Author: Flaim aka Darkfalconheart

Story: You can run with us. (20/?)

Pairing: nothing as of yet,

Rating: for this chapter: 13 , may be higher in later chapters

Warnings: some violence

Status: WIP

Spoilers: Up to ‘The lost tribe’.

Wordcount: ca. 4000

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, names or other various parts of the SG/SGA universe and all rights are with their respective owners. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 20: On the road to Vallombrosa

"Behold the monster with the pointed tail, Who cleaves the hills, and breaketh walls and weapons, behold him who infecteth all the world."

(Dante: Canto 17)

The void stretched endlessly, Carson could not see beyond it. The swirling mists hid everything around him. He still knew where he was, or when for that matter. Some part of him, a newly awakened part knew the void, knew the path through the emptiness. It helped Carson to navigate this place, to find a path through what seemed eternity itself. Part of him saw in awe and wonder this place, that connected to everything else, this eternity that enveloped the world itself and part of him wanted to run, these things were never meant for humans to be known.

A light broke through the mists, parting them, the warmth enveloping Carson. He smiled. He knew he had come to the right place. The light grew warmer, inviting him to follow, to loose himself inside it. Carson raised his head. “I can’t.” he said. “I can’t go with ye’.” Amazing and wondrous as this place might be – he did not belong here.

A comfortable prickling ran through his body, as the light seemed to smile. A silent question – far more than a question, more complex than simple words could express – asked if he was sure, if he really wanted to leave.

“I am.” Carson replied. “I came to give back what was never mine to begin with.” He was afraid to have to navigate the emptiness alone, but this fear did not make him turn back.

A calm feeling flooded through him, like a voice whispering “Fear not.” From afar. And Carson did not need to doubt it. He raised his hands towards the light, bracing for the pain that would inevitably come. But instead a cool stream, like water from a mountain river enveloped him, washing away the changes.

The emptiness stretched further and further. There was no light anymore, no orientation. Only darkness, and empty space. Icy emptiness closing in on him. Looking around, he did not know where to turn to, until he heard the voice, echoing from a distance:

“Your road is your own

though far from it you travel

the night that beckons on the horizon cannot be escaped

do not fear the road into the darkness for there will be a light.”

Without hesitation Carson followed the voice and fell…fell out of the darkness, out of the emptiness, back to the cell onboard Michael’s ship.

***

“So where are we headed?” John asked. It was the day after the execution and the great hive had jumped to hyperspace some hours previously. John had learned by now to estimate the travelling speed of the ship by the soft vibrations running through the walls. After some time even a hive became familiar, or so he guessed. “Where was your friend tapped?”

“The planet is close to the moonflower nebula, on the far edge of the former Lantean territory. One of their old strongholds.” Todd replied, on a gesture of his hand, a map became visible on one of the stations. “During the great war this world was the Headquarters of the most successful of the Lantean Leaders, he was highly disputed among his own people, but one of the most effective commanders we encountered back then. He was at odds with the Lantean Council about leaving this galaxy, he wanted to stay and fight, to protect the seeded worlds.”

John studied the map with some interest. Like always, when details of the Lantean war came up, he was curious. And this sounded far more reasonable than other things he had heard about it before. “Sounds like he was a good guy.” He said without thinking. The realised whom he was talking to. “Not to you I guess.” He added.

Tarishaár’s eyes lit up in humour. “He was a great adversary. I fought against him in five battles and numerous skirmishes and I came to respect him.” Another map more detailed map appeared. “During the last days of the war, Cyphaar led a strike force of our best into the stronghold, because we had learned that General Lucian had gotten his hands on a new terrible weapon and was ready to deploy it.”

“Let me guess: you walked into a trap, there was no weapon, but a well prepared ambush.” John concluded, the strategy was obvious to him.

Tarshiaár laughed. “I see why some of the people you encountered came to see you as Lucian Tamarkhan reborn,” he observed.

