29. Data Points

Like clockwork, the Hive ship dialed in to send more hunters through for Ronon. John couldn’t be absolutely positive, but he was fairly certain that the cloaking on the gateship would hide their power signature and any random frequencies as well, including the tracker that Ronon said was embedded in his back somewhere. John tried not to think about that too much.

As soon as the darts cleared the stargate John was pushing through it, just in case it was a short time frame. It was only a little disconcerting to be skimming a ruined city, fighting gravity and then be free-floating in space, but the gateship responded to him eagerly and he got everything sorted out before his passengers figured out they had wobbled at all.

It took them a moment to take in what they were seeing.

“That is one ugly ship.” John frowned.

“No one has ever seen such a thing, not like this,” the Emmagen said softly, awe in her voice.

“Never from the outside,” Ronon grunted in agreement.

“I doubt it’s any prettier from the inside,” John grumbled. The Hive ship was an affront to him as a pilot, ungainly and dirty looking. The Emmagen stared at him as if he was speaking blasphemy. He waved his hand out the viewport. “It’s like a dead pig floating in space.”

“It is a Hive Ship.”

“It’s butt ugly is what it is.”

“Do you not understand how momentous this is? That we are flying unseen next to a Hive Ship?”

“There will be legends, if anyone makes it back alive,” Ronon nodded.

“Can we focus?” John snapped. His passengers both glared at him. He pointed at the ship. “That’s huge. How in the hell are we supposed to find anyone—?” He had barely finished talking when a small compartment opened up next to him and spit out a life signs detector. “Oh, okay. Cool.”

Ronon stared at the ship while John fiddled with the LSD. “We can fly into one of the dart bays.”

John glanced up. “Yeah, that would work. Still, that’s a hell of a lot of ship to search, even with…Wait, let me try something.” He focused on the gateship, and a second later a graphic of the hive ship appeared on the HUD. Ronon and the Emmagen stayed quiet while John sorted out his requests, trying to phrase the question simply enough to not get overwhelmed with information in return. After a thoughtful pause, the gateship spit out a bunch of signals, showing as blips within the image of the Hive ship. John cursed. “No one told me we are all tagged.”

“Tagged?” Ronon frowned.

“Yeah, kind of like tracking beacons, only not. Subcutaneous transmitters so we can lock on location.”

Ronon did not look happy about that, and John himself was conflicted. It made sense and had suddenly made their job easier, but the idea that he probably had a tracker under his own skin made him squirm. It did answer his questions about how it had been so easy for Lorne and McKay to find him no matter where he was on Atlantis, though, which had seemed to damned convenient even with the LSDs. He dragged his brain back to the present.

“Okay, at least we know where they are.” He motioned at the dots, hoping to make the best of it.

“There are only seven.” The Emmagen pointed. The whole mission had been fourteen people, so counting both John and the Emmagen, that left five missing. She gave John a look that said enough.

“We’ll save who we can. That’s the best we can do,” he said, trying to sound confidant. As he angled the small ship towards a bay that looked like it was near where the Atlantis people were being kept, the Emmagen stepped up next to him and handed over one of her spare P-90s, placing it on his lap.

“My name is Telya.”

John nodded and concentrated on flying casual.

---

Mer woke up again when he was torn out of webbing by one of the drones. He tried to fight, even though logically he knew it was pointless. His lizard-brain instinct was in control and he was panic stricken, fighting against the inevitable with every ounce of energy he had.

Which wasn’t much, and didn’t get him far. The drone just hauled him up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, and Mer finally gave up. He lifted his head as the drone walked away and saw Kavanagh getting the same treatment. Somewhere, Ford was trying to yell and fight, not that he was having any more success than Mer. It was comforting to know that Ford had at least made it as far as Mer had, not that he expected that to matter much longer.

As he was bounced down the hallway on the drone’s back, Mer tried not to think about what was at the end of the line.

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