STARGATE ATLANTIS: Allegiance(Book three in the Legacy series)

by Scott, Melissa

  “I wonder — “

  “The current theory is that it’s the shape of the room,” Eva said. “In fact, there’s a pool running, if you’re interested.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” William said. “What’s your position, Doctor?”

  “My dollar is on ‘otherwise unspecified weird Ancient thing’,” Eva answered. “OUWAT, with an emphasis on the ‘oooh’. Actually, I bet that in all the pools.”

  “Not much of a gambler, then,” William said.

  “I prefer as close to a sure thing as I can get.” Eva took a sip of her tea, her eyes traveling to something over William’s shoulder. “Oh, hello, Dr. Zelenka.”

  “You are not in the right place for sure things,” Radek said. He had a sandwich on his plate, as well as a large mug of coffee.

  “So I’m beginning to see,” Eva said.

  “Do you mind if I join you?” Radek asked, and Eva shook her head. William copied her, though he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t mind. He had been avoiding Zelenka since he arrived on Atlantis, though he’d hoped it hadn’t been obvious. Apparently, though, he’d been less subtle than he’d thought, and he gave the other man what he hoped was a conciliatory smile.

  “It’s been a while.”

  “Since Cambridge, yes,” Radek answered, with a show of teeth that wasn’t entirely a smile.

  Oh, dear, William thought. He hadn’t really thought that Radek would have forgotten the things he said when Radek had gone to work for the US military, but he’d hoped they might at least be ignored. He said, to Eva, “Dr. Zelenka and I were in graduate school together.”

  She made a non-committal noise in answer, and Radek settled himself at the table. “Which is partly why I did not expect to see you here, William. In fact, you are probably the last person I was expecting. I am astonished your father allowed it.”

  Not fair. Especially when Radek knew perfectly well how his father would feel about his going to work for the American government, not to mention working directly for the unspeakable Nicholas Ballard’s equally unsound grandson. William sat up straighter, eyes narrowing, the apology he’d been groping for forgotten. “It is, of course, possible to change one’s mind. About politics as much as anything.”

  “Dr. Lynn did not approve of US policy, as I remember,” Radek said, to Eva. “Nor did he believe that one should aid it in any way.”

  “I still don’t think — ” William began, and Eva lifted her hands.

  “Hold it. I am not going to let you argue through me. I can leave, if you’d like to continue — ”

  “No, no,” William said, and Radek gave him a look of triumph.

  “Please,” he said. “I am sorry, Eva. These would be what you call unresolved issues?”

  “Which I would be happy to help you resolve,” Eva said, with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “During office hours.”

  “Of course,” Radek said.

  William took a breath. It really had been his fault, and he did owe Radek an apology. It was just hard to find the words. “I really didn’t know you were here,” he said. “I — I would still have come, but I would at least have dropped you an email. Let you know.”

  “It has been a week for awkward meetings,” Radek said, and reached for his sandwich.

  “How is Mrs. Miller doing?” Eva asked. “Is there any word on Dr. McKay?”

  Radek sighed. His hair was thinner, William thought, with what he hoped was dispassionate assessment, and what had been a somewhat disheveled look had become distinct disarray. And he still couldn’t keep his glasses in place…

  “Nothing,” Radek said, softly, and William grimaced at the sorrow in his voice. “We have had nothing but bad news — ”

  He stopped abruptly, his hand going to the receiver he wore in his ear, his face sharpening. “Yes? Yes. Yes, I am on my way — ” He was pushing back his chair before he finished speaking, before William could think to ask what was going on, and was gone. William looked at Eva, knowing his eyes were wide.

  “That didn’t sound good,” she said.

  “No.” William looked over his shoulder, wondering if this was the sort of emergency that needed more caffeine, or the kind that wanted the pistol he’d been issued on arrival. “That didn’t sound good at all.

  “So what have we got?” Lorne said as he came up the last of the stairs from the transport chamber into the back of the control room. An unscheduled offworld activation could be anything, from Radim wanting to chat, to somebody trying to dial a gate address close to theirs and getting a wrong number, but Salawi looked alarmed.

