by Jo Graham
“No, I knew a man once…” She stopped.
“A man who…” he prompted.
“It’s gone.” Elizabeth got to her feet, rubbing her hands on her shoulders impatiently. “A man who was healed, I think. But I don’t remember. I don’t remember what it was I was going to say.”
“Then perhaps you were a worshipper,” he said. “Or lived for a time on a hive. That does happen.”
“To be a prisoner of the Wraith?”
“More like a pet.” Dekaas shook his head, though he was smiling. “I learned much from my time among the Wraith, and medicine not the least of it.”
Elizabeth nodded slowly.
“And if that doesn’t disturb you, I suspect that means something,” Dekaas said.
“There are many different peoples, and they have different experiences,” Elizabeth said. “Even when they’ve encountered the same cultures. There’s more than one story. One nation’s heroes are another’s devils.” She took a deep breath. “Maybe I was aboard a hive. I suppose that’s possible. Will you tell me what that’s like?”
Dekaas sat down heavily. “As different as there are different hives. We tend to think of the Wraith as all one thing, but there are nine lineages and constantly shifting alliances between hives. Each lineage has its own customs and culture, and those have mingled over the years. My experience may be nothing like yours.”
“You learned medicine.”
“For more than thirty years I was the assistant of a hive’s Master of Sciences Biological, something between a pet and a junior scientist as the years went.” Dekaas shook his head. “A doctor, I suppose you’d call him. Or a research biologist. He dug deep into genetics, into biotechnology, right to the edge of the forbidden. It was a hive with a queen who stretched the limits of the possible, a hive that had won renown fighting the Asurans long ago.” He glanced at her. “You know the Asurans?”
Elizabeth shook her head, fighting a sudden cold dread that gnawed inside. “No,” she said quickly.
“I learned many things from him, and he kept me young. Thirty years passed, and I was still a young man.” Dekaas glanced down at his hands, old and wrinkled now. “But it’s been twenty years since then, since I was cast adrift.”
“What happened?”
He shrugged. “What always does. War. The hive was badly damaged, the Queen dead, and the young queen sent away at the last moment for her safety. The Hivemaster was dead, the ship losing atmosphere. The Master of Sciences Physical was bonding with the ship, trying to keep it alive until we could evacuate. The Consort was with the last Darts, trying to keep a corridor open for the young queen’s escape. The Master of Sciences Biological shoved me and two others into an escape pod and launched us toward a planet with a Stargate. That was the last I saw of him.” Dekaas looked away, swallowing. “If your house was on fire, wouldn’t you let the dog out?” he asked softly.
Elizabeth said nothing, and in a moment he resumed. “After a bit we saw the explosion in the sky and we knew the hive was no more. They all died, unless some of the Darts were retrieved by our enemies. I wouldn’t like to imagine their fate if that happened.” He fell silent.
“And then?” Elizabeth asked at last.
“We dialed a gate address one of the others knew,” he said simply. “And I became a wanderer. The Travelers need my skills, and they don’t ask too many questions about where I got them.” He gathered himself up, smiling with effort. “There are many wanderers in the galaxy. It’s not remarkable. So it’s very possible you had a similar experience.”
“I wish I knew,” Elizabeth said. His story touched her, but only in the way a story of hardship does. It wakened nothing buried.
“You’re welcome to stay here for a bit,” Dekaas said. “I could use an assistant. You could see if anything comes back to you.”
“I was hoping to find my way to Sateda,” Elizabeth said. “Others have guessed I might be Satedan.”
“As you like,” he said. “We’re trading on Dhalo next. There’s a Stargate there. If you come to Dhalo with us, you can dial out to Sateda or wherever you want when we get there.”
“That sounds fair,” Elizabeth said. “And of course I’ll pay for my passage by helping you if I’m able.”
“I can always use a pair of agile hands,” Dekaas said. “Then let’s call it a deal.”
