Agent Fox Mulder (i_want_2) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2009-08-18 20:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | atlantis, galactica, rated: teen, slash, x-over |
Fic: Twice In A Lifetime 2/6 StarGate: Atlantis/BattleStar Galactica
Title: Twice In A Lifetime
Author: Lopaka Tanu
Disclaimer: I do not own BattleStar Galactica or StarGate: Atlantis.
Characters: Gaeta, Lorne, Caldwell, Sheppard, Weir, Rodney, Woolsey Hermiod, Carson, Teyla, and Kate Heightmeyer.
Words: 23,232
Prompt: Galactica jumps to alien planet, is destroyed. SGA rescues.
Fandom: StarGate: Atlantis/BattleStar Galactica
Pairing: Pre-Lorne/Gaeta
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Language, Violence, Character Deaths.
Summary: After rescuing a group of strangers from a debris field, Lorne and the rest of Atlantis become embroiled in a three millennia old mystery that leaves them asking who can they trust.
Author's Note: More SGA style than BSG, which means it tends to be humorously bad in parts.
Spoilers: BSG 2x09; SGA 3x06
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Part 2. Where Are We?
Entering the infirmary, Caldwell expected to find controlled chaos. He was not disappointed. What he saw took his breath away. Standing well out of the action, he watched the medical teams go about their duties.
On the gurneys were six individuals. IV lines and wires connected to them in several locations. Visible were cuts and contusions that openly bled, many deep. Not a one of them wore a scrap of clothing. What they had been wearing lay in tatters on the deck with used sponges.
The squeals of monitoring equipment shrilly drew attention over the shouts of doctors. Yet, Caldwell heard neither. Over the pounding of his own heart he heard noises of another time. He was dragged back thirty years to another triage unit.
A voice spoke.
The feeling of a firm hand on his shoulder jerked Caldwell from his daze. Sucking in a quick breath he turned to stare at the owner of the hand. Finding Major Lorne, he composed himself enough to nod at his understanding look. "What the hell happened over there, Major?"
"They were in a secure department, sir. A lockerroom with a communal shower." Lorne, unable to meet the Colonel's gaze, glanced about the deck until he found a shard. He pointed to it on the floor among the bandages. "I think the force of the ship being destroyed caused the tiles to explode like shrapnel."
"My god." Getting himself under control, Caldwell nodded more out of a need to do something. There was nothing either of them could do in this situation for these people. A small part of him was relieved about that.
Feeling a little better gave him the strength to plow onwards. He had to get some answers for his own logs and peace of mind. "Were there any more?"
"One." Looking over his shoulder back toward the way he had come, Lorne swallowed down a shuddering breath. "He's the most put together of them." The metal doors that separated the private rooms from the general infirmary stood their ominously silent.
Seeing the other man's reaction, it was Caldwell's turn to feel sympathetic. He reached up to grab the hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Can we get some answers out of him?"
"We might. That's when he wakes up." Lorne gave the Colonel's shoulder a quick squeeze then withdrew his hand. "Doc's got him on psych watch and oxygen tent. He was only suffering from carbon dioxide poisoning when we brought him in."
There was no need to ask why the psych watch. Caldwell could put two and two together well enough on his own. "Keep me up to date on their situation. I'll be on the bridge, we still have a stargate to secure."
~~~~~~~~~~
He was cold. That was the first sensation that fully formed in Felix's mind. The second was that he was laying on something semi-soft. Judging from that and the soft beeping from nearby, he judged himself to be in the infirmary. That explained why he felt so weak.
An involuntary groan passed his lips as he shifted. The pain in his left shoulder and lower back informed him that he must have fallen. He hoped whoever had attacked them suffered worse than he did.
Not like it mattered, though, since the frakkers would get new bodies.
Still, even dying had to hurt for them. It had certainly been no picnic for him. That was the price they paid for getting soft bodies. Which was the best trade off he could think of. Pain, so much of it, for them. That was a beautiful thought.
He frowned. Dying had hurt. When had he been dying?
