"Target" by T'Pring/Tepring (T)
Nov. 30th, 2016 02:56 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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stargateficrecShow: SGA
Rec Category: Team
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Evan Lorne, Sam Carter, Jennifer Keller, various OCs
Pairings: none
Categories: gen
Warnings: none
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tepring
Author's Website: none
Link: Target by Tepring
or read it at her LJ (parts are linked): http://tepring.livejournal.com/19049.html
Summary by the author:
Sheppard's team responds to a request by an ally world and quickly discovers that there's more going on than unusual technology scaring local shopkeepers. When John goes missing, it's up to Sam Carter and the rest to get him home safely.
Why This Must Be Read:
A suspenseful thriller in which each of the team plus Sam and Keller have to do their part to save John and prevent a catastrophe happening to Atlantis. The summary gives the impression that it's mostly Sam who gets to be the "hero of the day" but it's actually every character who contributes something important - even "has to be rescued"-John himself. *ggg* I love stories in which they work together to reach the goal, even if some of them have to do it from different locations.
Plus - it's by T'Pring which very much guarantees a stellar style of storytelling.
"This is Mitchelson. East quadrant – negative."
"McConnell. North quadrant – also negative."
"Walker at the Gate, sir. South quadrant is quiet."
John sighed and gave Ronon a meaningful look. "West quadrant quiet, so far. Hold your positions. Walker, keep the path to the gate clear, no matter what."
"Yes, sir!" came the reassuring reply.
John dropped his hand from the radio in his vest pocket, then lifted his P-90 a little higher. "I knew we should have gone East," he muttered. He could just barely see Ronon's amused snarl in the dim forest light. The sun had set half an hour ago, leaving only the faint blush of pink against the highest westerly clouds to peek through the canopy of new, spring leaves.
"Only cowards attack under cover of nightfall," was Ronon's answer to the complaint.
"Only people with an agenda attack at all. I want to know why our people are being targeted."
"Pulo said that the singing bullets have flown through the marketplace five times in the last month. No one was hurt before…"
"Before Anderson came home with a hole in his leg," John spat. "I don't find that very much of a coincidence."
"Teyla talked to the shopkeepers. They say hundreds of people come to shop, every day. From every world. Even the Satedans used to trade at the Ahk-ho-lido Market."
"Well, I hope she's talking now. Someone has to know something." John slapped at his P-90, then waved towards the nothingness with an agitated jerk of his hand. "Keep walking."
"Don't worry. The wraith queen scared her bad enough. She won't take any chances," Ronon replied, correctly interpreting his unease, damn him. John wasn't comfortable with Teyla leaving Atlantis, despite her assurances that she no longer wished to join any combat maneuvers and only intended to act as liaison as she had when they'd first established their trade relationships on this world.
Ronon chuckled at John's non-committal grunt and they both returned their full attention to the gloomy forest. The scanner in his hand showed random shadows and blips of forest life, but nothing that seemed to look human. There was a life sign the size and weight of a deer to their South. He waved Ronon in that direction, following an impulse to check out the deer. They had only moved a few meters towards it, when the lifesign spooked and bounded off the screen in great hops. John sighed again. Definitely a deer. Or whatever they called them on this planet.
"I don't see anything out here," he groused.
"Then shut up and listen."
Their steps became even softer as they picked their way over roots and rocky soil. Winter had composted the fall leaves into nothing but scattered mulch and the occasional pile of soggy rotten vegetation. Here and there, a fragile new tree struggled out of the hard-packed earth. The light faded completely, but their eyes adjusted with the sky and they were able to creep along without flashlights. The eastern horizon was already brightening with what was probably a moon or other bright satellite.
Three days ago, Anderson had stumbled home with a deep graze in his leg from one of the 'singing bullets' that had been plaguing this world for several weeks. Anderson, in fact, had gone to answer a plea from Trade Master Pulo to check out the very phenomenon that hinted at technology beyond the Pegasus Usual. It all seemed very fishy to John. He'd left Teyla with Pulo to keep an eye on him. He'd left McKay to keep an eye on Teyla.
