“Thank you, sir,” Agosten said. “It’s much appreciated.”
Bartolan waved him to a seat and busied himself with the tea service. “I’m pleased with the way the transmission went.”
“Yes, indeed,” Agosten said. “It went very well. A most impressive show for the homeworld.”
Bartolan passed the tea across, and seated himself. “That was the intent.” He reached for his own tea, took a deep swallow. “Chief Ladon should be pleased once we return home.”
“About that.” Agosten set his cup carefully on the edge of the desk. “I know we’re scheduled to return to the homeworld directly, but — something has come up.”
“‘Something’?”
“With your permission?” Agosten gestured to his jacket pocket, and Bartolan nodded. That was military caution for you: men had been shot before for reaching into their clothes without warning.
“When we were on Teos, one of their researchers contacted me,” Agosten said. He pulled a gray box the size of a child’s hand from an inner pocket, and set it on the desk beside the tea. The cabin’s lights glittered from fine pink-gold threads woven into the box’s dull surface. “There are significant Ancient ruins on Teos, as you know, and a sizable industry in relics. My contact was unable to determine the purpose of this box, and was willing to trade it to me in exchange for some replacement parts for one of their power systems. I recognized it as a mid-period style of data block, but wasn’t able to initiate it on Teos.”
Agosten’s version of the ATA gene was artificial, and less reliable than Bartolan’s. The Ancient systems could be very picky about who they interacted with. Bartolan nodded.
“Once I got it back on board, though…” Agosten couldn’t hold back a smile. “One of my juniors was able to open it. Once it was initialized, anyone was able to use it, and this is what we found.” He ran his finger over the top of the box, tracing a pattern Bartolan couldn’t read. A cone of light popped into view, thousands of shapes spiraling up out of the box and into the cone’s center. Agosten touched one, and it rose out of the cone, revealing a shape like a metal flower. Agosten touched it again, unfolding the petals and opening up the central sphere to reveal ghostly wiring, and Bartolan whistled.
“Is that what it looks like?”
“We think it’s either a dictionary or some other reference manual, or an inventory, or possibly some sort of handbook. But you can see what we’ve got here.”
“I can indeed.” Detailed images of hundreds of Ancient devices, most of them with interior schematics: the Science Services would go mad over it. “And the Teosians have no idea?”
Agosten shook his head. “None. To them, it was just another unusable Ancient artifact.”
“Very well done,” Bartolan said. “Very well done indeed.”
“There’s more,” Agosten said. He lowered his voice even though there as no one to overhear. “My contact admitted that this wasn’t found on Teos. I persuaded him to give me the gate address, and I’ve identified the planet as Inhalt.”
“I don’t know it,” Bartolan said.
“It’s not well known.” Agosten’s voice was wry. “We used it as a staging area thirty years ago, when the Wraith were culling hard on Yeres and Hargue, but we never went far from the Stargate. According to our records, the last supply depot was emptied in the last year of Chief Cowen’s regime, and the decision was made then to discontinue resupply. As far as I can tell, none of our people have been back there since.”
“Inhalt,” Bartolan repeated, and reached for the keyboard that rested on his desk. He called up the Genii database that had been installed to supplement the Ancient computer, and typed in the name, frowning as the coordinates appeared. “It’s close to the boundary the Lanteans set with the Wraith. I suspect that’s one reason no one’s been back there.”
“I agree,” Agosten said. “But — sir, my contact said there were Ancient ruins two days’ walk from the Ring. He said they looked as though they had never been touched, or not in some centuries.”
“And why didn’t they come back and search the place properly?”
“That part of the planet is cold desert,” Agosten answered. “They hadn’t planned to go as far as they did, and they didn’t have the supplies to stay for very long. They made a preliminary search, found a handful of artifacts — enough to make them certain there was more — but then they had to return.”