John scowled. “Not another ‘of the true blood’ issue. It’s just some coincidence.” And the words reminded him keenly of Jir who had been left behind. Much as John tried to trust the other Runner’s abilities to escape, he could not help to fear he might not have made it.

“So you happened to be born with the legacy, happened to became a soldier and happened to be send to another galaxy, where you happened to do all the things you did? Now what is the probability of that?” Tarishaár asked.

“If you put it like that...” John decided to change the topic. “So, your friend has been in that trap for ten thousand years? Can he have survived that long?”

“The trap is not a cage, but a rather specialised cryo-chamber, designed to hold one of our kind. The chamber won’t release him, except if commanded through the command chair of the stronghold. And there are extra measures in place, to prevent any Wraith from freeing Cyphaár. Originally the trap was intended to catch us all, the whole strike force, but Cyphaár saved the rest of us.”

“Getting caught himself in the process.” John knew that situation himself all too well. “So I guess you need me to sit in the chair and open the chamber?”

“And to open the way to the chair in the first place. I know where it is, because I know the layout of the fortress, but the chair chamber along with the control centre had been locked down completely.” Tarishaár explained, another map appearing on the display, this time a detailed map of the stronghold complex.

John intently studied the map, it looked like it was an ancient stronghold that was still largely intact. What other things, wonders and troubles might be inside it? “Looks like there is one direct route to the control centre and the chair room, from up here,” he pointed to one of the upper entrances. “Has the place a name?”

“Vallombrosa,” Todd replied. “And the upper entrance was damaged during the last days of the war, the main entrance General Lucian secured with some complex mechanisims, that can only be deactivated by the chair, so we will have to use this entrance on the east side and make our way from there.”

John nodded at the name, relieved not to encounter some other mythological reference along the way, he focused on the planning.

***

When Carson woke next, he was still in the cell but his senses had returned to normal. “Easy, this was not an easy journey for you.” Jircanor was sitting on the cell’s floor beside him.

Slowly Carson sat up, he felt more than a little sore. “Aye,” the memory of what had happened came back to him like one big flood of pictures and impressions. He didn’t feel ready to talk about it, not now, perhaps not ever. “Did anything happen while I was out?”

Jircanor pointed his head to the door. “A guard looked in half an hour ago, so I guess the hybrid will be down here in no time.”

“I see you have the Dhemarigán honour, but none of their politeness.” The doors slid open and Michael entered the cell.

“Speak of the devil.” Carson struggled to his feet, Jircanór had gotten up too. “What do you want this time, Michael?” He still feared the Hybrid, that had held him captive for more than two years, but was unwilling to give in to his fear.

“My experiments have hit a dead end, Doctor.” The hybrid replied. “Something that neither your theories nor mine could solve. There is only one way to acquire the answers I seek: I must go back to the first ones.”

Jircanor arched an eyebrow. “Does this gene therapy you underwent come with damage to the brain? The Lanteans destroyed all of the first ones before they left Pegasus. Had only one of them survived this galaxy would be in one hell of a trouble.”

Carson wasn’t sure if he liked how this sounded, and having two people around who were better up in the history of this galaxy than him, didn’t make things easier. “What are the first ones?” he inquired. He needed more facts to go on.

“The first ones were the first Lantean warriors to be completely changed by the Iratus infection.” Jircanor supplied the information needed at once. “Not just changed a little, or going half bug on the way, but those who really became the first great Wraith. There were never more than a dozen or so of them, but with their ability to manipulate, convert and change nearly all others who where Iratus infected they are more or less the key of the Wraith evolving from a random infection to a full species. The Lanteans killed them during the war.”

“They could manipulate and change those who were infected with Iratus DNA?” Carson asked, he had studied the changeable and adaptable Iratus DNA for so long, and always felt he lacked part of the basic knowledge to understand the tremendous changes it had undergone from the bug to the Wraith species.

