![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chaletianTitle: Picked Up By Those Behind
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: SGA
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: A sequel to The Lost Expedition. Five times Essie Malcolm’s daughter finds evidence of the fate of the first Atlantis expedition as she attempts to stop the Genii from taking over the Pegasus galaxy.
~1~
~2~
~3~
~4~
“Are you sure this is the right place?” whispered Nell as they crept down a poorly lit corridor.
“Yes,” replied Toran.
“Only, it’s a museum,” said Nell.
Toran paused for an instant, and raised a wry eyebrow. “As well you mentioned it,” he said. “The sign at the entrance provided no clue.”
She sneered. “Ha. Give you a crucial wartime mission and suddenly you’re a comedian.”
They continued creeping along until they reached an unmarked door tucked beneath a staircase. Toran pointed silently, and Nell nodded in agreement. She reached for the door handle and turned it gently, her expression registering surprise as it opened smoothly. They both slipped inside, and closed the door softly behind them. Ahead lay another corridor, even more dimly lit than the last, with a flight of stairs off to one side. The glow of artificial light rose from the room at the bottom of the stairs, and a voice could just about be heard.
“Terfal,” mouthed Nell, and Toran nodded. Silently, they edged down the steps far enough that they could see what lay below: a large holding room, brightly lit, and commonplace for any museum. Given that this was the Genii Museum of Antiquities, one of the biggest in the entire Pegasus galaxy, there must be many such rooms. It was filled with rack upon rack of archive boxes; items belonging to or on loan to the museum that weren’t currently being exhibited. Towards the end of the room sat Ewin Terfal, his dumpy body leaning over something while he muttered away to himself, scrawling on a tablet monitor.
“I thought this was supposed to be some sort of lab?” whispered Nell, as she and Toran hunkered down behind one of the racks of boxes closest to the stairs.
“We thought so too. Terfal has been coming here for many years; he has been a dozen times in the last month alone. Our intelligence is convinced there is something he is using to make a weapon.”
“A biological weapon,” clarified Nell.
Torran nodded. “Something that can be directed specifically at your people and mine. Terfal has been developing it for some months; we’re not sure how it works.”
“Maybe there’s some Ancient tech here, something he’s using to help him build it,” Nell suggested, and Torran nodded again.
“I assume so.”
They watched Terfal for a few moments longer. “So,” said Nell, “what do your people say? If we take him out here, is there anyone who can finish his work?”
Torran shook his head. “No. He always works alone. Our spies say his notes are heavily encrypted, so even those would be of no use.” His face was sober and set. “According to the Genii intel we picked up on Versall last week, they’re planning on using this weapon at the Trigantine festival tomorrow. There’s a whole colony of Soffies there, who’ve had nothing to do with this.” Anger tinged his voice. “We must stop them, Nell! They mustn’t use this weapon.”
Nell looked at him silently for a moment, then checked her watch. “His guard will be here in ten minutes,” she said. “If we’re going to do this, we do it now.”
“You are sure it will work?”
“We’re gonna find out,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her standard-issue pants and pulling out a slim black case. She flipped it open, and took out the hypospray. “He may be armed,” she said warningly, and Toran nodded, before edging down the far side of the shelves, following them down till he drew parallel with Terfal's desk. Nell followed suit, making her way down the other side of the room. As Terfal continued his work, hunched, muttering and oblivious, Nell and Toran exchanged a look across the width of the room, then, with a nod, moved in simultaneously. There was no fight, and precious little struggle: Terfal was a scientist without even a nod to physical prowess, and was not expecting any kind of attack. Nell pressed the syringe to his neck, and he slumped forward. “He should be out for a couple of hours,” she said, “and after that he shouldn’t remember a single thing.”
“Good. Get his work,” ordered Toran, pulling the unconscious man back off the desk. Nell pulled off the small backpack she was wearing, and stuffed the monitor into it. Her hand hovered over the other object on the desk. It was like a metal book, half open, with a black screen. There was a museum sticker on it, faded and scuffed now, suggesting the book had been at the museum a long time. “Take that, too,” said Toran. He had pushed Terfal to the floor; Nell recognised the recovery position.
“OK,” she said, and carefully closed the book. She was putting it in the backpack, when something caught her eye. An aged sticker, older than the museum one, was stuck to the bottom of the book. Its colours and design were barely distinguishable now, but it was still possible to make out a series of concentric rings, each with a solid circle attached: the mark of Toran's mysterious 'Brotherhood'. “Hey,” she said, nudging his arm, “check it out! This must've belonged to someone you...” She stopped as Toran suddenly grabbed her arm and started hustling her towards the stairs.
“Someone's coming,” he said tersely, and Nell checked her watch.
“They're a couple minutes early,” she said, pulling on the backpack as they ran up the stairs and back along the darkened corridor to the door that led to the public areas of the museum, where Toran detached the tiny camera that connected to his mobcomm.
