Five Ways Colonel Marshal Sumner Died

Who shall give account to him that is ready to judge the quick and the dead.  
— I Peter 4:5


One

Water had been a constant on this adventure so far.  The weird not-really water of the Stargate, the ocean that covered the no-longer-lost city of Atlantis, and now the pressure...the pressure on his brain from the horrible thing in front of him.  The Wraith could read minds or at least affect them in some way.  It was like being underwater, feeling all that weight push in on you squeezing out the thoughts that should have stayed hidden.  Marshal was, above all things, a Marine and Marines didn't bend, didn't break.  

That didn't seem to matter to the Wraith female.  

He already knew that he was going to die.  When the first Wraith had taken the man--now nothing but a dried-up husk—from the cell and had ignored him completely, he knew that his life was forfeit.  There would be no rescue.  There would be no flag-draped coffin.  His family would never know what happened to him.  He had known that it was a possibility when he signed up for the mission, but part of him, the part that hadn't been stomped down by the Marine Corps, railed against his fate.  

Marshal wondered what his life would have been like had he not joined the Corps.  He probably would have followed in his father's footsteps and taken over the family farm.  He'd have worked himself to death day by day instead of having his life sucked out of him in seconds.  

He thought about the weary look on his father's face every night when he came in to supper.  He thought about the proud tears his mother had shed when he stood at attention for her in his dress uniform.  He wondered if the Wraith was getting all these thoughts and feelings along with all his years to come.

It was a blessing when he saw the glint of Sheppard's sight in the distance.  Marshal nodded.

Semper Fi.


---


Two

Marshal reminded himself that strangling Doctor McKay wasn't an option.  He hadn't given much thought to what it would be like to be trapped in another galaxy with the man.  If he had, he might have told General O'Neill that he'd happily pass on the mission.  Of course, it was another thing all together to have the man on his team.  Weir had insisted that he needed a scientist.  Marshal would have argued, but after that incident with the shadow monster or whatever it was, he let it slide.  And maybe it wouldn't have been so bad to have just McKay.  After all, he'd learned from his missions for the SGC that it was fun to have a geek to rag on in the field.  The problem was that he wasn't just saddled with McKay.  He'd had had to take Sheppard as well.

The two of them yapping back and forth was enough to give anyone a headache.  It was true that he could have left Sheppard back on Atlantis, but if he had the major would have been the highest rank and thus in charge of the city whenever Marshal was gone.  That just didn't sit right with him.  So Sheppard came along if only because Marshal knew that he could trust Bates back home.  Ford was no problem; he was a good Marine and did what he was told.  Teyla, on the other hand...  He and Teyla just didn't see eye to eye, and he doubted they ever would.  He had left most of that up to Sheppard since the two of them shared what Dr. Weir called a rapport.  Sheppard had just better keep that rapport nonphysical, if he knew what was good for him.

Teyla had assured him that the Genii were a gentle and peaceful people.  Considering how well their luck had been going, it really had been no surprise that they turned out to be a bunch of Nazi impersonators.  It was all McKay's fault.  If he hadn't been nosy about the energy readings, they would have never discovered the Genii's secret.  Still, McKay was the head of the science division, and so Marshal couldn't strangle him.  

He could knock him out of the way when Cowen drew his weapon.  And he could take a bullet in the skull for the man.

The last thought that passed through Marshal's mind before the bullet was, "Thank God.  At least now I'll get some peace and quiet."


---


Three

"Colonel Sumner!  You need to draw your men back to the Gate room.  Colonel Sum—" Weir's words were cut off as the water soaked his radio.  He felt the sharp sting of electricity in his ear as the piece shorted out.

He grabbed the back of Bates' jacket and shoved him up the stairs they were both trying to climb.  The Marine found his feet and turned back to help Marshal up.  When he and his men, soaking wet, reached the top of the stairs, they found the doorway sealed.  Markham had his hand on the door control and was wearing an intense look of concentration.  He glanced over at Stackhouse, and the other man shook his head.  No matter how hard Markham focused, the door wasn't going to open.  The water had crested the top of the stairs, and rivulets ran towards them, proving the floor wasn't level any longer.  Atlantis was sinking.

