The Long Road Home
a thrilling drama series by Eildon Rhymer
Episode three: Going to L
"Well, look on the bright side," Sheppard said, two mornings later. "At least we haven't killed each other yet."
"I don't think we can." The Wraith withdrew his plastic hand from the chest area of a passing snail. "I seem to lack the equipment."
"Speak for yourself." Sheppard had still not dared check beneath his pants, but he believed in the power of positive thinking.
They had trudged through yards and gardens. They had stalked mice and rats and followed their highways. They had met no-one else who could talk to them, but sometimes, in the darkest watches of the night, Sheppard could have sworn that somebody was watching him. He heard footsteps in the blood-red of evening, and soft, cold laughter in the dew before dawn. When he turned, though, and when he sought, there was nobody there.
"We can't go on like this," he said now, surprising himself.
The Wraith turned away sadly from a caterpillar. "Like that?"
"We're searching for home." Sheppard stood up, only falling over once this time. "We're trying to find a way to change back. But which way's home?"
"Usually I am able to sense the presence of my hive. It guides me home even from the furthest reaches of the galaxy." The Wraith might have looked bereft behind its painted-on sneer. "Here, I sense nothing."
"Precisely." Sheppard jerked his hand up, dropping his pistol. "We could be walking in circles. And with these little legs, we're talking a hell of a long time to walk those circles. What were we hoping: that if we walked far enough, we'd stumble over an answer? Not going to happen. Before we go any further, we need a destination in mind."
"And how do you propose to do that?"
"We need to find out where we are, and where's the Gate
on this world. And then–" He spread his hands. "–we need to get
there. Piece of cake." So what if it might be ten thousand miles, and he
with legs three inches long. He'd faced worse in his life, and survived. Well,
perhaps not worse, but equally bad. And then there was his team. They'd be searching
for him, and would never give up. Not that they'll be looking down at ankle
level for me, but you can't have everything.
The Wraith snarled. "And you think I do not know all this, Sheppard? I have wished for–"
"But I know how to get it." Sheppard gestured stiffly with his hand, inviting the Wraith to follow him on a quick trek through several feet of uneven ground and waist-high grass. A man was sitting out in the yard, asleep on a reclining chair, with an open laptop on his stomach, a network cable snaking in through the open window. "See, it's all on the Internet now."
Moving as quickly as he could, Sheppard covered the long yards between him and his target. He only fell over three times on the way. Judging from the curses behind him, the Wraith was less steady on his feet. His legs seemed less poseable than Sheppard's. "Whoever did this," Sheppard said, tossing the words over his shoulder, "must have sent us into some alternate universe."
"How do you know that?" The Wraith's voice was muffled with dirt. Sheppard glanced round to see him contending with a worm.
"They've turned us into toys," Sheppard said. "Children's play-things. On how many worlds in our universe would parents buy a toy Wraith for their kids?"
"I have known some."
"Uh. Okay. Right." Sheppard tried again. "On how many world in our universe would people play with me?" It didn't sound quite right. "I'm no Ken doll," he said. "Believe me, this is not our universe."
But it was Earth, though; he was fairly sure of that. And that was something that he could never let the Wraith know. Even in the form of a seven inch action figure, the Wraith could not be allowed to know about Earth. If the Wraith discovered the truth… If they both found their way home again… Well, Sheppard would cross that bridge when he came to it. Many things could happen before then, when the world was full of kittens and squirrels.
"But whatever universe it is," he said, "we need to find out way out of it. Now help me get up." He gestured at the chair, where the enormous man was faintly snoring.
"You would fight the giant?"
Sheppard frowned behind his smirk. "For someone whose kind spreads terror across the galaxy, you seem to be playing the dumb sidekick today. No, I want to use his computer. Now, help me up."
It was not easy. Sheppard's hands didn't grip properly, and
his flesh was unyielding. Once, Sheppard got to within three inches of his
goal, but always he ended up falling down. It hurt. And isn't that just
wonderful. I'm made of plastic and can't bleed, but I can still feel pain.
Whoever did this to me is one sadistic son-of-a-bitch.
"What about this?" the Wraith said, as Sheppard nurses his invisible bruises after the twentieth failed attempt. He looked up wearily. The Wraith was holding two thorny twigs. "The giant's chair is soft…"
"You're a genius!" Sheppard took the twigs. Then, on sudden impulse, he headed for the edge of the flowerbed and snapped off a long tendril of rope-like greenery, and wrapped it around his body as well as he could with his stiff arms. "Now, help me up."
The Wraith did so, and Sheppard strained as hard as he could, reaching out with the twig. The first lunge missed. The second one almost caught, then pulled free. The third, though… "It worked!" Sheppard gasped, tugging at the twig. Tangled in the side of the chair's padded seat, the thorns stayed secure. Taking a deep breath, Sheppard started to climb. The thorns tore at his plastic flesh, but he carried on, until he was dragging himself onto the seat. Then, panting internally even though his plastic body was still, he turned and threw down the tendril. "Climb up," he hissed.