  “Sir, we’re still not getting an IDC.”

  “Any transmission?”

  “I’m not picking up a transmission, but maybe…” She glanced at Taggert, who looked up from her own keyboard nervously.

  “Let me see,” Lorne said. He leaned over her shoulder, checking to see that she had activated the sensors that would pick up a radio transmission, or anything else coming through the gate. “It could be a misdial, or somebody trying out gate addresses.” The screen flickered suddenly. “Or not. What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” Salawi said, in a tone that made it clear she expected him to expect her to know. “I called Dr. Zelenka — ”

  “Yes, what is the trouble?” Zelenka said, breathing hard as he came up the stairs. He’d clearly had a brisk walk from wherever he’d been, or maybe run was more like it. As far as Lorne could tell, he’d been spending as many of his waking hours in close proximity to a computer terminal as possible.

  “Salawi keeps getting this flicker on her monitor, and my computer keeps — look, there it goes again,” Taggert said as her display shifted. Zelenka bent forward to look over her shoulder, and his eyes went wide.

  “Oh, no, no,” he said. “No, that is not good. Here, let me — ” He shooed Taggert out of the way to take her place at the console, and she obligingly slid over to the next workstation. “Look at this,” he said. Lorne looked, although he wasn’t surprised to see lines of incomprehensible code mixed with even more incomprehensible Ancient code. “Now what is this supposed to be doing?”

  “If we don’t know, maybe we should shut it down,” Lorne said.

  “Yes, I am trying. These programs should not be running. What were you doing?”

  “Nothing. The alert went off for an unscheduled offworld activation, I started monitoring for radio transmissions — ”

  “That might do it,” Zelenka said. “Some kind of trigger — ”

  “There wasn’t a transmission,” Salawi said. “Look.”

  “The computer says that there was not,” Zelenka said. “Yes, that is either another sensor malfunction or very bad.”

  “Just what are we dealing with here?” Lorne said.

  “There are programs running in the security subsystems that should not be there. I am trying to shut them down, but they are triggering more subroutines — this could be a serious problem.” Zelenka looked up sharply over his glasses. “I think we are under attack.”

  Lorne was reaching for his radio headset before Zelenka finished talking. “Colonel Sheppard?” With Woolsey out of the city, he didn’t have to worry about whether technically he should have been calling Woolsey first.

  “This is Sheppard. What’s the problem?”

  “We have a situation. You’d better get up to the control room. It seems someone’s activated some programs in our computer system that Dr. Zelenka is having trouble shutting down.”

  “I’m on my way,” Sheppard said, and then before he cut off his radio, “They’ve got problems upstairs.” Lorne didn’t think that last was addressed to him. He refrained from speculating about who it might in fact have been addressed to, on the grounds that refraining from speculating about things like that was part of his job.

  “Oh, not good,” Zelenka said, and followed it in Czech with what sounded like something heartfelt. “We have systems shutting down — internal sensors, power to the weapons chair
— ”

  “Get that thing shut down,” Lorne said.

  “Yes, I am trying — ”

  “What the hell is going on?” Sheppard said, tearing up the stairs into the control room, wearing sweatpants tucked into the tops of his boots and a flannel shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck in at all.

  “This is Rodney’s work,” Zelenka said. “His programs are shutting down our security systems, and I cannot stop it. I am afraid we are going to lose the iris.”

  “Security teams to the gateroom,” Sheppard said into his radio. “Sound a citywide alarm.” Salawi’s hands moved uncertainly over her keyboard, but it was only seconds before the alarm sounded. “Put me on citywide,” Sheppard said, and waited for Salawi’s quick nod before he went on. “This is Colonel Sheppard. Assume that as of now we are facing an attack by unknown hostiles who are trying to get through the Stargate. I want security teams on full alert — ”

  Zelenka breathed a curse in Czech, all the more alarming because his tone was hushed rather than heated. “The iris is shutting down,” he said. “I am trying, but — ”

  “God damn it,” Sheppard said, heading back down the rear stairs and drawing his pistol in one motion. Lorne was already moving in the same direction. Rear stairs instead of main ones, because they weren’t in body armor, and that sweeping marble staircase gave anyone coming through the Stargate a lovely clear shot —

  He could hear the electric crackle of the iris collapsing, see the Stargate rippling blue and unobstructed as he came down the stairs. Below in the gate room, two Marine teams were already in position, leveling weapons on the Stargate. One of the Marines handed a P90 up to Sheppard, who holstered his pistol and cradled the rifle without taking his eyes off the gate.

