Word
Count: 519
Rating:
PG13.
Category: Action.
Story Status:
Complete.
Warning: Some language (no worse than heard in the show).
Summary: John's POV during a space battle on the Daedalus.
Author's Note: Set sometime in Season 2. Written for Round 4 of the 2nd Last
Fanfic Writer Standing challenge on LiveJournal. The prompt was:
Theme: Action Snapshot
Word count: up to 500 (+20 is allowed under the rules)
Characters: Military mainly, civilian personnel can be preset, but not as POV
Description: The story must be an action piece featuring mainly any
military personnel, but any civilian can be present as long they are
not POV of the story.
Beta:
Thank you to Jayne Perry for the beta-reading.
Under Attack
By Leesa Perrie
The ship rocked violently as the shields collapsed and an energy beam hit them.
"We've lost the 302 bay, sir," Major Jensen reported.
"Get us clear and open a hyperspace window," Colonel Caldwell ordered.
"Yes sir."
John stood to one side, watching as technicians ran between consoles,
desperately trying to fix problems even as sparks flew around,
endangering their lives in the hopes of rerouting power to vital
systems. He couldn't help but think of Rodney and how he would
have been working alongside them, just as frantic in his actions.
Only Rodney would come up with solutions that Caldwell's crew
wouldn't.
Well, maybe.
Certainly, he'd have felt more optimistic with Rodney here, not that
he'd ever admit that out loud, and certainly never to the man himself.
But Rodney wasn't here. No, he was safe back on Atlantis, laid up
with a Pegasus version of the flu. John hadn't thought him a
lucky bastard at the time, but now, he'd take aching joints, congested
lungs, fever and even sickness and diarrhoea over the Wraith any
day.
Any damned day.
He hated that he felt useless. His skills weren't particularly
needed here, especially now the 302s were gone. Caldwell's crew
were highly trained and anything he might do right now would only get
in their way.
He really hated feeling useless.
The ship shook again as the Wraith scored more hits on the hull.
"We're venting atmosphere. Bulkheads aren't responding on the lower decks."
"Hermiod, beam any life signs out from the affected areas. Harris, seal off the decks from higher up."
Affirmatives followed Caldwell's orders and John hoped that they didn't end up losing even more people.
Damn it, yet another simple mission gone south. The planet was
supposed to be uninhabited and a potential source of naquadah, but they
had picked up life signs on the surface. Before they'd had time
to ascertain that the life signs were Wraith, four cruisers along with
numerous darts left the atmosphere and started firing on them. It
seemed that they had stumbled onto a Wraith stronghold. Just
their luck.
They had taken out two of the cruisers along with some of the darts,
but at the cost of their shields. If they couldn't find a clear
space soon, they were dead. They couldn't last much longer, he
was sure, but their way was blocked with debris and ships.
The rail guns were still firing, taking out any darts that came too
close, but they were having little effect on the remaining
cruisers. This really wasn't looking good for them.
Then suddenly he saw it, clear space before them. Major Jensen
had done the seemingly impossible and outmanoeuvred the Wraith
ships. Holding his breath, he heard some of the sweetest words he
could ever hope to hear right now, and smiled.
"We're clear, sir. Jumping to hyperspace in three... two... one."
Relief swept through him as the blackness of space was replaced by blue light.
Yeah, once he was back on Atlantis, he'd tell Rodney just how lucky he was to be ill.
Not that Rodney would appreciate it, of course.
The End