The Wraith did. Sheppard's stiff joints were screaming by the time the Wraith stood beside him, but there was no time to rest. The giant was sunk into the soft cushion of the seat, and his laptop was only a few inches from the level of the chair. Sheppard scrambled up, and headed for the trackpad.
"Need the Internet," he said, shielding his eyes as he peered up at the enormous screen. Far away, in the top corner, he saw an icon labelled Firefox. The mouse pointer was far away, though. He slid one foot across the trackpad, and it lurched upwards. He tried again, almost falling over, and got it half way there. One more time, and it was almost there… but then he was falling, overbalancing on his clumsy feet. Got to hit the mouse button! he thought, twisting in the air. He landed heavily, rolled, and struck the ground again. Something clicked, once, then twice…
He rolled over onto his back, and sat up. On the huge screen above him, Firefox was opening. For a moment, he was unable to move, unable to think anything clearly at all. To think that anyone could use that as a homepage! There was so much… It was… It was… He shook his head. He had seen some tough sights in his career, and this was no different. He had to ignore it, to move the pointer to the huge, gaping box at the top right, to type in his search term.
Stargate Atlantis, he thought, remembering what was written on the packaging.
He leapt for the S, and landed on it easily. T was a short reach. A was about the limit of his stride, but he managed it. R, G… A needed a leap, and then he had to leap back again for T. Then E, and a quick leap back for a space bar. Easy, he thought. Another A. T…
He stopped. L. "I can't get to L," he said. The Wraith was standing near the down arrow key. "Go to L," Sheppard hissed, with a quick glance at the still-snoring giant.
The Wraith raised its hand threateningly. "I have heard you humans say this before…"
"No. L," Sheppard whispered urgently. He drew it in the air with his hand. "Oh, forget it." With all his strength, he leapt for it. He landed shakily, almost fell, but remained upright.
Then he looked back across the endless expanse of keys. "Crap," he swore. "A again." He pointed. "You. Wraith. George. Do the A. Looks like this."
But it was too late. He was still unbalanced from his leap, and felt himself falling. His plastic limbs were not enough to catch him, and he fell onto the keyboard. "Crap!" he swore again. "Get the delete key. No, the backspace." He craned his head up, saw the gibberish on the screen. To Hell with it. Plunging through Js and Hs and Gs, he headed for the A. "Backspace." He jerked his hand at it until the Wraith found it. "Again. Again."
It was ten minutes more before they had finished typing "Stargate Atlantis."
It was ten minutes more before Sheppard knew the truth.
At the eleventh minute, the sleeping giant woke. "Sheppard!" the Wraith gasped, heading for the rope of greenery. Sheppard stamped down on the Alt key, then hurled himself bodily at the F4 key, reaching it with his fingertips. The browser closed down, but it was too late. He had been spotted. He was pinned by the giant's regard, and knew in a flash that this was one battle he could never win. He was not one to walk away from a fight, but… He fell down heavily, and lay there stiffly, playing dead.
"Jamie!" the giant bellowed. "For the last time, stop dropping your toys out of the window. This is a serious work computer. You could have lost me hours of work." A hand closed round Sheppard's body, and he felt himself flying through the air, flying and falling…
He struck the ground heavily, and that was all he knew.
******
"This is getting beyond a joke," he said, as he slowly regained consciousness. "You'd think–" He managed to move his leg, though it hurt. "–that being plastic, I wouldn't actually – ugh – be able to pass out."
"I was quite concerned," the Wraith said. George, Sheppard reminded himself.
"Yeah. Right." He struggled to sit up. The Wraith helped him, and it was all Sheppard could do not to recoil in disgust. The only thing that stopped him, perhaps, was the fact that his plastic body didn't possess the right muscles.
"Are you… intact?"
"Two hands," Sheppard said. "Ten fingers, I think. As for the rest…"
"What did you find?" George looked avid behind his snarl.
"Ah. That." Sheppard took a moment to think. He couldn't let the Wraith know that this was Earth, after all. "I've found where we need to go," he said slowly. "Turns out this Stargate Atlantis is a television show. I read transcripts." He mentally shuddered at the memories – and worse, far worse, at the things he had begun to read on forums before the giant had woken up. "Everything I read really happened. Of course, they've made everything a bit too neat, and we apparently forget about traumatic happenings almost as soon as they've happened, but it's all there."
"Are you saying that we are not real?"
Sheppard gave a mirthless laugh. "Of course we're real, in our universe. Probably real in this universe, too, somewhere, but on this world, we're played by actors. But the real question here is: how do the writers of this show know about the things we're getting up to so far away in another universe?"
George stood up, his hand raised in something that was clearly supposed to be a fist. "Because they have a Gate. No, it's more than that. They have found a way to cross over between the universes."
"Yes." Sheppard let his weary body slump back down. He had miles to go, but just for this moment, he would rest. "We have to get to where the show's created. It's our only chance of getting home."
"And where's that?"
But Sheppard said nothing, only let himself sink slowly into the greyness of sleep. Because the show was in Canada, while he and George… No. Don't go there yet. He and George… were not.
"It's gonna be a long journey," he murmured, and then he slept.
******
And now for the Blooper Reel
******
Very probably to be continued...