“They've gone that way,” said Toran, nodding down the hallway.
“OK, then,” said Nell, heading in the opposite direction, Toran at her heels. They hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when suddenly brilliant lights flared, and the two intruders came to a sudden halt, half-blinded by the light.
“Now, what do we have h...” The voice was recognisable as belonging to Massi Corda, one of the Genii's go-to guys, a man whose path Nell and Toran had crossed on more than one occasion, and they didn't wait for him to continue before turning and haring back down the corridor, trying to ignore the sounds of pursuit.
“Great. Now what?” demanded Nell, a little breathlessly, skidding round a corner. “They'll have the entrances covered. Roof won't help us.”
“Back to the store rooms,” said Toran. “Stee says they were built with separate exits. Not used in years, but currently it is our only option.”
“Whatever works,” said Nell. There were men directly behind them now, pulse weapons drawn, and Nell saw Toran wince as one shot came too close for comfort. They turned another corner as a blazing pain seared through Nell's right side, and tumbled through the same door they had used before, Toran scrabbling through his pockets for a flexible explosive that would effectively seal the door.
“The store rooms should lead to riverside exits,” said Toran, running back down the corridor, and taking the stairs three at a time. “Hurry; it won’t take them long to—Nell? What is wrong?”
“Zigged where I shoulda zagged,” said Nell, clutching her side and stumbling down the stairs behind him. “Frack!” Red bled through her fingers where they pressed against the wound, and it was only with effort that she kept upright.
“We cannot stop,” said Toran urgently, putting an arm around her waist to hurry her along. “I think the exit must be at the end of the room.” They stumbled down the wide central aisle, past Terfal’s body where it still lay unconscious on the floor, until they reached the end of the room, where Toran left Nell propped up against a stack as he investigated the dark recess of the far corner.
“Anytime soon!” hissed Nell, shifting uncomfortably, all to aware of the noise that indicated Massi Corda and his men were determined to force their way into the room.
“Got it!” Toran reappeared, backlit by a narrow path of moonlight. “If we can make it down to the Karnistrass, we should be safe. Lean on me.”
“My hero,” replied Nell wryly, then drew in a sharp breath as they started moving. Toran looked down at her, and grinned, the expression so unusual Nell missed a step.
“That is my constant aim,” he said, and closed the museum side door behind them as Massi Corda clattered down the stairs. “Come, Nell. I will keep you safe.”
to be continued...
Author:
chaletianFandom: SGA
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: None
Summary: A sequel to The Lost Expedition. Five times Essie Malcolm’s daughter finds evidence of the fate of the first Atlantis expedition as she attempts to stop the Genii from taking over the Pegasus galaxy.
~1~
~2~
~3~
~4~
“Are you sure this is the right place?” whispered Nell as they crept down a poorly lit corridor.
“Yes,” replied Toran.
“Only, it’s a museum,” said Nell.
Toran paused for an instant, and raised a wry eyebrow. “As well you mentioned it,” he said. “The sign at the entrance provided no clue.”
She sneered. “Ha. Give you a crucial wartime mission and suddenly you’re a comedian.”
They continued creeping along until they reached an unmarked door tucked beneath a staircase. Toran pointed silently, and Nell nodded in agreement. She reached for the door handle and turned it gently, her expression registering surprise as it opened smoothly. They both slipped inside, and closed the door softly behind them. Ahead lay another corridor, even more dimly lit than the last, with a flight of stairs off to one side. The glow of artificial light rose from the room at the bottom of the stairs, and a voice could just about be heard.
“Terfal,” mouthed Nell, and Toran nodded. Silently, they edged down the steps far enough that they could see what lay below: a large holding room, brightly lit, and commonplace for any museum. Given that this was the Genii Museum of Antiquities, one of the biggest in the entire Pegasus galaxy, there must be many such rooms. It was filled with rack upon rack of archive boxes; items belonging to or on loan to the museum that weren’t currently being exhibited. Towards the end of the room sat Ewin Terfal, his dumpy body leaning over something while he muttered away to himself, scrawling on a tablet monitor.
“I thought this was supposed to be some sort of lab?” whispered Nell, as she and Toran hunkered down behind one of the racks of boxes closest to the stairs.
“We thought so too. Terfal has been coming here for many years; he has been a dozen times in the last month alone. Our intelligence is convinced there is something he is using to make a weapon.”
“A biological weapon,” clarified Nell.
Torran nodded. “Something that can be directed specifically at your people and mine. Terfal has been developing it for some months; we’re not sure how it works.”
“Maybe there’s some Ancient tech here, something he’s using to help him build it,” Nell suggested, and Torran nodded again.
“I assume so.”
They watched Terfal for a few moments longer. “So,” said Nell, “what do your people say? If we take him out here, is there anyone who can finish his work?”