  The room lit with bolts of stunner fire, spitting through the gate like a lightning storm, and the Marines opened up, the first of the attackers — Wraith, they were definitely Wraith — crumpling under the barrage. There were more coming behind them, though, charging forward over the bodies and leaping to the sides, masked drones heading straight for the Marine teams.

  Their bodies jerked as the bullets hit them, but too many of them staggered without falling and kept on walking. Lorne could feel his blood run cold with the same crawling sense of wrongness it always gave him, watching them take more damage than anyone should be able to and keep moving, heads whipping around inhumanly fast at each new burst of gunfire.

  “We have Wraith inside the city,” Sheppard said over the radio. “All teams — ” The thunder of gunfire drowned out his words. The gate was still open, more and more Wraith stepping through. Lorne caught a glimpse of another security team taking up position at the entrance to the gateroom, but he wasn’t sure how long they could possibly hold.

  “Radek!” Sheppard yelled between bursts of fire. “We need that iris!” Lorne couldn’t hear Zelenka’s answer, but he didn’t think Sheppard liked it.

  Stunner fire crackled against the wall, too close, and Lorne moved out of the way fast, still firing, taking careful aim before each shot. He was very aware that he only had one spare clip on him. It would have been nice for the Wraith to give them a little warning before they invaded. He would have packed differently —

  A series of distant metallic clangs rose over the thunder of weapons fire. Zelenka must have put the city into a full lockdown, shutting all the security doors. Good for keeping the Wraith confined to the area around the gateroom. Not so great for getting more reinforcements.

  Lorne scrambled forward, ducking to the side of the main staircase, using it for what cover it could provide. He leaned out for a moment, just long enough to see that there were male Wraith coming in behind the drones, their faces unmasked, hanging back in tight groups. He was about to duck back under cover when he glanced over at Sheppard and saw his expression, his eyes wide with shock and the muzzle of his weapon lowering a bare few inches.

  “Rodney!” Sheppard called out. “Rodney, damn it — ”

  He was dressed like a Wraith, all in black in a dark coat that swept to his knees, and his hair was stark white, but Lorne still recognized him as soon as he saw him. Rodney was pointing with one clawed hand, snapping some instruction, and then Lorne was distracted by one of the Marines falling almost at his feet. He crouched, grabbing the man’s rifle and swinging it up as one of the drones reached for him, feeding hand outstretched, and then all he could do was fire.

  Radek ducked as another stun bolt crashed against the console behind him, hunching his shoulders as though that could somehow protect him. New lines of code were scrolling past, and on Salawi’s screen alarms glared yellow and red. The shield was down, the chair was offline, power was fluctuating as a program tried to override the jury-rigged controls of the naquadah generators; he’d managed to get the internal sensors back up, but he didn’t know how long he could hold them.

  “Lockdown complete,” Salawi said, her voice a little higher than normal, but amazingly steady under the circumstances. “Except — the transport chambers are still working.”

  “Damn it,” Radek said, and hit keys, calling up another screen. The P90s fired below him in the gateroom, the concussion splitting the air, and he ducked his head further, not daring to look.

  Radek shook his head in dismay and glanced back at the screen. Yes, some of the transport chambers were still working, and he was getting contradictory readings on the lockdown, too, as though maybe some of the doors hadn’t properly sealed themselves…

  He found the screen he wanted, entered the override code he and Sam had devised, and launched a program that he hoped would kill at least some of Rodney’s subroutines. Another bolt crackled against the consoles behind him, and then another, and he repressed the desire to cover his head. In a minute, in less than a minute, he told himself, in seconds only you will dive under the console and be safe, but now there is this program to run, and that one, and power to cut here if you can —

  “Dr. Zelenka!” Salawi slammed against him, knocking him out of his chair, fell on top of him as they tumbled beneath the console. Radek grabbed for his glasses — thank God, intact — and she rolled away. Behind where he had been sitting, the console shimmered with the fading blast of a stunner.