SGA-22 Unascended
CHAPTER FIVE
When John returned with the jumper, he hoped they could make a swift retreat, but Rodney insisted they manhandle part of the climate control device into the jumper. “They” ended up being John and Ronon, wrestling a refrigerator-sized hunk of metal up the stairs while Rodney snapped instructions and Ronon threatened to drop it on Rodney’s foot on purpose. It barely fit up the stairs and then barely fit through the door of the jumper, and the jumper protested its weight when they launched, but at least they were finally on their way.
“And then we’re going to go back for the rest of it, right?” Rodney said, bracing himself in the limited room left in the cargo compartment with a proprietary hand on his piece of Asgard equipment. Taking it apart was probably his idea of fun. Returning to get the rest of the pieces so that Rodney could take it apart did not sound like John’s idea of fun.
“Or something,” John said. Ferrying pieces of machinery back and forth sounded like a prime job for someone else.
He ended off passing the job on to Lorne, who didn’t look thrilled but duly promised to round up a team to go disassemble the thing. “You’re sure this thing is safe?” he asked on his way out.
“McKay says don’t press any buttons.”
“We know not to press buttons,” Lorne said, not sounding comforted.
John shrugged. “As safe as anything else. Watch out for the big ostrich guys with spears and nets. They seemed to think we’d be good with ketchup.”
“Will do,” Lorne said resignedly.
Woolsey regarded the team across the conference table the next morning, cradling the cup of coffee that was all that made dealing with enthusiastic scientists bearable before noon.
“We need to look for another Asgard installation,” Rodney said.
“You have a weather machine to play with,” John said.
“Climate control device. Or… actually, it might be something that could very roughly be described as a ‘weather machine,’ but it’s hard to tell when we’re missing anything like a set of instructions.”
“I thought it said ‘don’t press any buttons.’”
Rodney rolled his eyes at him. “Useful instructions. Or would you prefer that I start experimenting by pressing the buttons that say ‘don’t adjust settings if you don’t know what you’re doing?’”
“Not on the planet where we currently reside, please,” Woolsey said.
“Well, right now it’s a moot point, because when we tried to power it up—”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to experiment.”
“We were going to provide just enough power to get some information about its current settings,” Rodney said. “Believe me, despite the attractions of doing something about this planet’s wretched weather, we aren’t that stupid. My point is, when we powered it up, it burnt out half its systems. Maybe our equipment wasn’t compatible, maybe the thing was just old, I don’t know, but there’s no way to fix it without rebuilding large parts of it. Which is hard to do when we don’t know how it works.”
“You made us haul that thing home,” Ronon said.
“It’s still useful,” Rodney said. “Just not incredibly useful when all we have is one broken device. I think we should try to find another one.”
“I actually agree with Dr. McKay,” Daniel said, with an expression that made it clear he felt that was a possible sign of the apocalypse. “This is the first early Asgard settlement site – or maybe it’s better described as an observation post – that we’ve seen in the Pegasus Galaxy. Even though it’s not nearly as early as the Ancient sites we were origina
lly looking for, I’m tempted to see if we can find out anything else about what the Pegasus Asgard were up to at this point. I realize it may not have immediate practical applications
—”
“I agree with you both,” Woolsey said.
Rodney looked up in startlement as if he’d been busy preparing his next argument. “You do?”
He put down his coffee cup reluctantly. “How likely is it that the device you found is capable of having more than an extremely localized effect on climate conditions?”
Daniel and Rodney exchanged glances. “Reasonably likely,” Rodney said after a moment. “We know that after the Wraith pushed the Pegasus Asgard back to a single planet, they dealt with some fairly horrible atmospheric conditions. And, no, they couldn’t fix it, but whatever equipment they came up with while they were trying could have been based on devices like this. We’ve examined its power supply, and if it’s designed to do something on a local level, it’s sure not to heat somebody’s house.”
“We also know that the Asgard have some ability to intervene to prevent natural disasters,” Daniel said. “Mainly from situations where they told us that they wouldn’t help, but they did strongly imply that they could have.”
“Nice guys,” Ronon said.
Daniel shrugged. “They had a treaty with the Goa’uld that allowed them to interfere to help other species in certain situations but not other ones. It was a complicated situation. Maybe a little like the one we’ve ended up in with the Wraith.”
