![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
TITLE: Partnership
SUMMARY: John and Teyla under fire to gain a treasure of the Ancients.
CATEGORY: gen, action-adventure, drama
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: More details of the story in Part 1.
Part 2
The gold was the sand of the arena and the sun reflecting off a set of bronzed panels right to where John was standing.
Teyla stepped forward. "John?"
"Actually, John's not here right now. I'm his evil twin."
She chuckled. "I believe you may need a break from Rodney."
"Everyone could do with a holiday from Rodney. Including Rodney." John took a quick survey of where they'd come out. It didn't look like the same area they'd gone in. He began fishing the compass out of his jacket pocket. "What did you do to get out?"
Teyla's hand closed over his, startling him, but she was only taking the compass from his hands, and after a moment's frozen surprise, he let her take it.
"You should take the weapon," Teyla explained, quite unaware of the way the hairs on his arms had suddenly gone to goosebumps. "You are the better shot."
"Thanks," he said, getting the weapon out as well. Just how he'd come to be carrying both, he couldn't remember anymore. But he certainly couldn't use both.
Teyla looked up from the compass with a wicked twist to her smile. "If they see us, they will shoot for you first."
"Thanks."
They started out, with John leading the way, and Teyla guiding him with a word or a touch on his shoulder or back as they made their way through the maze of junk and bits and pieces that formed the arena. As they walked along an alleyway of sandstone, complete with cathedral-like niches in which statues of saints, John wondered which culture had originally owned this - and how the Combori had brought it here.
"The designs on the wall of the sanctuary were from the Syitah ruins," Teyla said, her voice echoing against the stone.
"Huh?"
"You asked what I did to get out," she said, her footsteps crunching behind him in the sand. "The Syitah were a race that were once allied with Athos, generations and generations ago. They also revered the Ancestors, but vanished one year without any sign of what happened."
"Vanished without a trace?"
"Yes. It is believed that the Wraith took them."
"But?" There was a 'but' in there. John could hear it.
"It is rare that a culling takes all, and there were no survivors. According to the stories passed down, there was no destruction to their village groups - it was as though they simply left everything behind them."
Behind John, the footsteps stopped. He turned, alarmed, but Teyla was simply staring at him, understanding on her face. "They achieved ascension."
"The Syitah."
"Yes." Her eyes were large and astonished. "I never thought it before..."
"You didn't know about it until we turned up," John pointed out. "And you've never come across Syitah stuff before."
Teyla started moving again, and John continued on, out of the sandstone passageway and along a wood-panelled alleyway that looked rather the worse for wear.
"I have never seen their designs anywhere but in the ruins - not until now. It was a design from their holy place - a symbol of their..." This time, there was a break in her voice, but not in her foosteps. "It was a symbol of their goal - an escape from the constraints of the world."
She said it with a kind of wonder, like someone finally seeing the light. John smiled to himself at the tone. It was rare to see her caught off-balance, amazed, although there had been a few moments over the years.
"Ascension."
"Yes."
"And you were curious, so you wandered over and touched it."
"Yes."
John paused. "Haven't I already had this conversation with Rodney?"
Her laugh rang out. "It is possible, Colonel. Clearly, I was not listening when you gave it."
He sighed, theatrically, and they moved on.
The going was easier now that he had something in his stomach. It might not have been as full a meal as John would have liked, but between the food, and the water he now carried over his shoulder, the situation was better than it had been.
In the next hour - according to John's internal time sense, they were attacked twice. Once as they passed between what looked like a scaled-down hull of the Starship Enterprise and a heat-slagged blob of something, and once as they came out into a wide open area, nearly as large as a colosseum.
The first time, Teyla hid while John picked off three men. Once he got the range and feel for the weapon, it was easy enough.
The second time, in the colosseum-like area, she played stalking horse while John played sniper. The suggestion was hers, and although John protested at first, she insisted.
Her protestation of "I will not get hit, John," wasn't exactly the most reassuring of endorsements, but John let her out - against his better judgement, it had to be added.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried.
She dodged and jinked her way through the clusters of junk that speared up from the sand, somehow avoiding being shot by the synapser guns, although he saw several shots miss her by narrow margins before he sighted the hunter trying to take her out and got a few of his own shots in.
The last of the 'white ninjas' seemed to have worked out what they were up to, and went for Teyla, one on one. He didn't have a chance.
She disposed of him quite neatly, relieving him of his weapon and taking him hostage behind a section of board. John scoped out the nearby areas, watching and waiting for any more attackers, listening for footsteps or movement from behind the junk piles.
When he was reasonably sure there wasn't anyone else waiting for them to come out into the clear, John stepped out and waved Teyla and her prisoner over.
"No, you can't take him home," John said, amused.
Teyla's arched brow might have indicated that she got the joke, or it might have indicated that she was questioning his sanity. "I believed that you had questions," she said to John.
"Good idea."