Thinking about that brought up the communal showers. Last thing he recalled clearly was fixing his hair in the mirror. He needed to visit Crewman Lycellum to get them trimmed back. They were a half inch from failure to comply with regulation.
Opening his eyes for the first time, he was greeted with a blurry array of colors. His eyes stung making him blink. Despite the pain, he instantly knew something was wrong. These colors were all wrong. Now that he thought about it, the sound of the heart monitor was off too.
That meant he wasn't on the Galactica. Where the hell was he? A sudden fear caused his chest to clench. Had he been captured?
The beeping of the heart monitor increased until it set off an alarm.
Felix reached up to rub the tears of pain from his eyes. A pain from his arm halfway to his hand told him that a stent was implanted in his vein. Subconsciously, he recognized this was a logical thing, but he didn't care. What mattered was the fact that someone had stuck something in him.
The alarm on the monitor squealed louder.
His fear level increased over this. It was going to alert someone that he was awake. Sudden anger at the device made him lash out. The back of his hand smacked in to the solid device.
It screamed one last time as it fell over. Halfway through the beep it was silenced by the sound of a small explosion. The smell of scorched plastic and ozone filled the air.
Wrinkling his nose, Gaeta wiped at his cheeks. The tears cleared from his eyes he could now see. It was indeed an infirmary, but unlike anyone he have ever seen before.
While the room shared many of the same traits as that on Galactica', there was one primary difference. There were actual computers embedded in the walls. Not just monitoring device, but actual computers. A shudder ran through Gaeta.
Glancing about, he searched for one of his captors. There had to be someone. The amount of noise he had made would draw them like flies. When no one came for him, he frowned.
What kind of infirmary was this? Where were the doctors and nurses?
Sitting up on one elbow proved to be too much effort and he had to stop to rest. As he lay there panting, he continued his search. There were monitoring devices, at least as far as he could tell, attached to the ceiling. They were watching him.
So where was everyone?
A moment later his question was answered as the hiss of doors opening drew his attention. Past the foot of his bed was a wall with a set of metallic doors. They had drawn back enough to let a figure in. The man standing there was in a graish-blue uniform with black trim. Felix's eyes were instantly drawn to the holster on his hip.
This was a military vessel.
The man staring at Felix looked a little stunned. His bright blue eyes were opened enough that their color was visible in the dim light. "Wow, you're awake."
"I am Pycan." Forcing himself to sit up further, he grunted from pain. His muscles ached like he had been running for miles. Yet, he did not let that stop him. There would be no sign of weakness in front of this man. For all he knew, this was still an elaborate Cylon trick.
If it was, the man was doing a thorough job as he looked confused by Felix's words. Reaching up to scratch at his ear, he gave a tight smile. "I'm afraid I've never heard of that one."
Okay, Felix could handle that. He would play along for now. At least until he had enough information and his strength back. "My colony is Pycon. Aside from the Colonial Fleet Headquarters, we are known for our quick recovery time."
"I see." Clearly he didn't. Still, the man wasn't being hostile. Taking an uncertain step in to the room he tried to meet Felix's stare but failed. "What can you tell me about the battle?"
"Which one?" Even as he spoke, Felix's mind connected the dots. He remembered the ship's death throes as the power was lost and the alarms died. Feeling dizzy, he almost fell out of the bed. Strong hands were suddenly there to catch him.
Feeling grateful, Felix clutched at the man's shoulders to keep himself from going down. The muscles in his arms bounced from the strain but he would not let go. To minimize the ache, Felix dropped his head to rest on his left arm. "How long?"
"Our scans indicate the attack happened around nineteen hours ago. We rescued you under two hours ago." The words were a hoarse whisper. His face was only a few inches from Felix's ear. "You're one of seven survivors."
"Seven," he asked in a pained gasp? Five months on the run and there were only seven members of the human race left. He suddenly felt too weak to hang on. Only the sheer force of will kept his grip on the man's shoulders. May be he was wrong. A test, he needed a test to prove if he was wrong. "There were a hundred and ten ships in the fleet."
