crossoverfic | The Saints of Atlantis 1

Title: The Saints of Atlantis
Fandoms: Boondock Saints/Stargate Atlantis
Author: Dragonfan
Rating: PG15 or Teen for violence and swearing

Dr. Angela Boswell was back on Earth for the first time in almost two years and visiting the only family member there that she had left. Her cousin Patrick worked at the Hoag Maximum Security Prison as a doctor, just as she worked as a geneticist and trauma doctor for the SGC. Star Gate Command was a black ops military project that used alien technology to explore the Milky Way Galaxy. There had been the sort of trouble that any sci-fi fan could have predicted and the first teams had accidentally started a war. Personally Angela couldn’t see any other way it could have gone. The Go’uald were a race of parasites that currently ruled a vast portion of the galaxy. They were evil, and there was no way any decent man or woman could have let them get away with the things they did, including enslaving entire planets and forcing the primitive people of those worlds to worship them as gods.

In the course of the war against the snakes, as they had been nicknamed by the soldiers, evidence had been found of a city created by the ‘gate builders – the lost city of Atlantis. The Ancients had sunk Atlantis after a disaster, but not anywhere on Earth. Atlantis was in the Pegasus Galaxy, as was now a group of scientists and military people from every country that was aware of the program. Atlantis was now a military base, run by a civilian diplomat and the purpose of the people there was twofold; to find the technology that would allow Earth’s soldiers to defeat the Go’uald once and for all and to defend the Pegasus Galaxy from the disaster that had befallen the Ancients – a predatory, sentient race known as the Wraith.

Wraith ate Humans, or rather they absorbed their life force, killing the Human and rendering the corpse into a withered husk. Angela was one of the medical staff stationed on Atlantis, and she used her background in genetics to work with the ATA gene sequence when she wasn’t patching up soldiers. Exploration was dangerous in any galaxy, but it was made all the harder in Pegasus when the technology that would give them an equal or better footing than their enemies could only be used or at least initialized, by those who possessed a certain sequence of genes. Less than one percent of the Earth’s population had the ATA gene, although her supervisor Doctor Becket had managed to create a gene therapy that allowed some people to adopt the sequence into their own genetic structures. There were still less than twenty ATA positives on a base that housed nearly three hundred people; military, scientist, and natives alike. Angela’s job was to improve the gene therapy to boost those numbers as much as possible.

Of course, Patrick didn’t know any of that. He thought that she had been working for a classified project at one of the research stations in Antarctica. “Crap!” he yelled as he looked up from the microscope he kept in his tiny home lab.

“What’s wrong?” Angela asked, looking up from her newspaper. She was sitting on the couch in the living room, separated from the lab by a long counter. News was hard to get in Atlantis and she was stocking up as much as she could, or rather she was devouring everything she could get her hands on that she couldn’t get in Pegasus, from current events to ice cream.

Patrick shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with these blood samples. It was my last hope for keeping three inmates in the infirmary. If I don’t find something they’ll be released into the general population at the end of the week.” He rubbed his face with his hands, running them up through his hair. “I can’t let that happen.”

“Why?” Angela asked. “The last time I saw you, you didn’t have any sympathy for the idiots who get themselves thrown into the Hoag.”

“These guys are different,” Patrick said. “Do you remember the vigilantes who killed Poppa Joe Yakavetta just before he could be acquitted for the third time? They killed him right in the courtroom.”

Angela nodded. “The Saints of South Boston,” she remembered out loud. “How many criminals did they kill before that? The ones that the cops couldn’t get off the streets because the system let them walk?”

“Twenty two,” Patrick said, proudly. “And they took out another fifty two when Yakavetta’s son was stupid enough to try and frame them for the murder of a priest, in a church no less. There were the fifteen Chinese drug dealers that were working with the Yakavetta family shipping heroin. Seventeen died when they went after Concezio Yakavetta himself, and another twenty when they took out his partner, some old guy who was living in a rundown mansion. They were caught walking out of the last scene, and now they’re in my infirmary. If they get sent into gen-pop, they’re dead.”

“Let me take a look,” she offered. Angela knew that it was an occupational hazard for her cousin and others who worked in some type of law enforcement to wish to be able to just kill the criminals that they came across in their work. That three men had done so, and had made a public statement that they were killing only those men who were so corrupt that they could not be redeemed, made them heroes in a lot of people’s eyes. After dealing with the likes of Koyla and the Genii, as well as the Wraith for the last two years, she was one of them.

Angela got up and pulled Patrick off of his bar stool. The small lab was actually his apartment’s kitchen, but she had known for years that he couldn’t cook. Then she gave him a shove towards his bedroom. “Go take a shower; it’ll do you good to get some heat on those muscles. You’re as tense as McKay when the coffee runs out!” As the chief science officer of Atlantis and the scientist member of Atlantis Recon Team 1 lived off of coffee that was saying something. He simply nodded his head and took her advice. He knew there was nothing more that he could do.