Although Rodney was the king of smug, there were times when John thought that Teyla did a creditable smirk. Nothing big or showy, just the faintest knowing quirk that said she was good and she knew it. "Thank you, Colonel."
John turned to the hunter, and pulled off the hood. "Sorry," he apologised as the man winced. "I prefer seeing who I'm interrogating."
"Okay." Although he squinted into the sun, the guy seemed nonchalant, resigned to being captured. "I'll answer what I can."
John hesitated.
The guy was bluff and hearty, square face, heavy jaw, needed a shave. John felt his own five o'clock shadow prickle and resisted the urge to rub his hand along his jaw. Cleanliness later; first, he had some questions he wanted answers to.
"I don't suppose you have any idea how much longer we're going to be doing this?"
The hunter shrugged white-swathed shoulders. "We're not told that."
"What are you told?"
"We're the hunters, you're the prey."
"How often are the hunters sent out after us?"
"One group every candlemark."
"How many to a group?" Teyla asked.
"One more each time."
Teyla nodded, as though it had answered a question of her own. John glanced at her, but her hair gleamed butter-caramel in the sunlight as she shook her head and ceded the interrogation back to John.
"How far are we from the end?"
The man hesitated, his eyes shifting away. "I'm not supposed to tell you."
Opening his mouth to ask another question, John caught the gleaming shake of Teyla's head. All right, fair enough.
"Pity." John eyed the man. "Do we have to shoot you to take you out of the running?"
Beetling brows rose, bushy over pale eyes. "You'd leave an enemy behind you?"
"It's not SOP, but it saves energy."
"SOP?"
John exchanged a look with Teyla. "Never mind," he said, stepping back so the stunner blast wouldn't hit him. "Shoot him."
The stunner noise tore through the air, but the man remained where he was and looked from the stunner to Teyla, to John, and back to the stunner.
John's own weapon was up a moment later, and he shot the guy, square in the head.
Nothing. No reaction, no response.
He had a moment in which he cursed the weapons that had failed to work, then Teyla moved in, prepared to take the man down physically.
The hunter deflected her first blow with ease, then returned one of his own.
As his hand slammed into Teyla's stomach, she froze.
It took John a moment to realise that the guy hadn't just hit Teyla in the stomach - he'd plunged his hand into Teyla's stomach - but without blood, guts, or breaking the skin.
It took John another moment to have the weapon up and pointed at the replicator.
--
Part 4
SUMMARY: John and Teyla under fire to gain a treasure of the Ancients.
CATEGORY: gen, action-adventure, drama
RATING: PG-13
NOTES: More details of the story in Part 1.
Part 2
Partnership
Part 3
Part 3
The gold was the sand of the arena and the sun reflecting off a set of bronzed panels right to where John was standing.
Teyla stepped forward. "John?"
"Actually, John's not here right now. I'm his evil twin."
She chuckled. "I believe you may need a break from Rodney."
"Everyone could do with a holiday from Rodney. Including Rodney." John took a quick survey of where they'd come out. It didn't look like the same area they'd gone in. He began fishing the compass out of his jacket pocket. "What did you do to get out?"
Teyla's hand closed over his, startling him, but she was only taking the compass from his hands, and after a moment's frozen surprise, he let her take it.
"You should take the weapon," Teyla explained, quite unaware of the way the hairs on his arms had suddenly gone to goosebumps. "You are the better shot."
"Thanks," he said, getting the weapon out as well. Just how he'd come to be carrying both, he couldn't remember anymore. But he certainly couldn't use both.
Teyla looked up from the compass with a wicked twist to her smile. "If they see us, they will shoot for you first."
"Thanks."
They started out, with John leading the way, and Teyla guiding him with a word or a touch on his shoulder or back as they made their way through the maze of junk and bits and pieces that formed the arena. As they walked along an alleyway of sandstone, complete with cathedral-like niches in which statues of saints, John wondered which culture had originally owned this - and how the Combori had brought it here.
"The designs on the wall of the sanctuary were from the Syitah ruins," Teyla said, her voice echoing against the stone.
"Huh?"
"You asked what I did to get out," she said, her footsteps crunching behind him in the sand. "The Syitah were a race that were once allied with Athos, generations and generations ago. They also revered the Ancestors, but vanished one year without any sign of what happened."
"Vanished without a trace?"
"Yes. It is believed that the Wraith took them."
"But?" There was a 'but' in there. John could hear it.
"It is rare that a culling takes all, and there were no survivors. According to the stories passed down, there was no destruction to their village groups - it was as though they simply left everything behind them."
Behind John, the footsteps stopped. He turned, alarmed, but Teyla was simply staring at him, understanding on her face. "They achieved ascension."
"The Syitah."
"Yes." Her eyes were large and astonished. "I never thought it before..."
"You didn't know about it until we turned up," John pointed out. "And you've never come across Syitah stuff before."
Teyla started moving again, and John continued on, out of the sandstone passageway and along a wood-panelled alleyway that looked rather the worse for wear.