“Right.” Jircanor confirmed. “They converted many of the bug-infected cases to something akin to Wild Wraith and are most responsible for the existence of the High Wraith. History even claims they could convert a Wild Wraith, if he had sufficient strong other DNA into a High Wraith by somehow sharing their own Lantean genetic material. But that doesn’t change the fact, that the Lanteans went to great pains to take the First Ones out of the equation. General Lucian practically hunted them down.”

“You would know about that, Captaine of the silver, wouldn’t you?” Michael asked eying the Runner predatorily. “Your face still carries the features your bloodline.”

Jircanor’s gaze might have burned the Hybrid to ashes and swept him into the dustbin. “If you mean that two of my ancestors served under great General, than you are right. Oh – I forgot you might have been around yourself at the time. Where did they kick your Wraith arse?”

Carson wanted to warn Jircanor, to not rouse Michael’s anger. The Runner seemed perfectly willing to get himself into a spot of trouble. But he saw the cautionary glance Jir cast him and suddenly understood. The Runner presented himself as the obvious target for any grudges the hybrid might hold and want to vent. Yet the hybrid only smiled wryly. “Ah – I forgot, the oath of the Dhemarigán. How was it put? To obey without question, to fight any enemy, and to give your live without hesitation or regret for Lantea, now in all times to come. I hope you still stand by it.”

Carson stepped between the hyrid and the runner. “What do you want Michael?” He wasn’t willing to let Michael play further games.

“One of the first ones survived. Trapped inside an ancient stronghold, General Lucian intended to use him as a bait, before the decision to evacuate was made.” Michael elaborated. “And this one is still alive, captured in a stasis pod inside an Ancient facility. And you Dr. Beckett will help me to get him.”

A great cold seemed to rush in on Carson. If Michael got his hands on this “first one”, then he would create monsters far worse than ever before. “And if I refuse?” he asked.

“Oh – then we’ll have to find out how strong the Capitaine here stands by the oath of his ancestors.” Michael replied nonchalantly.

Jircanor threw his head back, barking a laugh. “Get started hybrid,” he dared Michael. “Let’s put your threads to some test.”

“No!” Carson intervened firmly. “I’ll do it.” God help him, he could not sacrifice the live of another man, to just resist Michael.

***

“Hey, big guy.” Entering Ronon’s cell John found his friend pacing. He knew Ronon had neither been hurt nor harmed, but seeing it for himself was an entirely different thing.

“John.” Ronon stopped pacing. “How’s your friend?” The Satedan had been brought back to his cell before Illo had been brought up to the infirmary.

“I’m on my way to see him.” John explained. “Want to tag along?” It had taken some convincing to actually get Tarishaár to agree to this. But the Wraith knew that Ronon usually obeyed Sheppard’s orders and was willing to trust John on that matter.

The Satedan didn’t much of an explanation, he just nodded and followed John out of the cell. He did not react to Ashaviiýr’s presence in any way, clearly not surprised to see the Wraith warrior. “So what’s coming next?” he asked, as they walked up the corridor.

“Todd has a friend trapped in some Ancient facility,” John explained. “we are en route to the planet as we speak and I will help getting him out.” It felt odd to talk about it like that, but luckily Ronon had been where Sheppard was standing now, before and knew what it meant.

“Good.” The Satedan replied.

John was grateful that Ronon did make it easy for him, accepting the decision as it was, trusting him still. He knew he could rely on his friend, no matter what. “Thanks, bug guy.”

They reached the infirmary doors. A short hissing exchange between Ashaviiýr and the healers followed. Ronon grinned suddenly broadly. “Looks like your friend pulled through and is up and about.” He said to John.

“You understand their language?” John asked astonished. He felt stupid enough as it was, relying on Ashaviiýr to translate forth and back.

“I lived like that for three years.” Ronon said in lower tones. “After some months I was tired of not understanding and having someone translate all the time. So I learned their language. Speaking is harder than understanding, until you get the hang of it.”

John could hear so much that remained unsaid in these words. After the short time he had been here himself, he could begin to imagine what those three years had been to Ronon. How much they might have changed him. A friendly clap on the shoulder, was the only answer he felt save to give.

