Stargate Atlantis -:- Endgame

Author's Note(s):

Okay, so far I am juggling the two fics quite well – I was worried that if I started the Vendetta then Endgame would get put on my hiatus list – but so far so good *touch wood* Thanks go to everyone who has read and/or reviewed this fic – and double thanks to those doing so to both :P I live for feedback so super thanks for feeding my ego lol

Anyway, onto this fic: our team is still stuck in the Ark facility on the doomed planet, the Apollo is en route but is going to be ridiculously late, Rodney's not doing so good – but it's okay: Sheppard's got a hangar full of Jumpers…

Chapter Eight -:- Salvation

SOLARIS: THE ARK FACILITY
24 Hours 40 Minutes and counting
[1100hours ALT]

"I knew it couldn't be that easy."

"Is there a problem?" Lance was immediately by John's shoulder, following his line of sight as if he actually understood the Ancient tech. John resisted the urge to shove him away and lecture him about personal space.

"Several. Where would you like me to start?" John channelled his inner-Rodney, even to the point of using the click-and-point hand gestures. He was glad that the astrophysicist wasn't there to see. "There are eight Jumpers here, and all of them have problems. Only two have power, three are missing drive pods, one's damaged beyond all recognition and I can tell you for definite that that gaping hole right there makes that Jumper incredibly un-space worthy." John pointed at the Jumper's in turn taking his prognosis mainly from his connection with Ancient tech and common sense rather than any in-depth knowledge.

Lance had watched the rant with a strange expression of confused awe, and for a few moments after, he did nothing but stare. Then he blinked slowly. "And what does that mean?"

"In a nutshell, I really hope that you were telling the truth about helping Rodney, or no one is getting off this planet." As it stood, they would be lucky if they could get one Jumper working, meaning that the thirty-or-so people, that he had so far seen, were not likely to get a seat. For now, John was just pleased to have a way to save his team – if it came to a toss-up between the Solarians or them; the team would win every time. He decided to keep that little nugget to himself though, instead watching Lance's reaction to see whether or not he was right to have trusted the man with his resident genius. "Where is he?"

Lance smiled then, and John wasn't sure if it was that that creeped him out, or just Lance. "Then there is nothing to worry about. Sana McKay will be as good as new around about…" he checked his time piece "…oh, now. Shall we go?"

John hid his reaction to the miraculous time frame of the recovery, putting that down to what he knew of the planet. These people were in a constant state of war, and Earth history showed that that was when the most medical process was made. The Solarians were probably decades ahead of them in that respect. "What about the rest of my team?"

"They will be fine with my sister for now," Lance shrugged, leaving the sentence a little too ambiguous for John's liking. He didn't push the issue though and just followed the Solarian back to the transporter and up into the Ark Facility.

"What's going on?" Ronon demanded forcefully, pacing the length of what he considered to be their new cell. They were in what Lance had called the guest quarters; a tastefully decorated, comfortable space. Ronon just saw it as a prison with throw-pillows.

Dawn watched him warily, like a tamer trapped in the lion's cage. She kept herself a careful distance away, not sure if he was frustrated by her or the situation. She felt almost as if she were a captive too, her brother's sudden decision leaving her in the dark while she essentially babysat the aliens. She glanced over at Teyla who stood by the panorama window, her posture tense although she was doing all she could to appear casual. Through the glass there was a grand view in to the hangar below, where Dawn had seen the Ninth for the first time. What other secrets had her brother been keeping from her?

"Why did he only take Sheppard? Where's McKay? What are you people up to?" Ronon continued, glaring at her as he spoke. Teyla made no move to calm him, and Dawn suspected that she was thinking the exact same questions.

"I-I do not know…" Dawn replied with a nervous shrug. "I do not know where they have gone, or what my brother was thinking…I did not even know of that craft…I…" she trailed off, concern, fear and an odd sense of betrayal making her doubt herself. Ronon gave her another glare for her lack of useful input. "I do know that my brother promised to help Dr McKay, so he will be fine very soon."

"Oh, you 'know' that, do you?" Ronon was clearly reaching the end of his tether, the stoic silence she had observed of his behaviour seeming to disintegrate into outward frustration. He paused in his pacing, simply taking a step towards her. "How? How do you know that he didn't just say that to get Sheppard to co-operate? How do you know that they don't just have McKay locked up somewhere else? You don't seem to know much, so why do you know that?"

Teyla was staring at him now, her expression somewhere between totally agreeing with him and surprise at his use of several consecutive complete sentences. Dawn staggered a step back, holding up her hands defensively. She much preferred the silent treatment to this. "Th-there is no reason why he would not help."

"There is no reason why he would." Ronon countered without missing a beat. He then resumed pacing, effectively ending the conversation. Dawn looked to Teyla for help, but the Athosian simply turned to look out the window.

Suddenly Dawn felt very alone.

