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au100 stories. I'm doing a 50/50 and my table is at the bottom of this entry.
Title: "Abscido"
Part: One
Prompt: Missing
For:au100
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue! No money exchanged hands.
Is: Adult Themes - Dex/Sheppard/McKay
Summary: Sateda is a nation standing against the Wraith. Once mighty, they now rely on raids to other worlds to fill their military. On Ra-Yeda, circumstance leads to the capture of two men who may be their downfall.
Abscido : to cut off, to separate, take away.
“He’s killing me.”
Brant looked across at his Taskmaster and sighed, knowing he was going to be in for a rough night and a pissy commanding officer. He scanned the line of men being ushered through the stargate and immediately his eyes picked out those his Taskmaster was having an issue with.
“Underneath all the muck, they look like they’re wearing uniforms,” Brant observed and heard a low growl.
“That’s what I mean. Why is Gaston bringing military through? He was only supposed to go to Ra-Yeda. Where the hell did they come from?”
Brant shrugged. “Not sure. One of them’s injured though.”
“Great, that’s just what we need. Is there something you’re both not telling me? Is this a very slow and annoying coup?”
Brant snorted. “Not likely. Look, there’s Gaston now,” he said, inclining his head towards a lanky man loping towards them, grim faced and dirty and favouring his right leg.
“What the hell, Gaston?” The Taskmaster barked, but then his face fell and the anger drained away when the younger man drew closer and it could be seen that he was in bad shape.
“They were on ‘Yeda when we got there, Sir,” Gaston started explaining before he’d even drawn level. “When we tried to take the requisition, they intervened.”
“Looks like they intervened pretty hard,” Brant observed.
Gaston nodded. “Yes, Sir. We lost Britt, Cleo and Tyron.”
“What? Just because of those two?”
“No, Sir. There were was also a woman and another man who got through the Ancestral ring before we could get to them. They had projectile weapons. I’ve never seen anything like them. I’ve got a slug in my goddam knee.” Gaston sneered in disgust.
The Taskmaster raised his eyebrows, leaning sideways to look past Gaston at the two men that had caught his interest. One of them was wounded and had an arm across the shoulders of the other as they were led towards the holding pens. The wounded one, even limping and dishevelled, had the lean, hungry look of a fighter about him. The other one was a curiosity, broader and with a pale face, eyes darting every which way as if cataloguing everything.
He was wearing a weapon holster and although he had the look of someone who could possibly handle himself, he was definitely no soldier and yet…
And yet…
Both men were wearing the same uniform.
“Ronon?” Brant prodded and the taller man looked at him, brow furrowed. “Sir? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking those two are going to be more trouble than they’re worth. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t be done with them now?”
Gaston dug into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out something that glinted in the light. He looked at it for a second, before handing it over. Ronon felt something cool and smooth with his fingers and when he held it up he could see it was a small badge.
A set of wings.
“He fought like hell when I took this,” Gaston said, squinting back in the direction of the man in question who was being lowered carefully inside the holding pen by his companion, who then crouched down in front of him, looking worried.
“Gaston, if you’ve brought me a pilot, you can have the last of my Bemal.”
Gaston blinked.
“Get the surgeon. If he’s a pilot, I don’t want his arm dropping off.”
>8<
There’d been yelling and further fighting when it came time to separate the two new men brought through and even though the injured one looked half dead, he still managed to break two noses, give another man a broken arm and was on his way to chewing right through an ear when he was finally put down.
The larger man had also been difficult to restrain, but much less so, which confirmed Ronon’s belief that he was not a soldier but dressed like them. Ronon had seen that tactic before so he had decided to talk to the uninjured man first, knowing that of the two of them, he would probably be easier to procure information from.
When Ronon slid through the door into the tiny room he saw the man sitting on the cot, head in hands. The only indication that he knew Ronon was in the room was a slight drop in the shoulders.
“I hear you dispatched three of my men,” Ronon said.
If he’d had any misconceptions about the man before him being the weaker link, they vanished when the man looked up. His eyes were hard and he looked angry. His mouth firmed down into a little line and he stood, fists clenched. “I’m sorry, did we get in the way of your kidnapping? How rude of us!” he spat.
Ronon was surprised to find that this man was scared, even though he didn’t outwardly show it at all. What had given him away was when he’d stood, he’d also retreated, as far from Ronon as the small room would allow. He was no coward, but was intimately aware of when he should be afraid.
“What’s your name?” Ronon asked politely and watched as the man looked surprised and then suspicious.
“Doctor Rodney McKay.”
“Doctor?” Ronon was surprised and pleased. They were desperately short of medical personnel and if Gaston had found a pilot and a Doctor then he would be getting everyone else’s Bemal.