Inside the infirmary John saw that Illo really was up and about again. Whatever the Wraith healers had done with him, had cured the damage in no time. It felt a little odd to see him sitting there, on the same ‘bed’ he had lain on yesterday. John could clearly see the changes in Illo, small details that spoke of the years gone by. “Illo?”

The blonde man looked up. “John? So this was not a dream.” He stated. “I wondered if it was me who was hallucinating for a change.”

Their two previous encounters echoed in those words. What perverse fate had thrown them into prison and torture together time and again? John wondered. “What are you doing here, Illo?” was the first question that came out. “I mean out here.”

A wry smile lit up on Illo’s features. “I had a small adventure last year, in Greenland. Was up there for arctic training, when we observed a huge crash on one of the barren glaciers. And suddenly the American’s at Thule airbase get all hush-hush, and we get told it’s a test plane that came down hard. But then some of our group get kidnapped by a guy calling himself Baal and the answers the American General who came in to manage the mess, wear thin. Well, we got our people back and killed Baal, but were asked to sign a stack of confidentially papers.” He leaned back, using his hands to support him slightly. “The very same General marched into our barracks close to Calw some weeks ago, with a proposal for me to join an international contingent, the whole thing super top secret. Wants me to stand in for a Lt. Col who went MIA, turns out that guy was named John Sheppard.”

John blinked. “You came to search for me?” He could imagine that the SGC had recruited Illo, he was a capable man, perhaps a tad to ruthless at times, but that he had come out here to search for John.

“Hey, you saved my life, twice.” Illo replied. “So what do we do about our resident ghosts?”

Now it was John’s turn to tense. Ronon might understand the situation, because he had been confronted with a High Wraith before. But how was he to explain to Illo, who had been interrogated by the Wraith, tried to kill himself before he could give up vital information? “It’s complicated.” He began. “I have come to some understanding with the Wraith leader…”

“If you were the one who found me…” Illo winced. “then you had enough authority to order someone about.”

So he had heard some of what had transpired. John knew he should have anticipated this, Illo had only blanked out halfway to the infirmary. “Todd… Tarishaar and me have a history.” He began anew. “We met in a Genii dungeon, both of us tortured in a way…”

“And you became friends.”

“More like an uneasy truce, in the beginning.” John went on. “None of our next encounters went precisely as planned and… bottom line is – I have an understanding with Tarishaar now, and a measure of trust exists on both sides.” It sounded still hollow, especially when he thought of what the Wraith commander had put Illo through. “I won’t excuse what they did to you…”

“But your agreement with them is greater than this, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I agreed to help Tarishaar to get one of his friends out of a mess.” John finished bracing for the outbreak that had to come. Traitor was perhaps the word he feared most.

But Illo just jumped from his sitting position to his feet. “Sounds like a plan.” He replied. “Where do we start?”

“You.. you are okay with it?” John was somewhat startled, he had expected many reactions, but not this.

Illo’s grey eyes focused on John. “I trust you,” he said calmly. “if you say, this is the best plan we can get, then we go for it.”

***

“General O’Neill?” Teyla knocked a second time on the frame of the office door.

The greying man looked up. “Teyla, come in.” He rose behind a stack of papers. “What brings you here?”

“I have spoken to Hollin, and he again talked to our contact, who in turn contacted his brethren.” Teyla summed up the activity of the last two days. “And as it turns out they have recently heard of John and Ronon. But, well they want to talk to directly.”

O’Neills tiredness was gone all of sudden. “Who is this contact? And what do they have in mind for the meeting?” he inquired.

“If you wish so, you can meet our contact yourself.” Teyla stated, she had to wrestle this agreement from Hollin, and had been surprised herself at their contact’s identity. “And then we can discuss the details of the meeting.”

“Very good.” O’Neill nodded. “we had gate contact with Earth earlier that day and have Lorne back. He is only cleared for light duty, but he’ll be in on the meeting too.”