“Surely if it was that good a find, the Teosian government would have taken over, sent their own people.” Bartolan steeped his fingers to keep from betraying his own excitement. A find like that was vanishing rare — the piece Agosten had acquired was priceless for its contents alone. If they could add that to their voyage, either leaving a team to claim the site or exploring it themselves, it would go a long way toward earning them a place in the Hall of Remembrance. He curbed his thoughts sharply. It was too soon to start thinking that way, not with Inhart practically on the Wraith’s doorstep. Still, there was no harm in pursuing this just a little further.
“It was such a good find that the party wanted to keep it to themselves,” Agosten said. “They were trying to raise the funds to go back on their own, so that they could sell their discoveries to the highest bidder. And then the leaders quarreled, and my contact took his share and tried to sell it on his own. He approached me because he knew that we’ve done enough research into the gene that we might be able to open it.”
Bartolan nodded. “And why did he tell you where he’d found this artifact?”
Agosten’s eyes fell, but he straightened his shoulders dutifully. “I… may have applied a bit of physical persuasion, sir.”
Bartolan swallowed a curse. Of all the things that would send Agosten’s contact straight to the Teosian government, being beaten up by a Genii officer had to be close to the top of the list. Teos had long resented the Genii’s dominance, and were always looking for allies against them. “Then we’re too late. Your contact will have gone to his superiors, and they will be on their way to Inhalt as we speak.”
“It may come to that,” Agosten said, “but, sir, I think we have a little time. The group wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place, and they’ll have to argue things out among themselves. If we go now, there’s still an excellent chance that we can get there first, and can secure the ruins.”
“I assume you’ve worked out a course already.”
“Yes, sir.”
“How long will it take us to get there?” Bartolan tapped a finger against the keyboard, considering the options. If they could get there first, if they could stake out the ruins — even if they weren’t particularly defensible, the Teosians were unlikely to defy the Genii, especially with the Pride in orbit. Even if they had to give it back later, they could extract enough useful artifacts to make the attempt worthwhile. The only risk was that the Teosians might get there first, and the Pride could scan from orbit. If the Teosians had gotten there ahead of them, the Pride could simply leave.
“I make it just under thirty hours.”
Bartolan nodded slowly. “All right, First Officer, you’ve convinced me. Set a course for Inhalt, and inform the homeworld that we’re taking a short detour before we return home. You can tell them our destination, but not any details of why.”
“They’re bound to ask,” Agosten said. “We’ll have to tell them something.”
“We don’t want some bright boy from the Science Services to get the idea of dialing Inhalt directly,” Bartolan said. “Especially when there’s a chance the Teosians may get there first. Tell them that we’ve heard a rumor of — something interesting enough to make it worthwhile, but not urgent. Mineral deposits, something like that, and we want to continue checking the Pride’s systems as we go.”
“That should convince them.” Agosten rose to his feet. “Very good, sir, I’ll contact base right away.”
“Do that,” Bartolan said, and the door closed behind the other man. Bartolan leaned back in his chair, drank down the la
st of his now cold tea, and began methodically to prepare a second cup. If they could pull this off — if they could come back not only with a proven Ancient warship, all her systems repaired and fully functional, but with a cache of Ancient artifacts to rival the Lanteans… He curbed his enthusiasm sharply. The device that Agosten had showed him was astonishingly useful, yes, but there was no guarantee that Inhalt held anything else that was half as useful. All they could do was investigate. Even knowing better, it was hard to keep from spinning scenarios that would have made the most hardened treasure hunter blush.
He had finished his second cup of tea, his mind still on the possibilities on Inhalt, and how to handle their approach, when the intercom buzzer sounded. “Captain here.”
The screen lit, and the senior physician’s round face looked out at him. “Captain, it’s Doctor Innyes. I want to report that we have several cases of severe gastro-intestinal distress among the crew members who visited Teos.”
“Several?” Bartolan repeated.
