Sam did a final check up of her supplies, and, after making sure that her pack was unmolested by any of Jack’s “little surprises,” she made her way to the city’s control room, and began the long game of waiting.
The supplies that Lorne and his crew were bringing in were critical for a number of reasons. Supplies had been, to put it generously, spread rather thin. To put it not-so-generously, the Atlantean supplies had been exhausted to a near-breaking point after a sudden attempt by massive attempt by the Genii to seize the city about two months ago. Fortunately, the Genii were not exactly known for modern tactics, and that human waves were shockingly ineffective. Still, their sheer number had left the city miserably ill-equipped as yet another Genii siege ran it’s course. Fortunately, even one as stubborn and ruthless as the Genii chief, Koyla, had to realize that he had spent far too much blood and flesh for so little gain, and eventually backed off.
And THAT was the only thing that had saved the city, for the city had less then 1,000 rounds of small arms ammunition, 18 grenades, and not a single remaining Anti-Tank shell left. And in a city that housed roughly 5,000 scientists, engineers, aliens, and men and women in uniform, one can see the trouble. If Koyla had pressed the attack, the city would have fallen after using every single bullet and slowly but surely died out in hand to hand combat. And if by any chance Koyla had decided that he had regrouped enough to try again, or the Wraith decided it would be a good idea to try to reach the planet of “rich harvests” through the Atlantis gate again, then there would have been no stopping them for very long.
Thankfully, the half-month long siege had been followed by a surprisingly tranquil period of time. All off-world travel save for necessity was banned, as was the use of the firing range due to the fear of worsening the already strained supply. But at a time of when the most half-hearted of attacks would have dug all their graves, sheer, utter silence had followed, allowing an unheard of peace and quite, especially for an SGC unit. However, there was a general feeling of unease accompanying that quiet. The losses in personnel were still acutely felt, and the fact remained that the Homosexual Postal Workers’ Union of Albania could probably put them out of commission in short order indeed (never mind any organized hostile force) still weighed heavily on everybody’s minds.
After about two weeks of continuous double guard duty and half-rations, the expedition summoned up the courage to move part of the ammunition stocks on the mainland to the city’s arsenal. Which meant that rather then nothing they had two time nothing. That was why the Daedalus had been dispatched along with her new escort, the .U.S.S. Harbinger for an emergency restock. And, due to the suspension of Gate travel until the munitions were safe in their armory, the diplomatic meeting would have to wait. Fortunately, the Daedalus, however much in need of repair it was, was also in good hands, as she herself had been in charge of its inspection.
For the limited experience that the US (or anyone, for that matter) had in designing working long-distance space ships, this was a pretty damned good job. It could staff about 200 fully-equipped personnel, was capable of carrying about 30 tons of cargo (not counting the space that was traditionally taken up for voyage necessities), could make the trips faster then the Daedalus, and had enough firepower and armor to make any Gou’ld fleet think a few times over before committing enough resources necessary to destroy it.
In addition, it could outrace the elder vessel as well. It may have been it’s inferior in terms in firepower and armor, but it could outpace the Daedalus almost anytime it wished. As a matter of fact, there had initially been a plan to scrap the Daedalus altogether and have the Harbinger take up the supply runs, though said movement was eventually stopped dead by the combined protests of Caldwell, Elizabeth, and herself.
To this day, she had difficulty understanding why she had disagreed with the attempt to switch the ships, but she had her gut feelings, and the fact that the crew of the Harbinger were about as raw as you can get made her doubt that they could cope with whatever calamity could befall one a galaxy away from home, whereas Caldwell and his men were seasoned veterans. And when your lifeline was the thickness of a limp noodle, you had to make sure that that noodle was made of the strongest stuff that could be found.
And, to be honest, she wondered if the “greenhorns” could handle it by themselves, especially in comparison to Caldwell’s men.
However, the few Pod Jumpers the city had sent out to ascertain the status of the scheduled supply routes, and for the entire duration of their scouting missions they found, to quote one of the pilot’s debriefing statements “absolutely nothing, not even a strange-looking asteroid.” So, in other words, the situation, while not safe, was relatively stable.
So why was she worrying?
The diplomatic talks were big news, make no mistake about it. And, given that importance, unwelcome attention was almost certain to follow. The fact was that the conference was a juicy target for any hostile force that knew it was happening and was in a position to take advantage of it. The stiff air that filtered through the SGC about hostile movements in the Pegasus was, on one hand, a pleasant sign, as it could be taken that the Genii were too badly maimed by their failed attempt to take the city to do anything, that the Wraith were lying low for one reason or another, and that there were no roving Gou’ld in the region.
However, the chill that had taken up home in her spine and in her heart told her otherwise. While she had joined the Air Force primarily to further her scientific career, she had been soldiering on too long not to question things when all appeared tranquil. She knew as well as anybody that the deafening silence that came in from the scouts could vary well mask a buildup, a movement of forces, or even a sudden attack, and any of those would be bad news in the current situation.
There was also something else that was bothering her, and that she knew was irrational, but could not help. She felt that someone was always watching everything she did, and that, to be quite frank, scared the living crap out of her. She knew it was just a stupid feeling, but she could not overcome it.
However, just because she was going mental did not give her an excuse to slack off, and she eventually found her way into the communication center of Atlantis, where the routine message from the Daeldus was expected. As usual, the building was fraught with the climate of fearful anticipation that gripped the rest of the Platonic lost city of old. Everybody seemed to be waiting for something to happen.
Yes, she was probably over-analyzing the situation. Again. However, she could not help but feel the tension of the entire crew hinging on what would happen in the next few minutes. She felt the tension in the air, lying just slightly below the surface, like a patient shark, and how it held sway over every person in the room. Everyone was ticking down the seconds to see if the supplies they desperately needed would be delivered. Nevertheless, even though time seemed to slow down to a snail’s pace, it seemed remarkably soon when the Communications Officer announced “We have picked up a signal from the Daeldus and the Harbinger on the Long-Wave Transmission, and they are now on radar, ma’am.”
She had been on the verge of trying to answer, but than Elizabeth got there first and replied “Thank you Captain, now put him on the open channel.” After a brief reply in the affirmative and the wait of a few seconds, she saw the Daeldus and the Harbinger appear on the city’s radar screen, and something immediately struck her as not right.
The ships were supposed to be in an escort formation, but they were further apart than the usual distance for such a grouping. That was a few seconds before the speakers filled with the statement that would haunt her dreams for months to come.
“This is Colonel Caldwell of the USS Daeldus to anyone who can respond. We are under heavy attack and are requesting support! Mayday Mayday Mayday!”
Even now, he found it difficult to come to grips with his choices. The difficulty of coping with the idea of dooming, for all intents killing with his own actions, a few hundred to save several hundred still shook him deeply. But he could not change the fact. The ambush would happen regardless of what he did. And this way, he could at least save the most important part of the fleet, its equipment, and to say the least its crew, rather than throw the entire deck down the trash compacter.
Sometimes life confronts one with impossible choices, he summarized, and, holding the controls with both hands and gazing his milk-white eyes at the scene unfolding before him, literally at his own command, he could only summarize it with a final addendum.
“But then again, so does death.”
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Fortune\'s Favor by Offworlder FAM
Winner of the Atlantis challenge for the December 2007 fic challenge contest.
Winner of the Atlantis challenge for the December 2007 fic challenge contest.
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