Teyla and Ronon both looked uncomfortable at that. Woolsey was aware that the treaty was still a point of contention between them. Teyla was far more optimistic about its consequences than Ronon was, and while Woolsey agreed with her on the whole, he could also see why Ronon was skeptical. Ronon’s personal experiences with the Wraith aside, their own previous attempts to work with the Wraith had produced decidedly mixed results.
“Moving on,” John said firmly. “Is this really a priority to follow up?”
“Colonel Sheppard, as you may be aware, living in Atlantis can lead to developing a somewhat skewed view of essential priorities,” Woolsey said. “From the point of view of the Atlantis expedition, power sources, weapons, and devices that will improve interstellar travel are fundamental needs. But in terms of solving problems for people back on Earth, a functioning device that would allow us to control weather and climate patterns would be even more important.”
“And dangerous,” Rodney said. “I have to point out that trying anything like that on Earth would also be extremely dangerous.”
John looked at him sideways. “You were the one who wanted to play with it.”
“I want to bring it back here to study, but let’s have realistic expectations.”
“Noted, Dr. McKay,” Woolsey said. “But in the realm of realistic expectations, I am fairly confident that the IOA will consider even a possible solution to Earth’s climate problems to be a significant find. And in my position it pays to produce at least occasional results that they actually like.”
“Understood,” Sheppard said.
“I’m glad to hear it. So, you have my official permission to look for more Asgard technology. Where do you propose to find it?”
Daniel and Rodney exchanged glances again, this time as if each of them were hoping the other had a brilliant solution already prepared. “I want to go through the records of previous offworld exploration by the Atlantis expedition to see if there’s any evidence that might point us in the direction of Asgard sites,” Daniel said.
“I think we would have noticed if there were Asgard bases on the planets we’ve been to,” Rodney said.
“Some have only been briefly explored,” Teyla said.
“Usually for good reason,” John pointed out.
She smiled and nodded a little, granting the point. “Even so, Dr. Jackson might discover something we missed. We have mainly been interested in contacting local inhabitants and looking for working Ancient devices, not in searching for extremely old settlement sites that may be buried beneath the ground.”
“I was also thinking we could ask our allies if they’ve seen any artifacts that might possibly be Asgard,” Daniel said. “Anything with their writing on it, or anything using some of the distinctive features of their architectural style. I can put together a simple briefing on what to look for.”
“Please do, Dr. Jackson,” Woolsey said. “We’re only in irregular contact with the Travelers and the allied Wraith faction, but we can certainly bring the subject up with the Athosians, the Satedans, and the Genii.”
“You might also ask them if they’ve seen Elizabeth,” Rodney said, without looking up from his coffee, as if that were a perfectly reasonable thing to say.
It was very quiet at the conference table for a moment. “We’ll check in with our allies,” Woolsey said finally. “Let’s revisit the Asgard question once we hear what they have to say.”
John fell in next to Teyla leaving the staff meeting and she looked at him sideways. His brow was furrowed, and there was tension to his walk. “Is something bothering you?” she asked.
“No. Yes.” He stopped, waiting for others to pass them in the hall and continue out of earshot. He was looking at the wall somewhere over her head, but at least he answered. “I wish Rodney would get off this thing about finding Elizabeth.”
“You think it is a delusion?”
John nodded. “I think Rodney really wants it to be true. And I get why. He went through some really traumatic stuff. But he’s got to pull it together.”
“I too dreamed of Elizabeth,” Teyla said. “And I believe she meant to help us. That much is real.”
He did look at her then. “You think she’s out there too?”
Teyla shook her head sadly. “No. I do not think the dead return to us that way. A guardian spirit, yes. But a physical person? I do not think so.”
“Maybe I should send Rodney to talk to Dr. Robinson,” John said. “Even if she can’t help, at least that way we’ll have dotted our I’s and crossed our T’s as far as the SGC is concerned. Weird beliefs about the afterlife don’t actually get you canned. But going on and on about it in staff meetings is one of those things.”