He looked over at Bates to see the man was losing it.  Marshal reached out and grabbed Bates' arm.

"Bates!  Stay with me, Marine!"

"Yes, sir!"

The water was most of the way up their legs and the room's incline had increased.  Marshal looked around for a way to save his men, but there were no windows to shoot out, no other doors they could try except the ones at the bottom of the stairs, the ones the water was coming from.

"It's no good, sir!" Markham yelled over the sound of the water.

The water was up to his chest when Marshal finally smirked and admitted defeat.

"It could be worse, boys."

"Colonel?" Bates yelled.  He was already floating a bit.

"We could be Navy.  Then this would be really embarrassing."

The men looked at him for a moment before Stackhouse chuckled.  The others slowly followed suit.  They were still laughing when their heads touched the ceiling.  Less than a minute later, the room was completely full.


---


Four

Marshal stood by Sheppard as the men readied the makeshift gallows.  Ropes were biting into his wrists where they were tied behind his back.

"Reminds me of an old western.  What was that one where they hung Clint Eastwood, but he didn't die, and he went after them all later as a law man?" he asked.

"Pale Rider?" Sheppard replied, looking up at the sky.

"No, that was the one where he's the preacher in the mining town."

"Hang 'Em High," Sheppard said, looking pleased that he had remembered.

"That's it.  You like Clint?" he asked as the priests started chanting something and burning some damn stinky incense.

"He's all right.  I've always been more of a Bronson man myself."

"He's good."

"Magnificent Seven—best western ever."

"I won't argue with you there.  I always wanted to be like Robert Vaughn in that movie.  Cool as a cucumber.  I'll bet you wanted to be Steve McQueen."

"Everybody wants to be Steve McQueen," Sheppard said with a smirk.

The priests finished their chanting and the local magistrate started up with a speech.  Marshal watched the perimeter.  The best access was from the west, but there were a lot of innocent Yannics between that entrance and the stage where they were being hanged.  It didn't help that the town walls had sentries.  Of course, all of the intel was only good if Ford had made it to the Stargate.

Sumner sighed.  "Yul Brenner should have made more westerns."

"He was surprisingly good in the King and I."

Marshal looked over at his subordinate with a raised eyebrow.  "You like musicals, Major?  You trying to tell me something?"

"No, sir.  That would be against the rules, sir."

Sheppard's grin was blinding.  It was no wonder the sixteen-year-old virgin priestess had gone ga-ga over him.  Most of the women they met seemed to.  Sheppard never really showed much interest, though.  Usually, he was too busy making funny comments at McKay.  Marshal thought about those two and suddenly got a mental image he could have done without.

"It's a good thing McKay's not here," he said.  "We'd never hear the end of the bitching and whining."

Sheppard's face softened.  "Yeah, it's a good thing."

The magistrate finished his speech and the local judge, or at least the Yannics' version of a judge, got up to read off the rather long list of their offences.  He was unsurprised to note that the major's name popped up more often than his own.

Sheppard frowned at this.  "I don't think they like me."

"That priestess sure seemed to."

"And we're back to this being my fault again are we, sir?"

"Did you ever once think there's a reason I'm always gruff offworld, Major?"

"Is it because you never have sixteen-year-old virgin priestesses show up in your room at night and drop their dresses?"  Sheppard said with a smirk.  When Marshal squinted at him, he quickly added a "Sir."

He found himself grinning back at the smartass.  There was just something about Sheppard that was just damned likeable.  Marshal knew how hard it was to resist because somehow he still liked the major no matter how hard he had tried not to.

"That must be it," he said.

The judge finished and two guards pulled them up to the nooses hanging down from the frame above them.  They were tied intricately and totally unlike the nooses he knew from westerns back home.  Then again, the people were aliens, so they would do things differently.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sheppard struggle a bit as the guard pulled the rope tight around his neck.