THE APOLLO: FLIGHT DECK
16 Hours 40 Minutes and counting

"We are still twenty-four hours out, sir," Major Samson, the ship's pilot, reported from Ellis' left. "The hyperdrive is at maximum output and all unnecessary systems have been shut down to improve efficiency. Engineering reports that this is our top possible speed."

Ellis nodded, knowing that he was pushing his ship miles beyond her limits. The massive achievement of gaining the speed with which they currently carved through the void seemed belittled though, and Ellis felt a stab of irritation. He knew that when he made his check-in with Atlantis Colonel Carter would give him the same, disappointed expression she had the last time. Part of him understood, and he did not envy her position, but he did not appreciate the slight accusation in her eyes as if it were his fault he was held back by the laws of physics. But this was not the time for that, and he cleared the notion from both his face and tone. "Get Atlantis on the horn."

"Yes sir," Samson replied automatically, and a few moments later the consoles and gate techs of Atlantis' Stargate Operations room materialised on the screen before them. And then Colonel Carter appeared.

"Have you received any word from Colonel Sheppard, yet?" she immediately asked, any and all formality forgotten. There was a tiny glimmer of false hope in her eyes, but she remained as outwardly professional as she could.

"Not yet, colonel," Ellis replied, watching the light fade. No, he definitely did not envy her position. "And we are still twenty-four hours out from their last known position at best possible speed."

Carter looked away from a second, and Ellis felt the slight irritance double into outright annoyance. Before he could say anything however, Carter looked back to the screen and spoke. "You are making good time, colonel. You're crew must be working very hard." She paused again, as if looking for the rights words. "Thank you for doing this, Abe."

There was the recognition he had been silently craving. Instantly, he felt terrible for all the petty thoughts he had had – almost as if he had been forced to eat the words that in all honesty, he had never verbalised. He gave a short nod in acknowledgment, and received a half-smile in reply. "We'll check-in again in six hours, colonel. Apollo out."

Ellis stood from his chair once the transmission ended and then turned to Samson. "I'll be in Engineering, send for me the moment anything changes."

"Yes sir."

Maybe it was about time that he put that Mechanical Engineering degree to good use.

SOLARIS: THE ARK FACILITY
23 Hours 10 Minutes and counting

"Are you sure you're alright, McKay?" Sheppard asked…again.

Rodney didn't even bother to look up this time, his attention entirely on his recently reclaimed tablet PC from his confiscated vest Lance had thoughtfully returned. The pair of them were in the most-likely-to-ever-fly Jumper's cockpit, Lance hovering uncomfortably close. Rodney could feel John's eyes boring into the back of his head. Jesus, it was like the man had never seen medical voodoo before. "Yes, John, I'm fine."

To be honest, he had found it incredibly disorientating to go from a fever induced haze to waking up in some strange medical facility, a barely visible scar in the place a metal pole had occupied mere hours before, but he had bigger things to think about now – like their one and only ticket off this ticking time bomb. The Jumpers were not in good condition, and anyone without his level of genius and skill would never be able to get any of them off the ground. But he was Dr Rodney McKay, and pulling of scientific miracles in a ridiculous time limit was his speciality.

Sheppard was still hovering. In his peripheral vision Rodney could see him passing Lance a wary glance. He couldn't say he blamed him, the Solarian scientist was creeping him out as well. There was just something about him that just wasn't quite right. Rodney continued to stab at the touch screen, occasionally pulling out a crystal as he worked. "So, where are Ronon and Teyla?"

"They are safe."

Rodney caught the distrustful expression on Sheppard's face from Lance's reply and caught on to the status quo pretty quickly. It wasn't an outright hostage situation, but he knew that it wouldn't take much.

"Can you fix these machines?" Lance asked, changing the subject after the short, tense silence.

McKay snorted indignantly. "Can I fix…? There's not a chance in hell that at least six of them will ever fly; this one has no inertial dampeners or life support and the power to the left drive pod is intermittent at best and the other has no auxiliary systems or communications and might I point out the massive hull breach on the right side which is very bad." He paused for a second at Lance's clueless expression. "Wait – do you even know that space is a vacuum? As in, horrible, painful death?"

Lance was doing that awed/confused stare again, and Sheppard helpfully decided to translate. "He can get one to fly by cannibalising parts from the others. Maybe."

"Then we have another problem."

The silence in the guest quarters was broken by an ominous rumbling from far below them. The three of them froze as the floor beneath their feet began to move, the glass of the panorama window rattling in its frame. Delicate ornaments around the room were shaken loose from their fittings or shuffled off of the edge of tables, the sound of smashing glass adding to the throaty roar of the ground.

Gradually the tremor came to an end, leaving the silence once again in its wake. The occurrence had almost become a normalcy, even for the strangers to Solaris, but Dawn knew that something was wrong. She climbed back to her feet and up to the window, looking down on the craft below. There was an agitation among the workers that never usually occurred after a tremor and Dawn looked from them to her time piece. "No."

