Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Prompt for the Round: Write a fic using any character(s) from the show that does not appear in the opening credits. No main characters are allowed.
Evan was adding a new rule to orientation: when a scientist says, “Uh-oh” grab him or her and run. Don’t waste time asking questions like, “What’s wrong, Doc?” because Bad Things Are Going To Happen.
He pushed up on his elbows and choked back a scream as fire stabbed down his leg. A glance told the tale – jagged shards of shrapnel had peppered his right side. A moan escaped as he rolled on his left and crabbed toward the wall.
The world was a muffled roar in the aftermath of the explosion. Paper danced in the air. Blue light filtered through wafting dust. Metal – warped, blackened – gouged the walls.
“I guess that alien tech wasn’t as harmless as we thought,” he murmured. Maybe he shouted. Zelenka would certainly…
“Zelenka!” Evan inched up higher and squinted through the haze. “Radek! Where are you?”
The remains of the device and a worktable littered the middle of the room. Gritting his teeth, Evan dragged himself past the table’s edge.
Zelenka lay in a crumpled heap on the far side of the room, a crimson puddle slowly spreading beneath him. Evan slapped at his comm and groaned when all he found was ear. Help had to be coming, but he wasn’t sure Radek had that long.
When he tried to stand, his right leg buckled immediately, and he hit the floor with a strangled shout. Walking was definitely out. Debris made the perimeter of the room inaccessible which left one option – crawling through the carpet of glass that lay between them.
He peeled off his uniform top and swept the area in front of him then placed his forearms on the shirt and pulled himself forward. He slid his arms along the floor, ignoring the scrape of glass ripping his skin, and hauled his body inch by inch toward Radek. Sweat beaded on his forehead, dripped in his eyes, stung the cuts on his face.
By the time he reached Zelenka, his arms felt like spaghetti. When he touched shaky fingers to the man’s neck, a weak pulse answered back. He stripped off his t-shirt and pressed it to the wound in Zelenka’s shoulder.
“Hang on, Radek.”
His arms quaked. Spots swirled in his vision. Zelenka went from pale to waxen. And when Evan was certain he couldn’t hold himself up another minute, strong hands pulled him away. Black BDUs blurred with gray and yellow medical uniforms.
A doctor leaned over him, her mouth moving too fast for Evan to follow. He fought off the encroaching darkness long enough to see Zelenka being wheeled from the room.
Once his hearing returned, he was definitely speaking to Sheppard about that new rule.
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