Innyes grimaced. Her hair was fraying out of its usual neat braids, and Bartolan felt the first stirrings of alarm. “Five so far. Another two possible. There will have to be adjustments to the watch schedule.”
“Yes,” Bartolan said, his voice grim. “Do we know what this is about, Doctor? Do we need to institute a quarantine?”
“I don’t believe so,” Innyes answered. “All of the affected parties had leave and attended the Harvest Fair —“
“Most of the crew attended the Harvest Fair,” Bartolan interrupted. He had done so himself, at the insistence of their Teosian hosts.
“Yes, sir, but all of the sick ate at a specific concession — the Middle Sea Fruit Wine Company — and all drank quite a bit of the new batch of verli wine.” She glanced down, checking her notes. “Verli has been known to cause gastric distress among offworlders, and the new wine may not have aged long enough to remove the compounds that cause the problem. My expectation is that they should recover in twenty-four hours, but we’ll be short-handed until then.”
“Idiots,” Bartolan said, not quite under his breath, and Innyes gave a tired smile.
“Most of them are boys, Captain, and they haven’t been off-world on a mission like this. We told them to be friendly, of course they were going to enjoy themselves.”
“I didn’t want them to be that friendly,” Bartolan said. He felt a surge of relief: he had spent all his time with the Teosian authorities; he had eaten a great deal at the several ceremonial meals, but he had drunk no wine at all. “Very well, doctor, let the watch officers know the situation, and keep me informed.”
“Yes, captain.” Innyes touched a button, and the screen went blank.
And that was all he needed, Bartolan thought. They couldn’t afford to be short-handed once they reached Inhalt. But at least the doctor thought the afflicted would be recovered by then, and they could do extra duty as penance. “Idiots,” he said again, and reached for his tea.
~#~
The Foundation Day ceremony had been more moving than John had expected — more honest, that was the only word he could think of, and that was so unlike the Genii that he was shaken. Teyla always said that they were subtle, that they always had three and four motives for everything they did, but this, at least, had seemed entirely straightforward. What was it the Pride’s new captain had said? That they would stand against their enemies as their ancestors had done, and pledged to die before they betrayed that heritage. Effective propaganda, the skeptical part of his mind pointed out, but he couldn’t forget the rapt look on the faces of the young men of the honor guard. They believed, they loved their world and were willing to die for it — were willing to do whatever was necessary to protect it. The look on Radim’s face hadn’t been very different.
Of course, this was what Teyla had been trying to tell him all along. Fear of the Wraith had shaped every human society in the Pegasus Galaxy in ways he was only just beginning to understand. The Genii had been willing to live in dangerous underground burrows, their scientists risking radiation poisoning and who knew what other disasters, to develop a weapon that would destroy the Wraith; the ones who could not help with that development had lived on the surface, masquerading as simple farmers, acting as bait and a distraction for any Wraith who came to cull, all to move the Genii project forward. The Atlantis Expedition’s arrival must have upset the delicate balance between long term plans and immediate survival. If they hadn’t wakened the Wraith — but they had, John told himself firmly. That was an old regret he couldn’t afford to indulge. They had wakened the Wraith, yes, but they’d also brought Atlantis, her systems revived to stand against her old enemies, and if the Expedition had underestimated the Wraith at the beginning, they’d also demonstrated that it was possible to fight the Wraith and live.
“Very impressive,” Beckett said in his ear, as they were herded off the stage and through a long series of corridors that led away from the Hall’s entrance.
“Yeah.”
“It’s too bad some of the social scientists couldn’t be here,” Beckett went on. “I imagine it would help them understand what we’re up against in the Genii.”
“Yeah,” John said again. They had brought a military group because the Genii respected military force: it was too late to change that. The group stopped as they reached a well-lit room stocked with chairs and benches, and their Genii escorts made it clear that they were to wait here. He glanced around warily, counting the entrances — three, counting the one they’d come in — and wished again that they could have attended fully armed. He and Lorne both had pistols, and he suspected the Marines had more than one weapon secreted on their persons, but the weight of a P90 at his chest would have been comforting. “How was the excursion this morning?”