"Our scans indicated a hundred and thirteen." When Felix moaned in distress, the man slid an arm around his body. Easing him back in to the bed, he shushed him to calm him down. "You're alive, that's what's important now."
No, it wasn't. It didn't matter that he had made it. They were really all gone. Felix no longer cared what happened. As far as he was concerned he might as well not have made it at all. He wanted to just go back to sleep and never wake up. Unfortunately the man had other ideas.
Putting his palm to Felix's cheek, he drew his thumb over the tear track he found there. "Hey, I have a few questions for you. Do you think you can answer them?"
"The ship's log." Tilting his head away, Felix clenched his eyes shut. What did it matter if this was even a Cylon trap. They had won, he knew the Galactica was gone and that was the end of it. "In the CIC, if it survived, six leather-bound, hand-written books." Pressing his face in to the pillow, he stopped fighting it and let the exhaustion take him.
~~~~~~~~~~
Walking through the corridors, Lorne tried to keep his own reaction under control. He hadn't even been in the battle yet he was experiencing his own flashbacks. It wasn't hard to picture the drag out fight between the Wraith fleet and the Colonials. That last word made him frown.
He couldn't remember hearing it but that seemed appropriate. The man in the infirmary kept mentioning the colonies. Colonies implied a homeworld but he never once said a word about it. It was all about the colonies.
So, they were Colonials. The Colonial Fleet. If these hundred or so ships were the last then...He had dealt with the last of a species before. They never were right after that.
He had to move aside to let a scientist pass. She was carrying a bag of something but he didn't care enough to notice what.
The loss of one's home was devastating. Compound that with the destruction of their entire species and it was impossible. Lorne prayed to whoever was out there that the Wraith responsible were all dead. That they had died in the most horrific fashion available was the best he could hope for.
Judging by the debris field around them, most of them had. He felt a sense of victory and vindictiveness for the people in the infirmary. At least they hadn't gone out quietly. That was the most beautiful thing about the human species, they never gave up without a fight.
Coming up on the entrance to the engine room, he reached up to enter his security code. The doors opened and he quickly stepped through. Lorne was shaken from of his thoughts by the sight of what greeted him.
Standing in the center of the beaming platform was a scientist. He wasn't one Lorne had dealt with before, but the device he was using was. It was a metallurgical scanner. He was busy scanning a box of what appeared to be gray sand.
What drew Lorne's attention, though, was the symbol on the side. It was a character he had seen before, but not in the Pegasus Galaxy. Anger flushed through him and he took a stomping step towards the man. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
The scientist's head jerked up. His Atlantis Expedition jumpsuit cut in to the skin of his throat as he turned to stare wide-eyed at the Major. "Major Lorne!"
"That's my name." Anger caused his lips to draw back in a snarl. "Care to explain why you are looting graves?"
"Graves, sir?" The man's voice came out in a hesitant gasp. Blinking, he tugged at his collar. "We weren't..."
"You're stealing from those ships." Pointing at the box, Lorne glared the man down. "That's not ours, I know that symbol. It came from that fleet out there."
"There is no fleet, Major, it's a debris field!" Rising from his box, the man's complexion started to darken. He opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut when Lorne sliced a hand through the air.
Turning his head to face Hermiod, Lorne growled out, "send it back, now."
Without waiting for the scientist's response, Hermiod moved a stone across his panel.
The box glowed white then disappeared in a flash of light as it shot up through the ceiling.
Horrified, the scientist took an angry step towards Lorne. "Major!" He backed up and held his hands over his chest when the man glared at him. "It was Naquidah, Major, almost a hundred percent pure. Do you know how rare that is? We have never found a source of it in the Pegasus Galaxy!"
"Well, now you know it is out there." Bringing his anger in check, Lorne took a deep breath. He didn't speak again until he was reasonably sure he wouldn't bite the man's head off. "This is a graveyard. These people are newly dead, have some respect."
That seemed to take the wind out of the man's sails. Shrinking down on himself, he sighed. He nodded once. Heading for the hatch, he kept his gaze down.