  “Radek!” That was Sheppard, a voice in his ear, and Radek pulled himself upright.

  “Yes.”

  “The shield! Can you get it back?”

  “No. I’m sorry.” He risked a glance at the screen anyway, on his knees peering over the edge of the console like a child playing peek-a-boo. “No.”

  “Damn it — ” Sheppard’s words were cut off in a burst of machine gun fire. “Get your people out of there, we can’t hold them — ”

  “Yes,” Radek said. He was missing something, he knew, but in the chaos he couldn’t see it. He looked around quickly, seeing who was still there, grateful it was the night shift and fewer people on duty. Salawi and Taggert and Mcmillan and Neumeier and Martinez, only there was no sign of Mcmillan, and he thought Martinez had grabbed a P90 as soon as the shooting started —

  He risked a look over the edge of the console, ducked back down again, swearing. The gate room was full of Wraith, the gate shimmering blue, rippling as still more Wraith emerged from it and headed for the stairs. And that meant it was time to go, there was nothing they could do, no weapon they had, that would stop the Wraith. He reached across, tapped Salawi’s shoulder. “We must get out of here. Colonel Sheppard’s orders.”

  She blinked, then nodded, and plucked at Neumeier’s sleeve. “Which way, doctor?”

  Am I in charge? Radek bit back the words, knowing that, in fact, he was, and pointed toward the rear of the control room, toward the transport chamber that was their best hope of safety. “The back doors. Keep low.”

  “That’s supposed to seal,” Neumeier said. “When we’re in lockdown — ”

  “It did not,” Radek said. For which we should be grateful, he added silently. “Go!”

  Neumeier moved, crouching low, scrambling awk
wardly between the rows of consoles. Salawi followed, glancing over her shoulder as she went, face screwed up in determination and fear.

  “Radek!” Sheppard again, shouting, painful in the earpiece. “Radek, pull the ZPM!”

  “What — ” Radek began, then shook himself. “Yes, yes, I will do that.” Of course; if they couldn’t get the shield working again, there was no point in leaving the ZPM in place and vulnerable.

  “Doc!” That was Taggert. She’d gotten a pistol from somewhere, though Radek didn’t remember her carrying one — most of the control room staff didn’t, they relied on the shield and the Marines — and she crouched now in the shelter of the lower console, pistol braced on the nearest board. Martinez was beside her, P90 in hand, slotting a new magazine into place. “Get moving, the Wraith are on the stairs — ”

  A stun bolt knocked her backwards, sprawling bonelessly against the base of the upper consoles.

  “Jesus, Mary — ” Radek started to reach for her, but another stunner blast slammed against the consoles.

  “Go!” Martinez yelled, and fired a long burst.

  Radek obeyed, scrambling without grace between the consoles, breath catching in his chest. He heard the sound of Martinez’s P90, found the door at last and laid his hand on the lock plate, praying it was still open, and to his relief it slid back a few inches. P90s faced him, and he fell back, lifting his hands, but someone grabbed his shirt and pulled him through. Martinez followed a second later, and the door slid shut again, locking solidly into place.

  “Will it hold?” Radek blinked in startlement as he saw that it was Captain Cadman, P90 flat against her body, wearing the dark jumpsuit of the Hammond’s crew rather than an Atlantis uniform. She must have been already in the city when the raid began, perhaps catching up with friends from the days when she was stationed here. Possibly now she regretted it. Radek shrugged in answer to her question.

  “Maybe. It is Rodney who is attacking us, so — ” He shook himself, looked around, counting heads. Salawi, Neumeier, Martinez — and yes, Mcmillan, but Taggert was left behind. He shook that thought away, too, knowing she was dead, fed upon by now, made himself focus on Sheppard’s last order. “We must pull the ZPM, Lieutenant. Rodney knows where it is, what it is. We must pull it first.”