“Perhaps Dr. Robinson can help,” Teyla said. “I have great faith in her.”
SGA-22 Unascended
INTERLUDE
Dekaas, Elizabeth learned, more or less kept office hours in Durant’s infirmary during the first watch, though apparently people felt no compunction about waking him up any other time that they needed him. He had his own cabin, but he gave Elizabeth use of a curtained alcove off the main infirmary. There was a cot there which looked much more comfortable than the bunk Elizabeth had used before. For one thing, it had a clean, neatly folded comforter and a pillow.
“Maybe you can triage actual emergencies from people with headaches,” he said with a smile, “and keep me from being fetched during the third watch unless I’m really needed.”
“Absolutely,” Elizabeth said. She was fairly certain she could tell the difference between an emergency and a headache. “I’ve done this before, sleeping in the aid center to wake the doctor if there’s trouble.”
“Oh?” Dekaas’ voice was studiously casual. “When?”
Elizabeth started, suddenly aware of what she’d said.
“Don’t force it,” Dekaas said gently, his eyes on hers. “Don’t try to know what it means. Just say whatever comes to mind.”
“When I was much younger. A place, a tent…” She could see it for a moment, the inside of a large white tent, flap rolled up to show a track turned to mud by the spring rains, gray clouds and a cool day, the bright green of new growth on the mountains…. “There was a doctor.” A man who reminded her of Dekaas, though his accent was different. “A white tent, with a red cross on the roof in case of helicopter strikes.”
“Helicopter strikes?” Dekaas prompted quietly.
“They had helicopters. They’d already violated the Gorazd
e Safe Area, but we thought that they wouldn’t deliberately hit a Red Cross site.”
“Were you a doctor?” he asked in that same, even tone.
“No.” Elizabeth was sure of that. “A logistician. To coordinate the food and the refugees. MSF had a full mission on the ground.” She said the words even as she wondered what they meant. “There were so many refugees. So many.”
She’d never even imagined before what that could mean, children with shrapnel in their bodies, old people walking in the late winter chill with everything they owned on their backs, women clutching their clothes around them and never looking back. Misery upon misery upon misery, until it began to kindle a slow anger in her. She had never understood the desire before, but now she did. Now she understood what she would do with a gun in her hand.
“Rotors,” she said. A fear that dropped in her stomach. “The sound of rotors.” Pausing at her work, eyes on the ceiling of the tent, looking back down only to realize the girl she’d been talking to, the girl who couldn’t have been more than thirteen, had already dived under the metal table. “And then a roar.”
“And then?”
“I ran to the door,” Elizabeth said. A roar of thunder, a pair of F-16s diving in low, the helicopter gunship aborting its run as the jet wash hit it, the fighters passing one to each side rolling up and away, so low and close that every tent, every bit of loose fabric flapped in their wake. The helicopter pulled up as the F-16s came around again, maintaining a firing lock on the helicopter but not firing, just maintaining lock as it ran flat out. “They were enforcing the no-fly zone,” Elizabeth said. “A pair of F-16s from Aviano. I wanted them to fire. I wanted them to fire so badly. Even knowing it was wrong.” They hadn’t. They dogged the copter, dropping on its tail and then away, until all three were out of sight.
“Darts?” Dekaas asked softly.
“Not Darts. These were human. These were my people. And I’d never until that moment known what that meant. I’d never known that kind of pride. That kind of gratitude.” Elizabeth looked for the words. “I wasn’t raised rah-rah the flag. We were suspicious of that. It seemed disturbing, frightening, even Fascist. We didn’t get teary-eyed about ‘our heroes’. That was for people who supported Vietnam. For people who wanted intervention. I’d said we should disband the military. But that moment, that moment in Bosnia, I realized what it was for. Because in a minute, in a few seconds, that helicopter would have opened up just like one had a few days earlier at another site, and I’d have been dead and so would the girl and the doctor and a whole bunch of refugees who had already lost everything they had. And they never fired a single shot. Nobody did.”