Torran shook his head. “No. He always works alone. Our spies say his notes are heavily encrypted, so even those would be of no use.” His face was sober and set. “According to the Genii intel we picked up on Versall last week, they’re planning on using this weapon at the Trigantine festival tomorrow. There’s a whole colony of Soffies there, who’ve had nothing to do with this.” Anger tinged his voice. “We must stop them, Nell! They mustn’t use this weapon.”
Nell looked at him silently for a moment, then checked her watch. “His guard will be here in ten minutes,” she said. “If we’re going to do this, we do it now.”
“You are sure it will work?”
“We’re gonna find out,” she said, reaching into the pocket of her standard-issue pants and pulling out a slim black case. She flipped it open, and took out the hypospray. “He may be armed,” she said warningly, and Toran nodded, before edging down the far side of the shelves, following them down till he drew parallel with Terfal's desk. Nell followed suit, making her way down the other side of the room. As Terfal continued his work, hunched, muttering and oblivious, Nell and Toran exchanged a look across the width of the room, then, with a nod, moved in simultaneously. There was no fight, and precious little struggle: Terfal was a scientist without even a nod to physical prowess, and was not expecting any kind of attack. Nell pressed the syringe to his neck, and he slumped forward. “He should be out for a couple of hours,” she said, “and after that he shouldn’t remember a single thing.”
“Good. Get his work,” ordered Toran, pulling the unconscious man back off the desk. Nell pulled off the small backpack she was wearing, and stuffed the monitor into it. Her hand hovered over the other object on the desk. It was like a metal book, half open, with a black screen. There was a museum sticker on it, faded and scuffed now, suggesting the book had been at the museum a long time. “Take that, too,” said Toran. He had pushed Terfal to the floor; Nell recognised the recovery position.
“OK,” she said, and carefully closed the book. She was putting it in the backpack, when something caught her eye. An aged sticker, older than the museum one, was stuck to the bottom of the book. Its colours and design were barely distinguishable now, but it was still possible to make out a series of concentric rings, each with a solid circle attached: the mark of Toran's mysterious 'Brotherhood'. “Hey,” she said, nudging his arm, “check it out! This must've belonged to someone you...” She stopped as Toran suddenly grabbed her arm and started hustling her towards the stairs.
“Someone's coming,” he said tersely, and Nell checked her watch.
“They're a couple minutes early,” she said, pulling on the backpack as they ran up the stairs and back along the darkened corridor to the door that led to the public areas of the museum, where Toran detached the tiny camera that connected to his mobcomm.
“They've gone that way,” said Toran, nodding down the hallway.
“OK, then,” said Nell, heading in the opposite direction, Toran at her heels. They hadn't gone more than a hundred yards when suddenly brilliant lights flared, and the two intruders came to a sudden halt, half-blinded by the light.
“Now, what do we have h...” The voice was recognisable as belonging to Massi Corda, one of the Genii's go-to guys, a man whose path Nell and Toran had crossed on more than one occasion, and they didn't wait for him to continue before turning and haring back down the corridor, trying to ignore the sounds of pursuit.
“Great. Now what?” demanded Nell, a little breathlessly, skidding round a corner. “They'll have the entrances covered. Roof won't help us.”
“Back to the store rooms,” said Toran. “Stee says they were built with separate exits. Not used in years, but currently it is our only option.”
“Whatever works,” said Nell. There were men directly behind them now, pulse weapons drawn, and Nell saw Toran wince as one shot came too close for comfort. They turned another corner as a blazing pain seared through Nell's right side, and tumbled through the same door they had used before, Toran scrabbling through his pockets for a flexible explosive that would effectively seal the door.
“The store rooms should lead to riverside exits,” said Toran, running back down the corridor, and taking the stairs three at a time. “Hurry; it won’t take them long to—Nell? What is wrong?”
“Zigged where I shoulda zagged,” said Nell, clutching her side and stumbling down the stairs behind him. “Frack!” Red bled through her fingers where they pressed against the wound, and it was only with effort that she kept upright.
“We cannot stop,” said Toran urgently, putting an arm around her waist to hurry her along. “I think the exit must be at the end of the room.” They stumbled down the wide central aisle, past Terfal’s body where it still lay unconscious on the floor, until they reached the end of the room, where Toran left Nell propped up against a stack as he investigated the dark recess of the far corner.
“Anytime soon!” hissed Nell, shifting uncomfortably, all to aware of the noise that indicated Massi Corda and his men were determined to force their way into the room.
“Got it!” Toran reappeared, backlit by a narrow path of moonlight. “If we can make it down to the Karnistrass, we should be safe. Lean on me.”
“My hero,” replied Nell wryly, then drew in a sharp breath as they started moving. Toran looked down at her, and grinned, the expression so unusual Nell missed a step.
“That is my constant aim,” he said, and closed the museum side door behind them as Massi Corda clattered down the stairs. “Come, Nell. I will keep you safe.”
to be continued...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-05-17 11:43 pm (UTC)Love the sense of drift and shift, the sense of our future being their forgotten past.