The rest of the Marine team he'd brought were spread around the village, looking for who, or what, had launched the barrage of whistling projectiles that had swarmed the market a few hours after they'd arrived. The tiny missiles had frightened the evening shoppers and impacted alarmingly against the walls of the administrative building they had been meeting within.
"This is Sheppard. Status," he ordered into the radio again after several quiet, uneventful minutes passed under the darkened branches.
"Northern quadrant – clear. No sign of -" came the first calm response just before a panicky voice interrupted.
"Sheppard! I'm picking up energy signatures that match the singing bullets. 100 meters on your 3 o'clock." Rodney was yelling like they might hear him from the village.
John felt his face flush with adrenaline and froze. "Can you get a lock on the origin?"
"Yes and no. They just appeared out of nowhere so I don't have any idea of what the source is, but I have the coordinates for where I first picked them up. The signatures are moving your direction. Fast!"
John shot a look at Ronon then turned to jog towards the village. "Mitchellson, McConnell, meet me at the Southwest corner of the village. Rodney, send my scanner the coordinates of the origin. We need to regroup and approach the source in force."
There was a chorus of acknowledgement before Rodney butted in again.
"Sheppard, the missiles are splitting up. Two groups. One heading towards town. The other straight at you."
John slapped at the flashlight on his P-90 and ran faster, the bright beam of the light glinting off gnarled roots and dead leaves.
"You sure these aren't mini drones?" he panted into the receiver.
"No. Wrong frequency. Wrong impact crater. Wrong… Take cover!"
Rodney's shout preceded a chilling whistle that drew shivers down John's spine. The villagers called them "singing bullets" and at that moment, he agreed with the name. They gave off no visible light, none of the usual sounds of propulsion, just the screaming whistle. A streak of energy in the "wtf-rodney-figure-it-out" spectrum painted a deadly line across the scanner's softly glowing face.
"Down!" John yelled, throwing himself into a pile of rotting leaves.
Rec Category: Team
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Ronon Dex, Teyla Emmagan, Evan Lorne, Sam Carter, Jennifer Keller, various OCs
Pairings: none
Categories: gen
Warnings: none
Author on LJ:
tepringAuthor's Website: none
Link: Target by Tepring
or read it at her LJ (parts are linked): http://tepring.livejournal.com/19049.html
Summary by the author:
Sheppard's team responds to a request by an ally world and quickly discovers that there's more going on than unusual technology scaring local shopkeepers. When John goes missing, it's up to Sam Carter and the rest to get him home safely.
Why This Must Be Read:
A suspenseful thriller in which each of the team plus Sam and Keller have to do their part to save John and prevent a catastrophe happening to Atlantis. The summary gives the impression that it's mostly Sam who gets to be the "hero of the day" but it's actually every character who contributes something important - even "has to be rescued"-John himself. *ggg* I love stories in which they work together to reach the goal, even if some of them have to do it from different locations.
Plus - it's by T'Pring which very much guarantees a stellar style of storytelling.
"This is Mitchelson. East quadrant – negative."
"McConnell. North quadrant – also negative."
"Walker at the Gate, sir. South quadrant is quiet."
John sighed and gave Ronon a meaningful look. "West quadrant quiet, so far. Hold your positions. Walker, keep the path to the gate clear, no matter what."
"Yes, sir!" came the reassuring reply.
John dropped his hand from the radio in his vest pocket, then lifted his P-90 a little higher. "I knew we should have gone East," he muttered. He could just barely see Ronon's amused snarl in the dim forest light. The sun had set half an hour ago, leaving only the faint blush of pink against the highest westerly clouds to peek through the canopy of new, spring leaves.
"Only cowards attack under cover of nightfall," was Ronon's answer to the complaint.
"Only people with an agenda attack at all. I want to know why our people are being targeted."
"Pulo said that the singing bullets have flown through the marketplace five times in the last month. No one was hurt before…"
"Before Anderson came home with a hole in his leg," John spat. "I don't find that very much of a coincidence."
