Fill: Challenge #6 (Stargate Atlantis)
Jan. 21st, 2022 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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tenminutesadayNot reviewed or edited. I've been thinking about John Sheppard and how he speaks lately and felt like writing something with him in it. This is early SGA, season 1 probably.
As a side note, I need to start limiting the scope of my scenes. These long scenes are taking too much time. :)
“Sheppard!” Rodney yelled as he burst into the tavern. He ground to a halt in front of John and tapped his earpiece as he slumped against the table, panting. “Ford said… he said the squadron came… came through the gate. They’re on their way, thirty minutes at most. Well.” He coughed and swallowed. “Twenty-five now.”
“Damn!” John spat, jumping up from his seat. “I thought we’d got ‘em off the trail.” He turned to Argen. “I don’t know what their beef is with you people, but they’re not letting it go. It’s time to get you all out of here.” He primed his P90, making a show of preparing for the battle. “Now, we can hold ‘em off for a little while, maybe distract them a bit, send ‘em off in the wrong direction, but we aren’t going to be able to hold them for very long, so you’ve got to get them going now.”
“No.” Argen stood up and limped over to the sideboard to pick up his rifle, his wooden leg thumping on the wooden floorboards. “We will not run. We will fight.”
“Are you crazy?” His eyes swept over the ten or so villagers and farmers sitting around the room, a mix of fear and defiance in their eyes. “Fight with what? Pitchforks and the one rifle you won in a poker game? The Bellans have guns like ours - well, maybe not quite as good, but still a damn sight better than that thing. They’ll pick you off before you even see 'em.”
“Perhaps.” Argen checked the rifle, then handed it to his able-bodied deputy. “But this is our home. We have lived here for generations, labored to make this land productive, and we will not be forced off it.”
“You’d rather be dead on it? Come on.” John strode over and grabbed Argen by the elbow to usher him toward the door. “There’s plenty of other land for you, on this world or one of the hundreds you can reach through the stargate.”
Argen pulled his arm out of the major’s grasp. “There are hundreds out there, but this one is ours.”
Before John could launch into another tirade, Teyla stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. “They wish to remain here and fight for their home. That is their right and their choice.”
John sneered, venting his frustration in a low grunt. “It doesn’t make sense, Teyla. There're plenty of other worlds out there.”
“My people would make the same decision.” Holding her P90 close, she gestured at the watching citizens with her hand. “They are more than just individuals who happened to be born in this place. They are a people. Their history and their beliefs make them who they are, and the land is a large part of that.”
“And that’ll all be gone and dust when the Bellans gun the last of them down.”
Teyla shook her head, the pity plain in her eyes. “Do your people have nothing they love so much they would do anything to defend it?”
“Well, yeah, of course.” John shrugged. “Though where I grew up, that tended to be guns. ‘You’ll take my gun over my dead body,’ they used to say. But guns at least help you defend them.”
Teyla smiled. “I do not think that that is the same thing, Major Sheppard.”
John shook his head. “You may not think it, but it's the same. Guns are a big part of who they think they are, but also ‘cause a lot of people have died for their love of guns, and they’re gonna die here, too.”
“Then we should get out here,” Rodney advised, having finally caught his breath. “If we follow the stream out of town, we’ll avoid them coming through the forest, and then we can circle back toward the stargate.”
“Yes,” agreed Argen. “Go, Major Sheppard. This is not your fight.”
John looked from Argen to Teyla, to the other villagers, and lastly at Rodney. “No. We stay. I’m not abandoning anyone, if there’s a chance in hell of getting them through this. We can set up a defense at the outer wall of the smithy, and if I know Ford, he’s behind them looking for a chance to flank. Let’s make sure he gets the opportunity. Now, move out.”
As a side note, I need to start limiting the scope of my scenes. These long scenes are taking too much time. :)
“Sheppard!” Rodney yelled as he burst into the tavern. He ground to a halt in front of John and tapped his earpiece as he slumped against the table, panting. “Ford said… he said the squadron came… came through the gate. They’re on their way, thirty minutes at most. Well.” He coughed and swallowed. “Twenty-five now.”
“Damn!” John spat, jumping up from his seat. “I thought we’d got ‘em off the trail.” He turned to Argen. “I don’t know what their beef is with you people, but they’re not letting it go. It’s time to get you all out of here.” He primed his P90, making a show of preparing for the battle. “Now, we can hold ‘em off for a little while, maybe distract them a bit, send ‘em off in the wrong direction, but we aren’t going to be able to hold them for very long, so you’ve got to get them going now.”
“No.” Argen stood up and limped over to the sideboard to pick up his rifle, his wooden leg thumping on the wooden floorboards. “We will not run. We will fight.”
“Are you crazy?” His eyes swept over the ten or so villagers and farmers sitting around the room, a mix of fear and defiance in their eyes. “Fight with what? Pitchforks and the one rifle you won in a poker game? The Bellans have guns like ours - well, maybe not quite as good, but still a damn sight better than that thing. They’ll pick you off before you even see 'em.”
“Perhaps.” Argen checked the rifle, then handed it to his able-bodied deputy. “But this is our home. We have lived here for generations, labored to make this land productive, and we will not be forced off it.”
“You’d rather be dead on it? Come on.” John strode over and grabbed Argen by the elbow to usher him toward the door. “There’s plenty of other land for you, on this world or one of the hundreds you can reach through the stargate.”
Argen pulled his arm out of the major’s grasp. “There are hundreds out there, but this one is ours.”
Before John could launch into another tirade, Teyla stepped forward and laid a hand on his arm. “They wish to remain here and fight for their home. That is their right and their choice.”
John sneered, venting his frustration in a low grunt. “It doesn’t make sense, Teyla. There're plenty of other worlds out there.”
“My people would make the same decision.” Holding her P90 close, she gestured at the watching citizens with her hand. “They are more than just individuals who happened to be born in this place. They are a people. Their history and their beliefs make them who they are, and the land is a large part of that.”
“And that’ll all be gone and dust when the Bellans gun the last of them down.”
Teyla shook her head, the pity plain in her eyes. “Do your people have nothing they love so much they would do anything to defend it?”
“Well, yeah, of course.” John shrugged. “Though where I grew up, that tended to be guns. ‘You’ll take my gun over my dead body,’ they used to say. But guns at least help you defend them.”
Teyla smiled. “I do not think that that is the same thing, Major Sheppard.”
John shook his head. “You may not think it, but it's the same. Guns are a big part of who they think they are, but also ‘cause a lot of people have died for their love of guns, and they’re gonna die here, too.”
“Then we should get out here,” Rodney advised, having finally caught his breath. “If we follow the stream out of town, we’ll avoid them coming through the forest, and then we can circle back toward the stargate.”
“Yes,” agreed Argen. “Go, Major Sheppard. This is not your fight.”
John looked from Argen to Teyla, to the other villagers, and lastly at Rodney. “No. We stay. I’m not abandoning anyone, if there’s a chance in hell of getting them through this. We can set up a defense at the outer wall of the smithy, and if I know Ford, he’s behind them looking for a chance to flank. Let’s make sure he gets the opportunity. Now, move out.”