Angela waited until Patrick was in his bedroom before digging a small case out of her one piece of luggage. There wasn’t a whole lot of room on the Daedalus, the spaceship that made the run between galaxies, but she wasn’t the only Earth bound member of the Atlantis base that took a few pieces of Ancient tech with them when they were on leave back on Earth. For most of them the tech wasn’t anything that was likely to get them into trouble as long as no one found out about it. There were the life sign detectors, the Ancient version of an ipod, a few items that were simply handy to have around such as a hot plate that did not have to be hooked up to any external source or the hand tablets that were better than any blackberry, but her favorite was her portable medical scanner. She’d always had a fascination with Dr. McCoy’s tricorder from Star Trek and her little scanner came darn close to fitting the bill. The only thing it didn’t do was make the same noises.

Angela picked up the first blood sample and ran her scanner over it. It hummed quietly to itself before throwing up the results of its standard tests on a digital display. Well, the tests were standard for Atlantis at least. There were a number of viruses and bacteria which indicated a recovering lung injury, but nothing that was immediately dangerous. This patient was well on his way to recovery. He also had the ATA gene as a recessive, which made him a candidate for the gene therapy, but that wasn’t a consideration.

She set that sample aside and continued on to the next. There would be time later to do a more in depth scan to see if she could help keep this man from being killed. The second sample took a short time before throwing up something that she had never expected to see. The strength of the ATA gene was measured in percentages. This man’s gene sequence read as ninety eight percent. There was only one other person who had a higher known percentage; Colonel Sheppard at ninety nine percent. Most of the other ATA positives in Atlantis ran in the high eighties. “Please Lord, let this be one of the young guys,” Angela prayed as she checked the other tests. She felt a little bad praying that the sample that came from the lung shot man was the old man of the three Saints, but such a high ATA percentage was like finding a diamond in a pig sty. It just didn’t happen. There was nothing there to indicate any sort of sickness or indeed, anything that would prevent him from coming to Atlantis on a purely medical stand point.

The third blood sample was amazingly like the second. In fact, the ATA percentage was the same and one of the other tests came back showing a familial match between the two men. Angela took a deep breath and grabbed her cell phone out of her pocket. This was very likely to be these men’s only hope of survival, even if it meant throwing them into a more dangerous situation than life here in Boston was for them. “This is Doctor Boswell. Get me General O’Neill,” she said quickly.

After listening to Angela’s story O’Neill tried to make sense out of what she wanted him to do. “These guys are killers and you want me to get them out of jail and send them to Atlantis?”

“Sir,” Angela sighed. “South Boston is one of the places you could call one step up from a war zone. It’s not as bad as the projects in New York, but not far from it. The judges and lawyers are so liberal here that they practically hand the criminals get out of jail free cards at every opportunity. I know that this system isn’t perfect and it’s the best one we’ve got, but these three men stood up and started cleaning up the streets around here when no one else could or would. They’ve never harmed an innocent person. In fact, before my brother was killed in the line of duty, he told me that they went out of their way to make sure that a child was well away from home before they killed his father, a mafia hit man, and two women who were at their hits were unharmed; shaken up but not injured. Not only do they only kill criminals, but they’ve publicly stated that they only go after those who are so corrupted that they give the snakes competition for who’s the bigger evil.”

“And they’ve kept to this pledge of theirs?” O’Neill asked skeptically.

“It’s been eight years sir since they made it. I don’t know how many hits they did after they killed Poppa Joe in court before he could walk on seventeen murder charges, but I do know that their known kill count in Boston is seventy four, not a single one of whom was an innocent.”

“Seventeen?” O’Neill asked, stunned. “Just how sure are you that this guy was gonna walk?”

Angela nodded grimly, although she knew the general couldn’t see her. “Very sir. It was his third indictment in two years. No matter how much evidence the cops brought to the court’s attention, he just kept walking out a free man. From what was being reported the third time wasn’t going to be any different. The man was making jokes in court for the Lord’s sake!”

“And all seventy four of their kills were people like that?”

“Yes sir, career criminals,” Angela said. She looked over her shoulder as the sounds of Patrick’s shower ceased. “Most people agree that they’re good men sir.”

“Do you know if they’ve been convicted yet? Any deals made?” O’Neill asked. He was someone who truly understood that sometimes a man did what he had to do, regardless of his orders or what the law said about the matter. Jack had a lot of respect for men who stood up and tried to do the right thing, even if he didn’t personally agree with the way they went about doing it. At least they tried. He had known far too many people who gave up at the first sign of difficulty, or used the misfortunes of others to help only themselves.

Angela glanced at Patrick’s bedroom door. He still hadn’t come out yet. “I don’t know sir, but they are currently in the infirmary of Hoag Maximum Security Prison here in Boston. They’re scheduled to be moved into the general population at the end of the week. Sir, if they’re still in prison by then, they’re dead.”

O’Neill winced, he knew what Doctor Boswell was saying, and what she wasn’t. The minute that any of the criminals in the prison had access to these men they would be attacked and those attacks would continue until all three men were dead, no matter how long it took. Atlantis also simply could not afford to lose any ATA positives of any decent strength. “I’ll see what I can do doctor,” he promised, and hung up the phone.