Once the doors had closed behind the scientist, Lorne took a long breath. His chest hurt by the time he finished. Exhaling through his nose, he focused upon Hermiod.
The Asgard blinked at him in expectation. Hands already on the control stones, he merely waited for the coming request.
It was with a heavy heart that Lorne took the final steps to the control console. Looking up from his feet to the Asgard he frowned. "Have you located the command area of the main ship?"
"I have." Hermiod tilted his head as he picked up a control stone. "What do you require?"
"Is there a book of some kind there? Leather bound, may be more than one." He tried to form a book with his hands, but couldn't decide upon the right size. "One of the survivors, he told me their ship's log was hand written in them."
"You stand accusing one of your own of stealing, yet do the same not only moments later." As he spoke, the Asgard activated his controls. A moment later he blinked in satisfaction. "I have located the requested items."
Guilt made Lorne swallow while he tried to come up with another solution. A half formed thought occurred to him from something he had heard once. Snapping his fingers, he pointed at the smaller being. "Can you duplicate them? Their entire contents?"
"It is not impossible." Moving another stone, Hermiod closed his eyes.
The groan of the beaming device activating made Lorne jump. Within seconds a large blast of light produced a book in the center of the platform. Five more consecutive blasts created the rest of the set. It finished with a rushing sound and the beaming platform shut down.
"Thank you." Walking over to them, Lorne bent down and picked up the one on top. The artificial leather was warm to the touch. His fingers traced the symbol on the cover that looked like a flaming star in his mind. A single word at the bottom of the symbol made him pause. Not only was it the word but the letters.
Galactica.
The word was written in plain English. Not in all the years of the Stargate program had anyone encountered a society where English was the spoken and written language. A twisting started in Lorne's stomach as he glanced over his shoulder at Hermiod. "Did you translate this?"
"They are as you requested, perfect replicas." The diminutive being sounded insulted over the mere question.
That twisting turned in to a solid ball of ice. He grimaced at the familiar feeling of dread. Something weird was going on here. Reaching up to his ear piece, he activated the comm link. "Colonel, I got the logs from the Colonial ship. There's something you've gotta see."
"Colonial?" Caldwell's confusion warred with irritation. "Forget about those for the moment. Get up here to the bridge. There's something I think you'll want to be a part of." He deactivated the comm signal abruptly.
Frowning, Lorne looked to Hermiod for some clarification. When the Asgard only looked back at him, he sighed. "Can you send these to my quarters?" They were glowing before he even finished the last word. He fell back to avoid the flash of light.
The Asgard blinked at him in amusement.
~~~~~~~~~~
Lorne was breathing heavily by the time he made it to the bridge. He wasn't out of shape, but having to navigate the corridors of this ship while jogging and avoiding people pretty much threw him off any rhythm. It was a wonder that he even managed to make it here at all. Still, he was there.
Walking through the hatch, he took a deep breath to compose himself. He knew that his face was flushed but it couldn't be helped. He nodded an acknowledgment to the lieutenant manning the engineering console as he passed. Then, he was standing at Caldwell's right, adjacent.
Stopping at parade rest, he folded his hands behind his back. Staring at the screen, he saw only the debris field. "You requested that I join you, sir?"
Twisting his chair so he could glimpse the Major out of the corner of his eye, Caldwell nodded. "Lieutenant Van Brose, patch in Mr. Woolsey any time you're ready." It was an order but his tone indicated that he had no inclination to have it carried out.
The Lieutenant at the communications console behind them stared at his station for a moment. With a sigh he activated the link.
Appearing on the front screen, the man in question adjusted his glasses. "Colonel Caldwell." His eyes fell immediately upon the man in question, ignoring everyone else on the bridge. "I am curious as to why I was on hold for so long."
"Frankly, it's because I don't care to speak to you." The look on his face made it clear he wasn't joking. "You're like a black cat, every time we cross paths something bad always happens."
