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icarusWhere did this come from?
It's dark. Very, very dark. There is death.
The Stars Look Very Different Today
by Icarus
The bay doors clanged against the hull; a controlled crash. Hydraulic claws reached out and clamped onto the spinning metal tube. They’d established synchronous orbit, the momentum carrying them forward around it in a long circle looking out into yawning blackness and then down at the reddish planet below.
John felt empty and helpless without Ancient controls.
Through the bubble of his spacesuit, he glanced over at Zelenka, who shook his head slowly, the reflected blue lights from read-outs blurring his face. No atmosphere inside the elongated tube that had once been an Ancient space station. Rodney had been so excited about it; finally, Ancient technology that was advanced, yet not out of reach. They’d had the Daedalus last time they were here. Now they had to cut their way in.
He’d hate that.
John took a shuddering breath and grabbed a torch, joining the work crew. He needed to do something because command was a bitch.
Yellow and blue-white sparks flew in a satisfying spray, and he only had to be told once by a tech to not let them land on his suit. He didn’t know why he didn’t care if he did, but he did what he was told with a sharp nod, mouth in a firm line. The tech was a tall guy with watery blue eyes who edged back with a worried up and down glance as he watched John a fraction longer than necessary, before returning to his own work.
The worst part was the Ancient shielding. It had blocked all communications. “Yes, well, you’ll all have to wait with bated breath,” Rodney had said smugly. “I intend to take this place apart, piece by instructive little piece.”
Rodney couldn’t have known why they left. The Wraith attack and his recall back to command Atlantis, for the Daedalus to protect the city. Their failed attempt to tow the space station when they couldn’t lock onto any life signs.
“Maybe taking it apart’s not such a good idea with you in it,” John had joked.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Rodney had griped back, though his sideways smirk had spoiled the effect. “You just stay here and envy me.”
He had envied Rodney a little, though itched with curiosity was probably a better description. But there was only room for three men and “Much as you once dreamed of being a little scientist with your sixth grade chemistry set, Sheppard, I need actual competence, not smart-mouth remarks.”
The metal plate shifted under their hands as they broke through. The metal glow vanished instantly but Sheppard didn’t touch it. They’d been warned that it would stay hot even if there was no oxygen to keep the edges glowing orange-red. Using huge tongs, two technicians tugged at the slab, wires trailing and snapping with delicate flashes like tiny fireflies dying.
No life signs didn’t mean anything. If anyone could figure a way off the space station, Rodney could. John half expected to find the capsule empty.
Their makeshift doorway peeled back, he led the way, weapon ready, just in case. The headlamp in his spacesuit splashed light on metal walls.
Two men in blue uniforms were sprawled on the floor and John’s mind chose that moment to come up with a smart aleck remark, wondering whether or not they were given names -- a Trek reference Rodney would get. John brushed it away.
Rodney was slumped over the console, seated in the only chair, his head pillowed on his arms as if asleep. John stepped closer, leaned, but then couldn’t bring himself to touch him, didn’t want that confirmation, wanted to pretend a moment that Rodney would be blinking sleepy eyes as he stretched awake, asking, “What took you so long?”
“I’m sorry, Rodney,” John would explain, “We had this little problem with the Wraith.”
“I thought you didn’t leave people behind.”
“I don’t. I came back. But I followed orders this time.”
“Oh really? How’s that working out for you?” He would cross his arms accusingly. But Rodney just stayed where he was, unmoving, still sprawled across the Ancient controls, his PDA clutched in one hand. He’d probably worked until the last second. The men behind John waited, their flashlights searching across the scene.
John answered Rodney aloud. “Pretty much the same.”
If you ask, I'll upload the David Bowie song from the title.
It's dark. Very, very dark. There is death.
The Stars Look Very Different Today
by Icarus
The bay doors clanged against the hull; a controlled crash. Hydraulic claws reached out and clamped onto the spinning metal tube. They’d established synchronous orbit, the momentum carrying them forward around it in a long circle looking out into yawning blackness and then down at the reddish planet below.
John felt empty and helpless without Ancient controls.
Through the bubble of his spacesuit, he glanced over at Zelenka, who shook his head slowly, the reflected blue lights from read-outs blurring his face. No atmosphere inside the elongated tube that had once been an Ancient space station. Rodney had been so excited about it; finally, Ancient technology that was advanced, yet not out of reach. They’d had the Daedalus last time they were here. Now they had to cut their way in.
He’d hate that.
John took a shuddering breath and grabbed a torch, joining the work crew. He needed to do something because command was a bitch.
Yellow and blue-white sparks flew in a satisfying spray, and he only had to be told once by a tech to not let them land on his suit. He didn’t know why he didn’t care if he did, but he did what he was told with a sharp nod, mouth in a firm line. The tech was a tall guy with watery blue eyes who edged back with a worried up and down glance as he watched John a fraction longer than necessary, before returning to his own work.
The worst part was the Ancient shielding. It had blocked all communications. “Yes, well, you’ll all have to wait with bated breath,” Rodney had said smugly. “I intend to take this place apart, piece by instructive little piece.”
Rodney couldn’t have known why they left. The Wraith attack and his recall back to command Atlantis, for the Daedalus to protect the city. Their failed attempt to tow the space station when they couldn’t lock onto any life signs.
“Maybe taking it apart’s not such a good idea with you in it,” John had joked.
“It’s a figure of speech,” Rodney had griped back, though his sideways smirk had spoiled the effect. “You just stay here and envy me.”
He had envied Rodney a little, though itched with curiosity was probably a better description. But there was only room for three men and “Much as you once dreamed of being a little scientist with your sixth grade chemistry set, Sheppard, I need actual competence, not smart-mouth remarks.”
The metal plate shifted under their hands as they broke through. The metal glow vanished instantly but Sheppard didn’t touch it. They’d been warned that it would stay hot even if there was no oxygen to keep the edges glowing orange-red. Using huge tongs, two technicians tugged at the slab, wires trailing and snapping with delicate flashes like tiny fireflies dying.
No life signs didn’t mean anything. If anyone could figure a way off the space station, Rodney could. John half expected to find the capsule empty.
Their makeshift doorway peeled back, he led the way, weapon ready, just in case. The headlamp in his spacesuit splashed light on metal walls.
Two men in blue uniforms were sprawled on the floor and John’s mind chose that moment to come up with a smart aleck remark, wondering whether or not they were given names -- a Trek reference Rodney would get. John brushed it away.
Rodney was slumped over the console, seated in the only chair, his head pillowed on his arms as if asleep. John stepped closer, leaned, but then couldn’t bring himself to touch him, didn’t want that confirmation, wanted to pretend a moment that Rodney would be blinking sleepy eyes as he stretched awake, asking, “What took you so long?”
“I’m sorry, Rodney,” John would explain, “We had this little problem with the Wraith.”
“I thought you didn’t leave people behind.”
“I don’t. I came back. But I followed orders this time.”
“Oh really? How’s that working out for you?” He would cross his arms accusingly. But Rodney just stayed where he was, unmoving, still sprawled across the Ancient controls, his PDA clutched in one hand. He’d probably worked until the last second. The men behind John waited, their flashlights searching across the scene.
John answered Rodney aloud. “Pretty much the same.”
If you ask, I'll upload the David Bowie song from the title.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-08 07:45 am (UTC)The best thing here is that it isn't angst and darkness just for angst and darkness sake. Instead it is drawn out of a situation that is as unlucky and realistic as all bad things are in life.
So, bring on the other four. :P