"Still with me, Major?"

"Yeah, I just don't like things touching my neck, not since that bug thing."

"Well, right now I'm not too hot about the idea either."

There was drumming off behind them somewhere.  Marshal checked the west again, but there was no sign of movement.

"Looks like we're not getting rescued," Sheppard said quietly.

The drums' tempo increased.  Marshal stared straight ahead.  "Looks like."

"I'm sorry if I gave you a hard time, sir."

"I'm sorry I never really gave you a chance, John.  You're a good officer."

"Thank you, sir."

"Marshal."

"Thank you, Marshal."

The drums stopped abruptly.  There was the quick sensation of falling before the slack in the rope was taken up with a jerk.


---


Five

Marshal had never given much thought to the shot that Beckett had given him several weeks into their stay on Atlantis.  They had needed all the people they could get with the ATA gene, whether it was natural or artificial.  He certainly hadn't expected it to take, but it had.  Sheppard had seemed amused that the colonel was one of the chosen few.  

He never really used the gene.  Oh, occasionally he was forced to fly a Puddle Jumper, and how obnoxious that had been, getting flying lessons from a smirking Air Force major.  No one ever asked him to turn things on like they did with Sheppard and Beckett.  In fact, it seemed most people forgot he had the thing at all.

He did find the life signs detector useful, but it was pretty much the only Ancient technology he came in contact with.  Mostly, he was too busy being in charge of the military contingent and trying to keep their butts safe from the Wraith.  He left the fancy gene skills to the major, and everyone was happy.

So he was sure it was a surprise to everyone when he brushed past Zelenka and jumped into the Jumper with its nuclear payload.  As he was pulling the ship up out of the hanger, he could see Sheppard running in through the door, apparently having had the same idea as him.  It was only the distance of the chair room that had saved Sheppard's life.  Marshal hoped that the major wouldn't have to repeat his trip.  The radio crackled the moment he cleared the hanger door.

"Colonel!"

"Stand down, Sheppard."

"Colonel Sumner?" he heard Weir say in a shocked voice.

"Doctor Weir, you need to get to the alpha site, ma'am.  We still don't know if this will work."

"I'm not abandoning the city unless I have to, Colonel."

Marshal smiled.  He admired the woman's backbone.  He was positive that she'd make a good Marine despite her mamby-pamby social sciences background.  He didn't get the chance to tell her so as the radio was taken over with a growl.

"Damn it, Marshal, what are you doing?  Major!  Give me a sit rep!"

"Colonel Everett, there was something wrong with the Jumper interface.  We can't control them remotely.  Colonel Sumner is piloting one of the ships himself, sir."

"Marshal, you crazy bastard, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"My job, Dillon, same as always.  I'm relieving myself of command.  I want you to order Major Sheppard not to take the second Jumper."

"Sir!" Sheppard yelled, sounding very displeased.

"Shut up, Major."

Dillon spat out a few more curses, but did what Marshal had asked.  He could hear Sheppard's clipped, "Yes, sir" and knew damn well the man would ignore the order if he saw fit.

"Marshal..." Dillon said, and there was an emotion in his voice that the colonel hadn't heard in a long time.

"I'm sorry, Ev.  Keep my city safe.  Shields are up.  I'm slipping by their defenses now.  I should make contact in three minutes."

Suddenly, there was a loud blast of gunfire, and he almost ripped the earpiece out.  He could hear several voices overlapping on the open com.

"Colonel Everett!  Sir, respond!" Sheppard was yelling over Weir's own attempt at confirmation.

Marshal gripped the Jumper controls tightly and pushed the ship on faster.  The hive ship was huge this close up, and he could see swarms of the Wraith Darts heading down towards the city.  Marshal gritted his teeth and started humming the Star-Spangled Banner under his breath.  He had always enjoyed a good fireworks show.


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