Beckett gave him a wary glance. “Sad, I would have said. They’re — have you ever been in the old Soviet bloc countries, seen the buildings there? All of them too big and too heavy and too not-human in their scale. That’s what the underground parts remind me of, and then when you get aboveground…” He shook his head. “I can’t think they still expect to fool anyone with those old-fashioned farms of theirs, so I wonder if they haven’t been able to mechanize. They’re still plowing with oxen, still doing all that hard work by hand. And on top of it, they’re all so bloody cheerful, just the way they were when we first met them. I don’t understand it.”
“Maybe they’d rather see daylight now and then.” John stared across the room, trying to figure out if the two Genii holding a low-voiced conversation by the double doors were talking about them.
“Well, I suppose I might,” Beckett conceded. “I’d be interested in talking to their physicians about levels of depression in their underground population. Though they’re safer from the Wraith down here, so maybe that makes a difference.”
Lorne wandered over to join them, trying to look nonchalant. “Colonel. Do you think there’s a problem?”
“I sure as hell hope not.” John looked around again, aware that Radim and his top aides had disappeared. “Pass the word, everybody on the alert —“
“You can’t think the Genii would attack us after that ceremony,” Beckett exclaimed.
“I wouldn’t put anything past them,” Lorne said grimly.
John opened his mouth to agree, but at the same moment, the smaller set of doors opened and Radim emerged, his taller aide trailing like a shadow. The aide looked ever so slightly ruffled, John thought, and his attention sharpened.
“Gentlemen.” Radim gave them a smile that showed no sign of strain. “My apologies for the delay. It seems there was a minor issue with one of the marching contingents.”
“Marching contingents?” John repeated. He had read the schedule, of course, knew that the day’s events were supposed to end with a second parade, but it never hurt to have Radim underestimate him. On the other hand, it didn’t look as though Radim was fooled.
“Yes. But it’s sorted out now. If you’ll come this way, we can take our p
laces in the reviewing stand.” Radim turned toward the double doors, and the officers waiting there swung them open. John caught a glimpse of a sort of balcony carved from the living stone, rows of padded benches, and bright lights beyond, and then there was the unmistakable snap of rifle fire, and the officers slammed the doors shut again. Radim’s mouth tightened. “Or perhaps not. If you’ll excuse me, Colonel?”
He turned away without waiting for an answer. Beckett stared after him. “What was that about?”
“Looks like someone’s trying to kill him,” John said. “Again.”
CHAPTER FOUR
LADON SURVEYED the cleared street, fighting to keep his expression steady despite his near-incandescent rage. At his shoulder, Ambrus spoke quietly into his radio, listened, and spoke again, then lowered the microphone from his lips.
“The full quarter is secured, Chief. The bomber blew himself up — or possibly his bomb was detonated remotely —“
“That’s an important distinction,” Ladon said. “Find out.”
“Yes, Chief.” Ambrus turned away to speak into his mic again. “Colonel Gezan says they’re working on that.”
Ladon nodded.
“The second man, the sniper, has been captured — wounded, but he’s expected to live.”
“Good.” Below them, in the open plaza, the people who had scattered at the first sign of trouble were moving back to their places, and Ladon felt a swell of pride. The Genii, civilian or military, were not going to be intimidated by some random attack. His men had dealt with it; his people trusted him, and were returning to their places confident that they would be safe. And that was a promise he intended to keep. He looked at Ambrus. “What else does Security say?”
“It looks like the bomber was intended as a distraction, to draw our security away from the main event. They’re tracing how the sniper got a weapon into the plaza, but no luck yet.” Ambrus listened, his hand cupped over the mic. “We’ve cleared the buildings overlooking the plaza. Nothing there so far except people who’d rented windows to get a better view. Major Dorthan would like to know if he should let them back in.”
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