“Where’s the Colonel? I demand to see him!” Rodney crossed his arms and jutted his chin, probably trying to look imposing but his voice quavered a little, betraying the true reason he was afraid.
Not for himself but for his companion.
“Ah, is that a rank? I thought he was military but I wasn’t sure.”
“Yes it’s a rank. Where is he? He was hurt.”
“Are you military?”
“Do I look military to you? I’m a scientist. I want to see Colonel Sheppard now.”
“He’s with my surgeon. We’re tending to his injuries,” Ronon assured but the other man didn’t look convinced.
“Look, we’re both very valuable to our people and they will be coming for us. We’re very sorry we got in the way of whatever you were doing. Just pitch us back through the ‘gate to a random planet and we’ll find our way home.”
“Where exactly are your people? I don’t recognise your uniform and we certainly haven’t seen anything like your weapons before.”
Rodney’s lips thinned so much they almost disappeared and Ronon knew he had pushed too far. Rodney had finally realised he was being questioned and he crossed back to the cot and sat down, arms still crossed. “Take me to Colonel Sheppard. We’re done talking.”
Ronon inclined his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
>8<
John opened his eyes slowly, and for a split, blissful second, he thought he was in the infirmary but the lighting was wrong, the equipment looked different and the man at his bedside was definitely not Carson Beckett.
John made to sit up but winced when hot pain lanced through his shoulder and down his arm. He brought his left hand up and gingerly felt the bandaging over his wound. The pain receded to a dull throb and he was able to focus.
“Where’s the man I was brought here with?” he asked and the tall stranger at his side laced his hands and dropped into a nearby chair.
“That was his first question too,” The man remarked, putting his feet up on John’s bed and crossing them at the ankle. John didn’t know why, but it rankled and he fought the urge to push the man’s feet off, just for spite.
“That’s not an answer.”
“He’s fine. He’s in better shape than you are, although you are in surprisingly good shape for being outnumbered like you were. There were only four of you and fifteen of us and yet two of your people got away, you were merely clipped by a blast and your scientist is completely uninjured. Three of my men are dead.”
“Don’t expect me to feel bad about that,” John snarled. He knew he wouldn’t look very menacing lying in a hospital bed but he still fought the pain long enough to sit up. “The way I see it, your guys were trying to corral some young farmers for god knows what. I’m thinking… slavery?”
The man snorted. “Interesting that’s your first thought. It obviously wasn’t your world and those people not your own… so why intervene when you were so hopelessly outnumbered?”
John went to shrug but caught himself at the last moment, knowing the pain it would cause and instead tipped his head, raising one eyebrow. “Seemed like the thing to do. We don’t have a pesky directive to worry about.”
“Directive?”
John waved his good hand. “Never mind, cultural reference. Gotta remember to stop slipping in the pop culture references when talking to aliens.”
“What does this mean?” He held up the small silver wings, clasped between two fingers and he saw John tense, fighting the compulsion to reach out and snatch for them. “Do they mean what I think they mean?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I like wings. I think they’re… pretty.” John lay back down because his vision was greying at the edges. He also didn’t like how the man before him had looked hungry when he’d asked about the wings. “I just carry them for luck. They don’t mean anything.”
The stranger sighed and stood, pushing the chair out of the way and pocketing the wings again. “If you’re not a pilot, then you’re useless to me. Your friend is a Doctor so he has a function but what I don’t need around is someone who can handle himself a little too well and will cripple my men every time an opportunity presents. I guess you’ve got to ask yourself, do you want to leave your friend alone? You look like the loyal type to me.”
John winced, watching as the man turned to leave the room and then said, “Wait.”
He turned back to face John with an expectant look.
“Yes, I’m a pilot.”
au100 stories. I'm doing a 50/50 and my table is at the bottom of this entry. Title: "Abscido"
Part: One
Prompt: Missing
For:
au100Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue! No money exchanged hands.
Is: Adult Themes - Dex/Sheppard/McKay
Summary: Sateda is a nation standing against the Wraith. Once mighty, they now rely on raids to other worlds to fill their military. On Ra-Yeda, circumstance leads to the capture of two men who may be their downfall.
Abscido : to cut off, to separate, take away.
“He’s killing me.”
Brant looked across at his Taskmaster and sighed, knowing he was going to be in for a rough night and a pissy commanding officer. He scanned the line of men being ushered through the stargate and immediately his eyes picked out those his Taskmaster was having an issue with.
“Underneath all the muck, they look like they’re wearing uniforms,” Brant observed and heard a low growl.
“That’s what I mean. Why is Gaston bringing military through? He was only supposed to go to Ra-Yeda. Where the hell did they come from?”
Brant shrugged. “Not sure. One of them’s injured though.”
“Great, that’s just what we need. Is there something you’re both not telling me? Is this a very slow and annoying coup?”
