SGA 22 Legacy 7 Unascended

by Jo Graham

  “The Wraith think we’re animals. Because otherwise eating us would be too disturbing for them. The advantage of having worshippers rather than prisoners is that you can train them to do useful things, and if they get out of their cage they won’t wreck your house. That’s the angle I’ve got to work with here.”

  “Some of them know we’re not cats.”

  “And some of us know they’re not monsters. But there’s an entire galaxy full of Wraith and humans who don’t think that way. The thing I can do about it is the thing I’m doing.” She shook her head. “Besides, Alabaster really is helping these people.”

  “Not exactly for altruistic reasons.”

  “I won’t say the Wraith don’t get anything out of it. But… ” She turned to look at the end of the room where the more seriously ill and injured pilgrims were resting on their beds. “That little girl’s leg was caught under an overturned cart. Her ankle is basically crushed. I’ve given her all the painkillers I can, but even if I tried putting a cast on her ankle, she’d probably never walk normally again. I could take her back to Atlantis, get our best orthopedic surgeons to piece her leg together like a jigsaw puzzle, and hope we’re in time to preserve a reasonable amount of function in the joint. Or Alabaster could heal her in five minutes.”

  “So they need a doctor here.”

  “They need an entire medical clinic with an electric generator, a stocked pharmacy, and someone to teach surgical techniques. And maybe we can set that up for them eventually. But they don’t have it right now. What they have right now is the Bride. Sure, she’s not here all the time, but are we?”

  She looked over at the elderly man whose wife was still spinning. “That’s Garrel. His son was getting ready to take over his fishing boat for him, only then there was a freak storm last year and his son drowned. If I had him back in Atlantis, I could treat his arthritis with painkillers and steroid injections. But that’s not going to extend his life by a single minute, or make him able to spend all day working on a fishing boat again. What Alabaster’s offering means he can keep working his boat until his grandson’s old enough to take over, so that he can feed his family.”

  She nodded toward a weedy boy in his early teens sitting eating stew. At his side, a middle-aged woman was knitting, her wooden needles flashing as something indeterminate and wooly took shape on her lap. “That’s the boy and his mother.”

  “So which of them… ” Rodney couldn’t quite finish the sentence.

  “The mother,” Jennifer said. “I’m trying to keep the trials of the retrovirus limited to adults, even if people here don’t entirely understand why I don’t consider a thirteen-year-old boy to be a grown man capable of giving informed consent. I’m doing the best I can, here, Rodney. And how hard that makes it to sleep at night is not the important thing right now.” Jennifer took a deliberate breath. “So. How is everyone in Atlantis?”

  “Fine. You know, the same as usual. I’m sure Carson wishes you were there to help, but he’s managing.”

  “Carson has a lot more patience for being Atlantis’s chief medical officer than I ever did,” Jennifer said. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

  “He is. Fine. We’re all fine.”

  “That’s good,” Jennifer said. She looked like she was running out of things to say, or at least things that she felt like it was a good idea to say. “How’s Newton?”

  “He’s fine, too,” Rodney said. “But he misses you.”

  “I’m sure Newton will be okay.”

  Rodney took a deep breath. “Of course he will.”

  “McKay!” John called from across the room. “Ember’s outside. Let’s go find Ronon.”

  Jennifer shook her head. “That should be a fun ride home,” she said dryly.

  “Tell me about it,” Rodney said.

  The ride home was tense, but nothing compared to Woolsey’s expression when he met them in the jumper bay.

  “Would anyone care to explain?” he asked.

  Everyone shrugged and looked at John, who squared his shoulders.

  “Alabaster’s condition for providing us with information was having one of her people accompany us as an observer.”

  “I see.” Woolsey looked as if he were counting to ten, and then tapped his radio on. “Colonel Lorne, please meet me in the gate room with a security team, to escort our Wraith guest to his quarters.”

  “A security team will not be necessary,” Teyla said.