Teyla beamed at the news. Lorne had become a trusted friend during that tough last year. “I was under the impression that Earth was unable to establish contact over such long a distance since the gateway bridge was lost.” she observed nevertheless.

O’Neill raised his hands in an helpless gesture. “In some accident with an Ancient repository some years back, somebody…ehm constructed a device to power the gate for a one time contact to an extragalactic gate in the Asgard galaxy. Carter had a look at the whole construction and found a way to build more of them.” O’Neill would never have told anyone, that Carter had teased him about those devices being dubbed OPC’s by the gate technicians. O’Neill’s power cell.

The meeting was set up only an hour later in Teyla’s quarters. Most of their down there O’Neill had used to bring Lorne up to speed again. The Major had taken in most of the information silently, asking questions now and then. Teyla awaited them at her doorstep. “Please come in General; Evan it is good to have you back.”

Both men entered the quarters, aside from Teyla only one other person was present. O’Neill recognised the young man at once. Athalwyn. He was standing close to the window, like he was watching the sea outside. For a moment O’Neill wanted to ask what he was doing here, but then he remembered what Rodney had said about the youth. When they found him by the gate ten months ago, they believed him to be a runner, judging by the way he reacted. “You are our contact, I take it? To the surviving Satedans?”

“The Satedan blades, yes.” Athalwyn turned around, facing them directly.

“So your people know something about John’s whereabouts?” Teyla asked again, up till now Hollin had done all the talking to Athalwyn.

“When Hollin asked me at first, I’d have said no, because if I had heard something I would have probably told you a long time ago.” Athalwyn explained. “But when I contacted the others, I found out that Bane had just come in again, when he heard the names John and Ronon he jumped ten feet high. He had met them only days ago.”

O’Neill listened up. “So this Bane has met them? Where?”

Athalwyn shook his had. “He’ll tell you himself. That kind of information is rarely given to watchers like me.”

“Don’t they trust you?” O’Neill would usually not have asked, but it was necessary to understand the position their contact held with the organisation behind it.

“No, but because I am not a Satedan blade. I failed.” A bitter smile flickered on Athalwyn’s features. “I am not Bane, who killed his first Wraith before he was fourteen, I froze up in my first real fight and needed rescuing, so I was out.” He took a deep breath. “Information of importance is only given to those who can handle themselves in a fight and are able to deal with the Wraith accordingly.”

“So, where does ‘Bane’ want to meet us?” O’Neill asked next. If a capable youth like Athalwyn had washed out of that Satedan training, it meant it was aimed at producing a very tough fighter at a very young age. O’Neill had seen and heard enough about the way the Jaffa trained their youngsters, to understand that kind of warrior mentality, even as he did not always like it.

“On Belkan, as you already know the world and it is as safe one can ask for these days.”

***

“It may look like it’s a milk run, but with Ancient facilities, it is always advisable to be cautious. We found more surprises in Atlantis than we cared to count.” John’s words were mostly for Illo’s sake, who had the least experience with Ancient tech and building.

Illo’s eyes were still on the map sketch John had shown him. “The place is a maze. Should we encounter unfriendlies inside we’ll be in a nice mess.”

“As far as Todd could tell me, Vallombrosa has been left alone every since the Lantean war ended.” John replied. It was good to sit with Ronon and Illo and prepare for the mission ahead. For the first time he felt somewhat on safe grounds again.

Illo’s head shot up. “Vallombrosa?” he asked. “Like in ‘Valley of Shadows’, huh?”

John shrugged. “I think there is a poem with a name like that, but I could be wrong.” He hadn’t given it much thought.

“Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa.” Illo quoted. “Milton. And literally translated Vallombrosa means ‘Valley of shadows’.”

Ronon rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. “Why do I have a bad feeling, whenever one of your Earth legends comes up?”

Fic: You can run with us 20/?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, names or other various parts of the SG/SGA universe and all rights are with their respective owners. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 20: On the road to Vallombrosa

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