Brant snorted. “Not likely. Look, there’s Gaston now,” he said, inclining his head towards a lanky man loping towards them, grim faced and dirty and favouring his right leg.
“What the hell, Gaston?” The Taskmaster barked, but then his face fell and the anger drained away when the younger man drew closer and it could be seen that he was in bad shape.
“They were on ‘Yeda when we got there, Sir,” Gaston started explaining before he’d even drawn level. “When we tried to take the requisition, they intervened.”
“Looks like they intervened pretty hard,” Brant observed.
Gaston nodded. “Yes, Sir. We lost Britt, Cleo and Tyron.”
“What? Just because of those two?”
“No, Sir. There were was also a woman and another man who got through the Ancestral ring before we could get to them. They had projectile weapons. I’ve never seen anything like them. I’ve got a slug in my goddam knee.” Gaston sneered in disgust.
The Taskmaster raised his eyebrows, leaning sideways to look past Gaston at the two men that had caught his interest. One of them was wounded and had an arm across the shoulders of the other as they were led towards the holding pens. The wounded one, even limping and dishevelled, had the lean, hungry look of a fighter about him. The other one was a curiosity, broader and with a pale face, eyes darting every which way as if cataloguing everything.
He was wearing a weapon holster and although he had the look of someone who could possibly handle himself, he was definitely no soldier and yet…
And yet…
Both men were wearing the same uniform.
“Ronon?” Brant prodded and the taller man looked at him, brow furrowed. “Sir? What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking those two are going to be more trouble than they’re worth. Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t be done with them now?”
Gaston dug into the front pocket of his jacket and pulled out something that glinted in the light. He looked at it for a second, before handing it over. Ronon felt something cool and smooth with his fingers and when he held it up he could see it was a small badge.
A set of wings.
“He fought like hell when I took this,” Gaston said, squinting back in the direction of the man in question who was being lowered carefully inside the holding pen by his companion, who then crouched down in front of him, looking worried.
“Gaston, if you’ve brought me a pilot, you can have the last of my Bemal.”
Gaston blinked.
“Get the surgeon. If he’s a pilot, I don’t want his arm dropping off.”
>8<
There’d been yelling and further fighting when it came time to separate the two new men brought through and even though the injured one looked half dead, he still managed to break two noses, give another man a broken arm and was on his way to chewing right through an ear when he was finally put down.
The larger man had also been difficult to restrain, but much less so, which confirmed Ronon’s belief that he was not a soldier but dressed like them. Ronon had seen that tactic before so he had decided to talk to the uninjured man first, knowing that of the two of them, he would probably be easier to procure information from.
When Ronon slid through the door into the tiny room he saw the man sitting on the cot, head in hands. The only indication that he knew Ronon was in the room was a slight drop in the shoulders.
“I hear you dispatched three of my men,” Ronon said.
If he’d had any misconceptions about the man before him being the weaker link, they vanished when the man looked up. His eyes were hard and he looked angry. His mouth firmed down into a little line and he stood, fists clenched. “I’m sorry, did we get in the way of your kidnapping? How rude of us!” he spat.
Ronon was surprised to find that this man was scared, even though he didn’t outwardly show it at all. What had given him away was when he’d stood, he’d also retreated, as far from Ronon as the small room would allow. He was no coward, but was intimately aware of when he should be afraid.
“What’s your name?” Ronon asked politely and watched as the man looked surprised and then suspicious.
“Doctor Rodney McKay.”
“Doctor?” Ronon was surprised and pleased. They were desperately short of medical personnel and if Gaston had found a pilot and a Doctor then he would be getting everyone else’s Bemal.
“Where’s the Colonel? I demand to see him!” Rodney crossed his arms and jutted his chin, probably trying to look imposing but his voice quavered a little, betraying the true reason he was afraid.
Not for himself but for his companion.
“Ah, is that a rank? I thought he was military but I wasn’t sure.”
“Yes it’s a rank. Where is he? He was hurt.”
“Are you military?”
“Do I look military to you? I’m a scientist. I want to see Colonel Sheppard now.”
“He’s with my surgeon. We’re tending to his injuries,” Ronon assured but the other man didn’t look convinced.
“Look, we’re both very valuable to our people and they will be coming for us. We’re very sorry we got in the way of whatever you were doing. Just pitch us back through the ‘gate to a random planet and we’ll find our way home.”
“Where exactly are your people? I don’t recognise your uniform and we certainly haven’t seen anything like your weapons before.”
Rodney’s lips thinned so much they almost disappeared and Ronon knew he had pushed too far. Rodney had finally realised he was being questioned and he crossed back to the cot and sat down, arms still crossed. “Take me to Colonel Sheppard. We’re done talking.”
Ronon inclined his head. “I’ll see what I can do.”