  “Yes, it will,” Ronon said.

  “Colonel Sheppard, I’d like to see you and your team in my office,” Woolsey said, and left them standing around the jumper looking like children who’d been called to the principal’s office.

  “I’ll just go and… ” Daniel began.

  “He means you, too,” John said.

  *Trouble?* Ember asked silently. He might have meant the question only for Teyla, but Rodney could hear him, too.

  *No,* Teyla reassured, at the same time that Rodney said, *Maybe.*

  Teyla gave Rodney a quelling look, and then spoke aloud. “We’ll talk after we have had a chance to debrief.”

  “Of course,” Ember said aloud. *At least you are not throwing me in a cell.*

  *We would not do that to our guests,* Teyla said.

  *Probably,* Rodney said. It was uncomfortably easy to slip back into using Wraith telepathy, and to think of their guest not as “Ember” but as the flavor of banked-fire caution for which any spoken word was an inadequate approximation. He couldn’t help wondering if the Wraith still thought of him as the racing, skittering brilliance that had been “Quicksilver.”

  Ember looked at him with yellow eyes as if he meant to answer, but Rodney deliberately closed his mind; he really didn’t want to know.

  “Come on, McKay,” John said, giving him a push in the direction of the stairs. “Let’s go get yelled at.”

  Woolsey steepled his fingers and looked at them sternly from across his desk. “I would like to know just how you suggest I inform the IOA that we are planning to share Asgard technology with the Wraith.”

  “Well, that’s really a byproduct of the fact that we’re cooperating with the Wraith to find Asgard settlement sites,” Daniel said. This was an old game, and one that he felt he had mastered. “It’s not that we’re planning to share the technology, it’s just that if we happen to find any technology and we have one of the Wraith with us, of course they’ll find out as much as we do about it. Initially. But there’s no need to share any further conclusions we come to as we study… whatever it is we find.”

  “I see no need for that either,” Teyla said.

  “But we are still cooperating with the Wraith,” Woolsey pointed out. “For a project that, whatever its scientific value, was initially supposed to be an archaeological study of Ancient settlement, and was not supposed to include bringing one of the Wraith to Atlantis.”

  “It’s like you don’t want us to do this,” John said.

  “Right, but the opportunity to cooperate with the Wraith to find Asgard technology

  —

  which we’ve all agreed could be of considerable value to Earth

  —

  is really just a byproduct of the strategic reason for bringing one of the Wraith to Atlantis,” Daniel said quickly.

  “And what would that be?”

  “An exchange of hostages. Not that anyone is putting it that way, but they have Dr. Keller aboard one of their ships. We’re in a better position to feel confident that she’s going to remain unharmed if we have one of their people assisting us in Atlantis.”

  Woolsey considered him for a long moment. “I always used to hate it when you did this,” he said.

  Daniel shrugged a little. “I know that.”

  “All right,” Woolsey said finally. “Find out what Ember knows about the Asgard. If you identify a promising site, we will send him along with our team to investigate.”

  “We should show him the climate control device,” Rodney said.

 
“You mean the weather machine,” John said.

  “We don’t know that it’s a weather machine, but, yes.”

  “I thought you said it was a weather machine.”

  “I said that our best hypothesis based on our preliminary examination of one piece of broken machinery

  —”

  “Gentlemen,” Woolsey broke in. “It’s extremely hard for me to justify sharing the one discovery of Asgard technology that we have made entirely on our own with the Wraith.”

  “You need their help to figure it out?” Ronon asked.

  “No, I do not need their help to figure it out,” Rodney said indignantly. “I was merely interested in comparing notes with someone who’s worked with similar technology in the past. That doesn’t mean that I’m dependent on someone else’s analysis

  —”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Woolsey said. “Because for now, I’m going to have to say no. Please confine yourselves to finding out what the Wraith know about additional settlement sites.”

  “Without actually telling Ember what we’re looking for,” Daniel said.

