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For the End

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Link To Me

by KJC

 

11.12.2004

 

 

They were everywhere.

 

Smoke billowed through the halls, and crackling energy from the destroyed consoles provided the only light in some rooms.

 

The power that protected Atlantis was gone.  There were no lights but what the windows provided.  Even the emergency power had been depleted.

 

No one knew where they had come from, and no one knew how they had known where Atlantis was.  They had dropped out of the sky and attacked Atlantis without warning.  Half the population had been taken out in the first ten minutes of the attack.

 

Major John Sheppard had been in his quarters when the attack began, getting ready for an off world mission.  The power had been taken out immediately, and all he was able to gather of what had happened was what he heard on his radio.  Of that, he mostly heard cries for help and pleas to an unseen enemy.

 

Ever the soldier, Sheppard had set himself for the worst.  Taking his gun, he headed down the halls of Atlantis, wary to the unknown danger.  Parts of the city had collapsed.  Some areas were inaccessible.  Everyone he came across was dead.

 

And then he saw them and knew that his nightmare had come true.

 

Three wraith were feeding off of one of the doctors, sucking him dry.  With a cry of animal rage, Sheppard rammed one, skewering its head with his long knife.  He took the others out as quickly as the first.

 

The doctor was too far gone to be saved.  Sheppard realized a moment later as he let the old head drop, that the doctor was Carson Beckett, his features unrecognizable with age.

 

At that moment, fear began to creep into the Major’s heart.  If the wraith were here, their only goal would be to subdue Atlantis and feed on the survivors.

 

Determination in his features, he set his gun firmly against his shoulder.  If the wraith were here to kill, he was going to make sure it would take them as long as possible to get everyone.  Perhaps, if he got lucky, the Stargate would be unguarded, and some might make it through.

 

Several long and weary hours later, he realized that hope was impossible.  He found no one alive.  People that he had known and worked with, people that had come to be friends to him were all dead.  Weir, Teyla, Ford—even McKay.  They were all gone.

 

He ended up cornered in the gate room, his back to the Stargate, and dozens of wraith surrounding him.  He was injured and battle weary, but rage at what these creatures had done kept him going.

 

They didn’t all jump him like he expected.  One stepped forward, long white hair immaculate, analyzing Sheppard as he aimed his empty gun towards the wraith.

 

“You are the one,” the wraith said.

 

“Yeah I’m ‘the one,’” Sheppard sniped.  “I’m the one who’s gonna take out as many of you as I can before you can get to me.”

 

The wraith smiled.  “No.  You are the one we have been looking for.  You are the one who killed our caretaker and all the others.  It is ironic that you also are the last of your kind to live.”

 

Sheppard caught himself swaying, and he shifted from one leg to the next in an effort to stay standing.

 

“You have foiled many of our awakening plans,” the wraith continued.  “We did not want to be awakened this early.  We came to avenge the caretakers.  We came for you.  Unfortunately, we had to go through many of your kind before we finally found you.”

 

Disbelief and shock slammed into Sheppard at the wraith’s words.  Scenes of wraith threatening him with death flashed through his mind.  Steve had said they would come for him.  The wraith caretaker had said they would come for him.  They were here only for him and had slaughtered everyone to get to him.  He didn’t know if he had gone insane or if those instances had all been pointing to this.  “No,” he whispered.  “No.”  His voice rose, and with animal rage, he charged the wraith, slamming the butt of his gun into its head.  It fell, twitching, and was still . . . but only for a moment.

 

Sheppard didn’t stop.  He had lost his other weapons hours ago.  Using his empty gun, he swung it around himself, creating a small circle between himself and the rest of the wraith.  It made contact with several of the wraith who attempted to make a grab at him, and the heavy gun warped, bending almost in half.

 

The Major was too exhausted and wounded from his previous encounters to prevent the final attack.  The wraith swarmed him, leaving him sprawled, twenty minutes later, broken and bloody on the floor.  They did not feed.

 

One of the wraith looked down at the human, then looked solemnly at the rest of the wraith.  “We were not to kill him,” it said.  “The world he came from is populated with billions of his kind, and now we shall never find it.  It shall remain the lost world . . . at least until someone else comes.”