Teyla, who had remained perfectly poised on her own feet during the quake, was beside her in seconds. "What is it?"

"It is too early…" Dawn whispered fearfully. She then swallowed and looked around at the pair of them. "The tremors should not have started yet, not until closer to the end. We should still have a day..."

"What do you mean 'should'?" Ronon asked with just a hint of impatience.

"The timeline…" Dawn began, and then backtracked. "This area does not usually have any seismic activity – that is why it is predicted as the last place to go and as such is the safest place on the continent. But if the tremors have already started…we might only have a few hours…"

"Yeah, that's a pretty big problem."

John felt like Murphy was working overtime this mission to make sure that every single one of his laws was followed. Just when things might work out – something else had to come along to set things back again. Sadistic bastard.

He and Lance now stood in what would once have been the launch tunnel that connected the Jumper bay of the underground facility to the outside world. Now, about half way through, a cave-in of epic proportions blocked the way, the red sand of the desert above filling the tube from roof to floor. Who knew how big the blockage was, or if there was even any more of the tunnel left. But it was worth a try – how else were they going to get Rodney's Franken-Jumper out?

"Right, you've got what, thirty-plus guys up top?" John gestured at the indoor sandcastle. "We've got about a day left, so if we get them digging now we might be able to get it clear in time…what?"

"No." Lance insisted, his arms folded across his chest. "They cannot come down here. They cannot know of this place. Besides, they are busy completing the Ninth."

John furrowed his brow at him in confusion. "Wait…the ship that can't fly? Why have you…? You're planet is about to be destroyed, and as far as I can tell you're the guy in charge now – what are you doing making the last of your people waste their time with that?"

"I have seen the size of the craft, Sheppard," Lance replied quietly, staring straight ahead, arms still folded. "There are fifty-seven people in the facility, not including you, your team, my sister and myself. How do you suppose I tell them that I might be able to save a handful of them? How do you suppose I go about choosing that handful? It is better that they do not know – that they believe that they can all be saved if they finish the Ninth. There has to be another way out of the craft bay."

"So you can save yourself." John muttered.

Lance gave a short bark of laughter at that. "Is that not just a little hypocritical of you? Were you not thinking of just taking your team in the craft and leaving us behind?" John didn't answer. "Would you swap a seat on that craft for one of my people? Would you leave behind a friend to save a stranger? No. You wouldn't."

"I will admit, my people come first," John said forcefully, turning on Lance. "But there is room for eighteen people in that Jumper; and not a single seat will be empty when we leave. I will save as many as I can of your people – will you?"

The two men stared each other down for a moment after that, the question reverberating around the dark tunnel and coming back to haunt them like the voice of conscience. And then a different sound came roaring around them – the ground moving beneath their feet. More sand from above added to the cave-in before them, the gaping hole growing.

"Crap!" John shouted over the din, grabbing a hold of Lance's shoulder. "We've got to go!"

Taking the hint, Lance began moving of his own accord, pushing ahead of John as the pair of them began running back towards the Jumper bay. All the while the ground continued to shake and the ceiling continued to collapse, the shower of debris seeming to be constantly right behind them despite how fast or far they ran. It was then that John's body decided to remind him of the shape he was in; his shoulder throbbing with a fresh wave of pain as exhausted muscles were forced into action. He was losing ground, the gap between him and Lance getting longer, while the gap between him and the waterfall of sand kept getting shorter. Where was adrenaline when you needed it?

But he was still moving, even after the ground stopped shaking. The roof was still coming down regardless, and the two of them ran the distance to the Jumper bay. Through some miracle, John managed to keep going, skidding through the doors just as Lance was closing them – the sand still chasing them like it was creature desperate to consume them. Thankfully only a small amount managed to get through before the bulk of the desert was trapped behind closed doors.

"What the hell was that?" Rodney greeted them from the back of the Jumper, only a few feet away from where they left him. Lance was staring at the sand on the ground with a strange expression while John was trying to get his breath back, so it took a moment for him to get an answer.

"We…just lost…our one way…outta here…" John sagged against the door both in defeat and exhaustion, his good hand clamped over the bullet wound that was bleeding afresh from the exercise.

"No, it is worse than that," Lance whispered as if he were in a state of shock. Both John and Rodney gave him a look as if to say 'really, worse than being trapped on a planet about to be destroyed?' "That was a tremor. This area is becoming unstable. I told you that the timeline was completely fictional, we don't have a day – we have a few hours at best."

It took a moment for that to sink in, the hangar left in total silence. Then Sheppard gave the door a frustrated kick

"Oh come on!"

I told you the positive chapter ending wouldn't last long – I'm just too cruel to allow them to be in the clear for long :P (and just so you know – I'm the sadistic bastard known as Murphy in this story lol)

As a side note, for those interested; I am about to start writing Chapter 2 of the Vendetta – it should be up in the next couple of days! See you then (or the next chap of this fic…again, whichever comes first :P)