on the floating platform and guided Dex away, off through a low doorway across the chamber. After a moment, almost as an afterthought, one of the creatures gathered up the dead Risar and carried it into an antechamber.
Teyla glared at the alien that had spoken to her. “Where are you taking him?” The term ‘rejection’ carried with it the scent of something ominous and final. The Athosian woman had visions of Ronon being vented to space as if he were nothing more than waste material.
Her answer was a shifting of the platform that she lay upon. With growing apprehension, she tried to shrink back as the floating table moved to occupy the same position as Ronon’s had. The orb hovered nearby, another of the Risar examining it for damage.
“I will not submit to you!” she shouted, fighting to keep a tremor from her voice. “You will have to reject me too!”
The Risar that had spoken glanced at its twin beside the console. “Deep scan. There may be issue with the female as well.”
“Acknowledged,” came the reply.
The orb hove into place over Teyla’s head and halted. A thin slice of laser light issued from a slot on the surface of the sphere and traveled the length of her body; where it touched her she felt a peculiar tingle in her flesh. The sensor beam halted over her belly and her breath caught in her throat.
“Anomaly,” reported the Risar at the console. She was certain she could detect an air of surprise in the alien’s words. “Unexpected complexity detected.”