"Well, I'm so sorry that my presence puts you at such dire straits." Woolsey's pinched features seemed to become even more so. He swallowed almost as if he tasted something bitter. "I'll make this quick and to the point. You are to bring your passengers to Atlantis immediately. This is a direct order from the IOA."
"Passengers?" Caldwell shared a glance with Lorne before giving Wolsey his entire attention again. "What do you know of them?"
"Nothing. That's why you are to bring them here." The man offered them a patronizing smile. "Woolsey out." Then his image disappeared from the screen.
"I really hope something eats that man." Much to everyone's surprise, especially his own, it was Lorne who spoke. Finding himself at the center of attention, he snorted and smirked. "Tell me I'm the only one who feels that way."
"That isn't the point, Major. You can feel it, you just can't say it." Caldwell wouldn't look at Lorne, not even to a quick glance. "Lieutenant Maxwell, is the gate secured in the cargo bay?"
"Yes, sir." Checking her controls, Maxwell smiled. "Everything has been inspected and boxed for shipment."
That met with a nod from the Colonel. "Good, Lieutenant Gunderson, get us the hell out of here and back to Atlantis base before Mr. Woolsey blows a hemorrhoid."
Now that that was taken care of, Lorne's mind came back around to the logs. He knew that they were important, but was smart enough to wait until the Colonel brought it up. Since the IOA had stuck its nose, that would probably be when no one else was around.
Speaking of the IOA... Lorne cleared his throat. "Sir, how did the IOA find out so quickly about our rescued passengers?"
"That's something I'd like to know myself." Turning his chair, Caldwell looked to Vam Brose. Raising his eyebrows, he waited for a response.
"I'm on it, sir." The lieutenant swallowed nervously as he brought up the communications logs. What he found made him frown. He checked the logs three different times but they came back the same every time. "I'm not finding anything, sir. There were no communications from the ship logged since before we came out of hyperspace."
Closing his eyes, Lorne heard the Colonel shift in his chair. There was going to be an inhouse inquisition for this. A half a heart beat later, he felt the ship jump to hyperspace.
~~~~~~~~~
Removing his ear piece, Lorne all but staggered through his door. It had been hours since he had last been in them thanks to his duties. He would still be at them if the Colonel hadn't ordered him to get some rest.
Unzipping his uniform jacket, he glanced over to the portholes. The violent purple swirls of hyperspace made his head hurt so he had to quickly turn away. That was at least one source of his headache he could ignore.
The other was not so easily put from his mind. After nearly six hours of scouring the memory banks of every computer on the ship, they weren't any closer to finding the leak. At this rate Caldwell was going to have whomever it was served on a silver platter when they were caught.
Groaning, he slipped the jacket from his shoulders. He was heading to his closet when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. It took him a moment to realize what they were. Another second after that he realized what they were doing there.
In all the excitement he had forgotten about the log books. They had been there ever since Hermiod had beamed them in hours ago. The information in them might not solve the current mystery but it might answer a few others. More importantly, he was the only person on board who had them.
Lorne was well aware he was there to get some sleep. His body demanded it even. It was the smart thing to do. Yet, the lure of finding out what lay hidden in those books surprised him. He wanted to read those tomes.
'Thank you very much, Dr. Jackson, for that word,' he mused to himself.
He wasn't a geek, not even by the longest stretch of the word. Hard facts and data only pertinent to his mission were what interested him. Even then, he wanted it simple and straight to the point. He wouldn't get that pouring through six thick books.
Still, his fingers itched to pry open the covers.
Glancing to his wrist watch, he had to blink three times to get his eyes to focus. That settled it. It didn't matter what the time was. He was going to get some sleep now. Peering at the watch with one eye open, he counted down in his head.
There were twelve hours left until they got back to Atlantis base. Thirteen if Caldwell ordered the ship to go slower for more time. He only needed eight to sleep so he could function at peak efficiency. That left four-plus hours to read the books before he had to go back on duty and report to Colonel Sheppard.
Smiling at his own ingenuity, Lorne tugged at his uniform shirt. Sleep first, book reading later.