  “I’m sure you can manage that.”

  Woolsey watched Sheppard’s team, plus Dr. Jackson, troop out of his office. Sheppard lagged behind.

  “Yes?” Woolsey asked as the door closed.

  “I was just wondering,” Sheppard said. Worrying, more likely from the expression on his face.

  “Wondering what?”

  Sheppard sat back down in the visitor chair, leaning back as though he were getting comfortable for a long stay. “There seems to be some tension between you and Jackson. I was wondering why.”

  Woolsey took a deep breath. “That’s a long story.” And not one he really wanted to tell, actually. He wasn’t proud of his part in it, not anymore. “Let’s just say that I had some problems with SG-1 when I worked for the IOA. I don’t expect Dr. Jackson has forgotten.”

  “I wouldn’t forget if somebody authorized my execution either,” Sheppard said mildly. “That’s not how we deal with compromised personnel around here. I’m just having a little trouble squaring that story with how things went down when we got Rodney back.”

  Woolsey felt his face heat. Of course Sheppard had heard all about it from Carter. Of course. He and Carter were tight, part of the same military fraternity that he was forever excluded from. “The situation was different,” he said tightly.

  Sheppard crossed his legs, leaning back to see the gateroom floor. The Stargate was dialing, the regularly scheduled communications dump from the SGC most likely, since nobody had called him and clearly an access code had been received. “I’m just wondering what the situation will be if we find Elizabeth. As much of a long shot as that may be.”

  “Obviously given what happened with McKay…”

  “I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be careful,” Sheppard said. “Hell, given the mess we had with McKay, we’ve got to be. But I want to know what the parameters are.”

  “You mean you want to be sure that if we find someone claiming to be Dr. Weir we won’t just shoot her,” Woolsey said.

  “That,” Sheppard said.

  Woolsey steepled his hands, giving himself time to think. “You think we will find her. After how many years?”

  “Jackson was gone a year before SG-1 found him,” Sheppard said. “If Elizabeth has ascended, and if the so-called rules are what Jackson says, yes, I think she’s out there.” His eyes met Woolsey’s, clear and absolutely frank. “And if she’s out there, we’ll find her.”

  Woolsey took a deep breath. “Then I suppose I’d better start laying the ground work,” he said. “We’ll need an Alpha Site quarantine. There’s no way we can bring her straight back to Atlantis until we’ve completely ruled out any Replicator involvement. Understood?”

  “Understood.” Sheppard got to his feet. “Then I’ll get Lorne on that. Just in case. He can make that a priority before his next scheduled mission.”

  “Very good,” Woolsey said. He watched Sheppard leave. Two solid years of working together, and he still had no idea what made the man tick.

  His laptop chimed softly, letting him know that the email download from the SGC had arrived. One was marked highest priority. He opened that one first and read it with an increasing sense of dread. Then he opened the intercom and called Sheppard back from where he’d been standing in the control room, leaning over Zelenka’s shoulder to look at something on his screen. “Colonel Sheppard, can you come back in here a moment?”

  Sheppard stuck his head back in. “What’s up?”

  “Come in and close the door,” Woolsey said grimly. He waited until Sheppard had done so and stood with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been ordered to report to the SGC tomorrow morning, their time. I’m supposed to leave things ‘in good order’ with you in charge.”

  “Not again,” Sheppard said.

  “I’m afraid so.” Woolsey looked away from him, a not entirely unexpected sorrow rising in his chest. “I told you this business with McKay might cost me my job. It looks like it has.” He looked up. “I’m not sure I’m coming back this time.”

  “When they tell you to bring your stuff…”

  “Exactly.” Woolsey made himself smile, though he suspected it was more of a grimace. “No mention of a review. Just a recall. That means there’s no hearing and no defense. The IOA has made their decision.”

  “I’m sorry,” Sheppard said, and he sounded like he meant it. “I’m really sorry to see you go.”

