McKay gestured erratically. “Lots of reasons. That personal shield might interfere with any device emitting a signal. Or the device might interfere with the shield. We have no idea how compatible his version of the gene is with the real thing, and those shields are highly attuned to whoever’s wearing them.” He added in exasperation, “And just where is everybody? Didn’t you go down there to get the Wraith stunners—”
“Yes. Bates is getting our people out of—”
“What about me? Us? We need to be rescued too!”
“You need to wait your turn, Rodney.” The air was getting dank, and it was laced with the odor of stale seawater. Somewhere off in the dark corridors there were doors that were permanently sealed, deep shafts jammed with sand and sea wrack, rooms full of strange equipment that no longer operated. John knew this section fairly well; they weren’t far from the passage out to the grounding station McKay had blown up. He didn’t think Teyla had been through here before, and the way she kept trying to take direct routes suggested that Dorane was giving her instructions instead of simply commanding her to return to him and letting her find her own way. Hopefully that was because she was still trying to resist him.
McKay caught John’s arm, saying, “About the waiting thing.” He sounded worried and deeply uncomfortable. “That drug Dorane gave you, he said — He’s probably lying, but he said—”
John pulled free and kept walking. “Rodney, I know, Beckett scanned me. And if Dorane said how long it would be, don’t tell me, all right? I don’t want to be looking at a clock while I’m doing this.”
“Wait, wait!” Rodney caught up, staring at him incredulously. “Carson knows about this and he didn’t do anything?”
“Like what? He didn’t have any time.”
“I can’t believe that! He’s supposed to be so damn brilliant and he just let you walk out of there—”
“Rodney, for God’s sake, shut up about it!” After a short curve the corridor opened into a walkway over a larger chamber. “And shut up, period. You want her to hear you?” The few working emergency lights made the big space look as if it was etched in black and silver, and John could see it was empty. He paused before stepping out onto the walkway, trying to get his bearings. Teyla was past this point, down and to the right somewhere in the other corridor that led off the lower level of this room.
“Who? I don’t even know what we’re doing!” McKay whispered furiously.
“We’re looking for Teyla.” John thought he had said that already, but even in panic mode, McKay wouldn’t have forgotten or misheard a piece of information as vital as that. It scared John the way nothing else had so far; they didn’t have much time to pull this off, and he couldn’t afford to lose his concentration. He started across the walkway, not wanting McKay to notice the moment of uncertainty. “I think Dorane gave her the device.”
Fortunately, McKay had too many other things to panic about to notice. “How are we going to get it away from her? You don’t even have a gun.”
“That part’s a little fuzzy,” John admitted.
“Oh, God. This is a woman who puts on a dress to beat the crap out of you in that stupid stick fighting, and now you’re dying, how are you going to—”
“Rodney, can we go, I don’t know, maybe a minute without you reminding me that I’m dying? And you really need to shut up.” John found the stairway down to the lower level of the room and started down it. He stopped abruptly and McKay bumped into him from behind. “She’s coming back.” There were two doors in that lower corridor that he distinctly remembered were wedged open, the metal around them buckled when the pressure from the sea had hit this section. After that he thought the corridor led back into the powered portion of the wing, but the fire-control must have blocked her path again.
John turned, and McKay scrambled back up the stairs.
John pushed him in the direction of the sheltered corridor access, and McKay hurried back along the walkway in the dark. He stopped at the doorway, flattening himself against the wall, and John crouched down where he was, at the head of the stairs, trying to fold in on himself and blend in with the darkness and the silvery material of the walkway.
He felt ridiculously exposed, and it was hard to remember that for Teyla and McKay, the emergency lighting was barely existent and the room was almost as dark as a moonless night. An instant later he heard her footsteps, the light tread of her boots on the metal. She wasn’t bothering to be quiet; Dorane probably hadn’t thought to give that order.
John stopped breathing when he heard her come up through the doorway below. She started up the stairs, and he grimaced. He had been hoping she would cross the room on the lower level and he could drop down on her from above.
She reached the top of the stairs and started to turn back toward the corridor access. John launched himself at her the same instant she must have sensed his presence. She was turning toward him, lifting her P-90 when he slammed into her. They hit the walkway, John on top, flattening the gun to her chest. The device was right there pressed between them, in the lower right hand pocket of her tac vest, the bastardized ATA sending a jolt of pain right through John’s head. He felt her fingers scrabbling for the P-90’s trigger and used his claws to rip through the cord holding it around her neck. He jerked it out of her grasp and lifted up just enough to fling it off the balcony.
She took advantage of the moment to roll them both, knocking him sideways into the railing and trying to shove him under the lower rail. Sinking his claws into her tac vest kept him from going off the walkway, and he got the heel of his hand under her chin and pushed her back. Then it was a mad scramble, with Teyla trying to do as much damage as possible and tear herself away, and John trying to hold on and get to the controller. Then he twisted in the wrong direction to duck a blow to the throat, and she tried to plant a knee in his groin. John writhed desperately to avoid it, but managed to keep one hand hooked in her vest. She clawed the pistol out of her holster, but John went for the device instead, ripping it out of her pocket. She cried out, shrill and pain-filled, and dropped the pistol, grabbing for the device.
Then McKay yanked it out of John’s hand, slamming it against the walkway to get the case open and ripping the crystals out.
Teyla froze, gave a heartfelt gasp of relief, and collapsed on top of John. He slumped, letting his head fall back, taking a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” McKay asked, hovering anxiously over them. “Is she okay? Teyla?”
Teyla was a warm weight, limp and utterly still. “I think she’s out.” John rolled her off, McKay catching her and helping him ease her down onto the walkway. John pushed himself up on one elbow and felt for the pulse in her neck; it was strong, and she seemed to be breathing normally. He just hoped she wasn’t in a coma, that they hadn’t just given everybody under the influence of the control drug brain damage.
McKay nodded, relieved. “If this means everybody he gave that drug to just collapsed, then all we have is the Koan to worry about.” He winced. “And I said that like it was a happy thought.”
“It is a happy thought. The Koan we can shoot.” John pushed himself up, grabbing the railing and leaning on it until he could stand up straight again. He found the pistol on the walkway, checked the clip and put the safety on, then tucked it into the back of his belt. He reached down for Teyla. “Help me with her. Dorane knows her last position and we need to get out of here.”