>8<
John opened his eyes slowly, and for a split, blissful second, he thought he was in the infirmary but the lighting was wrong, the equipment looked different and the man at his bedside was definitely not Carson Beckett.
John made to sit up but winced when hot pain lanced through his shoulder and down his arm. He brought his left hand up and gingerly felt the bandaging over his wound. The pain receded to a dull throb and he was able to focus.
“Where’s the man I was brought here with?” he asked and the tall stranger at his side laced his hands and dropped into a nearby chair.
“That was his first question too,” The man remarked, putting his feet up on John’s bed and crossing them at the ankle. John didn’t know why, but it rankled and he fought the urge to push the man’s feet off, just for spite.
“That’s not an answer.”
“He’s fine. He’s in better shape than you are, although you are in surprisingly good shape for being outnumbered like you were. There were only four of you and fifteen of us and yet two of your people got away, you were merely clipped by a blast and your scientist is completely uninjured. Three of my men are dead.”
“Don’t expect me to feel bad about that,” John snarled. He knew he wouldn’t look very menacing lying in a hospital bed but he still fought the pain long enough to sit up. “The way I see it, your guys were trying to corral some young farmers for god knows what. I’m thinking… slavery?”
The man snorted. “Interesting that’s your first thought. It obviously wasn’t your world and those people not your own… so why intervene when you were so hopelessly outnumbered?”
John went to shrug but caught himself at the last moment, knowing the pain it would cause and instead tipped his head, raising one eyebrow. “Seemed like the thing to do. We don’t have a pesky directive to worry about.”
“Directive?”
John waved his good hand. “Never mind, cultural reference. Gotta remember to stop slipping in the pop culture references when talking to aliens.”
“What does this mean?” He held up the small silver wings, clasped between two fingers and he saw John tense, fighting the compulsion to reach out and snatch for them. “Do they mean what I think they mean?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I like wings. I think they’re… pretty.” John lay back down because his vision was greying at the edges. He also didn’t like how the man before him had looked hungry when he’d asked about the wings. “I just carry them for luck. They don’t mean anything.”
The stranger sighed and stood, pushing the chair out of the way and pocketing the wings again. “If you’re not a pilot, then you’re useless to me. Your friend is a Doctor so he has a function but what I don’t need around is someone who can handle himself a little too well and will cripple my men every time an opportunity presents. I guess you’ve got to ask yourself, do you want to leave your friend alone? You look like the loyal type to me.”
John winced, watching as the man turned to leave the room and then said, “Wait.”
He turned back to face John with an expectant look.
“Yes, I’m a pilot.”
| 001. | Beginnings | 002. | Middles | 003. | Ends | 004. | First | 005. | Last |
| 006. | Hours | 007. | Days | 008. | Weeks | 009. | Months | 010. | Years |
| 011. | Red | 012. | Grey | 013. | White | 014. | Black | 015. | Blue |
| 016. | Purple | 017. | Brown | 018. | Green | 019. | Pink | 020. | Colourless |
| 021. | Friends | 022. | Enemies | 023. | Lovers | 024. | Family | 025. | Strangers |
| 026. | Teammates | 027. | Parents | 028. | Children | 029. | Birth | 030. | Death |
| 031. | Sunrise | 032. | Sunset | 033. | Too Much | 034. | Not Enough | 035. | Sixth Sense |
| 036. | Smell | 037. | Sound | 038. | Touch | 039. | Taste | 040. | Sight |
| 041. | Shapes | 042. | Triangle | 043. | Square | 044. | Circle | 045. | Moon |
| 046. | King | 047. | Heart | 048. | Diamond | 049. | Queen | 050. | Joker |
| 051. | Water | 052. | Fire | 053. | Earth | 054. | Air | 055. | Spirit |
| 056. | Breakfast | 057. | Lunch | 058. | Dinner | 059. | Food | 060. | Drink |
| 061. | Winter | 062. | Spring | 063. | Summer | 064. | Fall | 065. | Passing |
| 066. | Rain | 067. | Snow | 068. | Lightning | 069. | Thunder | 070. | Storm |
| 071. | Broken | 072. | Fixed | 073. | Light | 074. | Dark | 075. | Shattered |
| 076. | Rebirth | 077. | Paralysis | 078. | Disease | 079. | Agony | 080. | Healing |
| 081. | Blind | 082. | Deaf | 083. | Lost | 084. | Found | 085. | Abscido - Part One |
| 086. | Choices | 087. | Life | 088. | He | 089. | She | 090. | It |
| 091. | Birthday | 092. | Christmas | 093. | Thanksgiving | 094. | Solstice | 095. | New Year |
| 096. | Writer‘s Choice | 097. | Writer‘s Choice | 098. | Writer‘s Choice | 099. | Writer‘s Choice | 100. | Writer‘s Choice |
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