  “Well. It’s one of those things.” Woolsey tried to sound firm and dispassionate, though he didn’t at all. “I knew this might happen when we played fast and loose with the Wraith. But that was a risk I was willing to take.” He was afraid he was going to say entirely the wrong thing if this conversation continued, something completely unprofessional. “Just wanted to let you know,” he said, and stood up. “I’m going to go do some packing now.” He pushed past Sheppard and made it into the transport chamber before his expression changed.

  Lorne assembled his team in the jumper bay. Sgt. Anthony and PFC Harper were both relatively new to Atlantis, part of the Marine contingent assigned to replace people who’d been transferred out while they were on Earth. They’d spent most of their stay in the Pegasus galaxy so far getting oriented and then immediately facing a Wraith invasion of the city. Pretty much par for the course as far as newcomer orientation went.

  The two other Marine privates were even greener, having come out with the latest shipment of supplies on Daedalus a couple of weeks ago. They looked like they could barely resist bouncing up and down on their heels at the prospect of actually getting out of the city to explore another world.

  “All right,” he said. “You’ve all read the initial survey team’s report on M47-533. They say it’s suitable for use as an alpha site. I want you to go out there and find out whether that’s still true. We all know that there are a million things that a three-hour survey of an entire planet can miss. Let’s spend a little more time checking this place out before we set up a lot of tents and equipment there.”

  “Yes, sir,” Anthony said. “How big a base are we talking about? Do we need to be able to evacuate the entire Atlantis expedition there?”

  “Not this time. Figure we need room for maybe a dozen people, but they may have to be there for some time. So think about the logistics of that: they’ll need food, water, and shelter. As well as not to be eaten by carnivorous beasts, fried by weird radiation, or phased into another plane of existence by glowy rocks. Got it?”

  “No glowy rocks,” Anthony said. “Yes, sir.” He looked like he thought Lorne was joking. Lorne wished he were.

  “As you can see from the survey team’s report, they found some evidence of previous human activity near the Stargate. Who can tell me what that’s likely to look like, based on their report?”

  “Some rocks with carvings on them, sir,” Harper said promptly.

  “That’s right,” Lorne said. The rest of th
e team looked relieved. It made him wonder if they’d read the report at all. It was, to be fair, five pages of incredibly dry briefing materials, but the scientists had an alarming way of burying important warnings in the middle of snooze-inducing paragraphs. “So don’t put the alpha site down on top of them, or the archaeologists will come yell at us. It doesn’t matter if even they think they’re boring rocks. They’ll still come yell at us, or, more to the point, at me. Which I will not like. Understood?”

  “Don’t touch glowy rocks,” Anthony said. “Don’t touch rocks with carvings on them. Got it, sir.”

  “Then go do it,” Lorne said. “And don’t be a wiseass.”

  “Understood, sir,” Anthony said.

  “So let’s talk about Asgard settlement sites,” Daniel said. He had volunteered his temporary office as meeting space, and Rodney and Ember were both frowning at a star map display on the screen set into one wall.

  He would rather have been talking about the Wraith, he had to admit. They knew so little about the Wraith and their language and social structure, and now he had an opportunity to answer some of the questions no one had apparently even thought to ask. Probably because they were too busy trying not to be turned into breakfast.

  But this was the lead he had, and he needed to follow it. Because it would fill in a valuable piece of the story of the exploration of the Pegasus galaxy, and because it might lead them to useful technology. Which ended up driving their exploration every time, no matter how strong a case he made for pure research.

  Maybe he should have stuck to looking for evidence of Ancient settlements. It was just hard to ignore the possibility of uncovering an entirely new part of the story. And that was how he’d ended up going down a dozen different avenues in the last few years, the history of the Goa’uld and the Asgard and the Ancients, finding a hundred starting points for a lifetime’s worth of work. If only he had a hundred lifetimes.

  Ember’s hands moved over the computer console, highlighting a series of worlds and displaying their gate addresses.