"I have never seen their designs anywhere but in the ruins - not until now. It was a design from their holy place - a symbol of their..." This time, there was a break in her voice, but not in her foosteps. "It was a symbol of their goal - an escape from the constraints of the world."
She said it with a kind of wonder, like someone finally seeing the light. John smiled to himself at the tone. It was rare to see her caught off-balance, amazed, although there had been a few moments over the years.
"Ascension."
"Yes."
"And you were curious, so you wandered over and touched it."
"Yes."
John paused. "Haven't I already had this conversation with Rodney?"
Her laugh rang out. "It is possible, Colonel. Clearly, I was not listening when you gave it."
He sighed, theatrically, and they moved on.
The going was easier now that he had something in his stomach. It might not have been as full a meal as John would have liked, but between the food, and the water he now carried over his shoulder, the situation was better than it had been.
In the next hour - according to John's internal time sense, they were attacked twice. Once as they passed between what looked like a scaled-down hull of the Starship Enterprise and a heat-slagged blob of something, and once as they came out into a wide open area, nearly as large as a colosseum.
The first time, Teyla hid while John picked off three men. Once he got the range and feel for the weapon, it was easy enough.
The second time, in the colosseum-like area, she played stalking horse while John played sniper. The suggestion was hers, and although John protested at first, she insisted.
Her protestation of "I will not get hit, John," wasn't exactly the most reassuring of endorsements, but John let her out - against his better judgement, it had to be added.
As it turned out, he needn't have worried.
She dodged and jinked her way through the clusters of junk that speared up from the sand, somehow avoiding being shot by the synapser guns, although he saw several shots miss her by narrow margins before he sighted the hunter trying to take her out and got a few of his own shots in.
The last of the 'white ninjas' seemed to have worked out what they were up to, and went for Teyla, one on one. He didn't have a chance.
She disposed of him quite neatly, relieving him of his weapon and taking him hostage behind a section of board. John scoped out the nearby areas, watching and waiting for any more attackers, listening for footsteps or movement from behind the junk piles.
When he was reasonably sure there wasn't anyone else waiting for them to come out into the clear, John stepped out and waved Teyla and her prisoner over.
"No, you can't take him home," John said, amused.
Teyla's arched brow might have indicated that she got the joke, or it might have indicated that she was questioning his sanity. "I believed that you had questions," she said to John.
"Good idea."
Although Rodney was the king of smug, there were times when John thought that Teyla did a creditable smirk. Nothing big or showy, just the faintest knowing quirk that said she was good and she knew it. "Thank you, Colonel."
John turned to the hunter, and pulled off the hood. "Sorry," he apologised as the man winced. "I prefer seeing who I'm interrogating."
"Okay." Although he squinted into the sun, the guy seemed nonchalant, resigned to being captured. "I'll answer what I can."
John hesitated.
The guy was bluff and hearty, square face, heavy jaw, needed a shave. John felt his own five o'clock shadow prickle and resisted the urge to rub his hand along his jaw. Cleanliness later; first, he had some questions he wanted answers to.
"I don't suppose you have any idea how much longer we're going to be doing this?"
The hunter shrugged white-swathed shoulders. "We're not told that."
"What are you told?"
"We're the hunters, you're the prey."
"How often are the hunters sent out after us?"
"One group every candlemark."
"How many to a group?" Teyla asked.
"One more each time."
Teyla nodded, as though it had answered a question of her own. John glanced at her, but her hair gleamed butter-caramel in the sunlight as she shook her head and ceded the interrogation back to John.
"How far are we from the end?"
The man hesitated, his eyes shifting away. "I'm not supposed to tell you."
Opening his mouth to ask another question, John caught the gleaming shake of Teyla's head. All right, fair enough.
"Pity." John eyed the man. "Do we have to shoot you to take you out of the running?"
Beetling brows rose, bushy over pale eyes. "You'd leave an enemy behind you?"
"It's not SOP, but it saves energy."
"SOP?"
John exchanged a look with Teyla. "Never mind," he said, stepping back so the stunner blast wouldn't hit him. "Shoot him."
The stunner noise tore through the air, but the man remained where he was and looked from the stunner to Teyla, to John, and back to the stunner.
John's own weapon was up a moment later, and he shot the guy, square in the head.
Nothing. No reaction, no response.
He had a moment in which he cursed the weapons that had failed to work, then Teyla moved in, prepared to take the man down physically.
The hunter deflected her first blow with ease, then returned one of his own.
As his hand slammed into Teyla's stomach, she froze.
It took John a moment to realise that the guy hadn't just hit Teyla in the stomach - he'd plunged his hand into Teyla's stomach - but without blood, guts, or breaking the skin.
It took John another moment to have the weapon up and pointed at the replicator.
--
Part 4
no subject
no subject
The end...did not expect that! Tense and adds a whole new type of scariness.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
The end...did not expect that! Tense and adds a whole new type of scariness.
no subject
no subject
no subject