"Teyla talked to the shopkeepers. They say hundreds of people come to shop, every day. From every world. Even the Satedans used to trade at the Ahk-ho-lido Market."
"Well, I hope she's talking now. Someone has to know something." John slapped at his P-90, then waved towards the nothingness with an agitated jerk of his hand. "Keep walking."
"Don't worry. The wraith queen scared her bad enough. She won't take any chances," Ronon replied, correctly interpreting his unease, damn him. John wasn't comfortable with Teyla leaving Atlantis, despite her assurances that she no longer wished to join any combat maneuvers and only intended to act as liaison as she had when they'd first established their trade relationships on this world.
Ronon chuckled at John's non-committal grunt and they both returned their full attention to the gloomy forest. The scanner in his hand showed random shadows and blips of forest life, but nothing that seemed to look human. There was a life sign the size and weight of a deer to their South. He waved Ronon in that direction, following an impulse to check out the deer. They had only moved a few meters towards it, when the lifesign spooked and bounded off the screen in great hops. John sighed again. Definitely a deer. Or whatever they called them on this planet.
"I don't see anything out here," he groused.
"Then shut up and listen."
Their steps became even softer as they picked their way over roots and rocky soil. Winter had composted the fall leaves into nothing but scattered mulch and the occasional pile of soggy rotten vegetation. Here and there, a fragile new tree struggled out of the hard-packed earth. The light faded completely, but their eyes adjusted with the sky and they were able to creep along without flashlights. The eastern horizon was already brightening with what was probably a moon or other bright satellite.
Three days ago, Anderson had stumbled home with a deep graze in his leg from one of the 'singing bullets' that had been plaguing this world for several weeks. Anderson, in fact, had gone to answer a plea from Trade Master Pulo to check out the very phenomenon that hinted at technology beyond the Pegasus Usual. It all seemed very fishy to John. He'd left Teyla with Pulo to keep an eye on him. He'd left McKay to keep an eye on Teyla.
The rest of the Marine team he'd brought were spread around the village, looking for who, or what, had launched the barrage of whistling projectiles that had swarmed the market a few hours after they'd arrived. The tiny missiles had frightened the evening shoppers and impacted alarmingly against the walls of the administrative building they had been meeting within.
"This is Sheppard. Status," he ordered into the radio again after several quiet, uneventful minutes passed under the darkened branches.
"Northern quadrant – clear. No sign of -" came the first calm response just before a panicky voice interrupted.
"Sheppard! I'm picking up energy signatures that match the singing bullets. 100 meters on your 3 o'clock." Rodney was yelling like they might hear him from the village.
John felt his face flush with adrenaline and froze. "Can you get a lock on the origin?"
"Yes and no. They just appeared out of nowhere so I don't have any idea of what the source is, but I have the coordinates for where I first picked them up. The signatures are moving your direction. Fast!"
John shot a look at Ronon then turned to jog towards the village. "Mitchellson, McConnell, meet me at the Southwest corner of the village. Rodney, send my scanner the coordinates of the origin. We need to regroup and approach the source in force."
There was a chorus of acknowledgement before Rodney butted in again.
"Sheppard, the missiles are splitting up. Two groups. One heading towards town. The other straight at you."
John slapped at the flashlight on his P-90 and ran faster, the bright beam of the light glinting off gnarled roots and dead leaves.
"You sure these aren't mini drones?" he panted into the receiver.
"No. Wrong frequency. Wrong impact crater. Wrong… Take cover!"
Rodney's shout preceded a chilling whistle that drew shivers down John's spine. The villagers called them "singing bullets" and at that moment, he agreed with the name. They gave off no visible light, none of the usual sounds of propulsion, just the screaming whistle. A streak of energy in the "wtf-rodney-figure-it-out" spectrum painted a deadly line across the scanner's softly glowing face.
"Down!" John yelled, throwing himself into a pile of rotting leaves.
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