“Never mind that,” Earthborn snapped, “I would see—”
“Never mind?” Stormfire growled, sweeping one arm out as if to knock everything on the bench to the floor. But before he could, his hand was caught by O’Kane.
“Master,” he said. “Take care.”
Stormfire glared at him, teeth bared. But O’Kane didn’t seem frightened. He just returned the glare until Stormfire’s arm relaxed and he snatched his hand out of the man’s grip. “There is too much to mind,” Stormfire muttered under his breath and turned away from the bench.
O’Kane watched him go, and then said, “I can show you the schematics.”
Moving to a console, O’Kane touched the interface. Sam recognized the alien script that spilled across the screen from her own attempt to penetrate the Wraith’s computer system. But, unlike her, O’Kane clearly knew what he was doing.
“James,” she said, moving to stand at his shoulder, “you can read that?”
“Some of it, yes. Enough to be of use, at least.” He touched something and the screen filled with schematics rendered in three dimensions, turning slowly to illustrate all aspects.
“Wow.” Sam sucked in a breath and glanced over at the colonel. “It’s huge, sir.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So I’ve been told.”
Really, that did not warrant the smile that twitched at the corner of her mouth, so she bit down on it and fixed her eyes on the screen. “Does it show the labs where the hybrids are being created?”
“Until I saw it for myself,” Sting said, “I would never have believed such a monstrosity possible.”
“This development,” Earthborn said, “is new. It is likely that these plans predate it.”
Which was unlucky; it meant they’d need to access Atlantis’s computers to track the lab down first. There was no way they could simply search a ship of this size. “What’s that?” Sam said, pointing to a thin line that ran along the edge of the plan. She thought she knew, but hoped she was wrong.
Behind her, she could feel O’Neill come to stand at her shoulder. “Looks like a shield,” he said.
O’Kane nodded. “Yes, Colonel. That’s exactly what it is.”
“Which is why you will need to enter the city in a dart,” Sting said from the other side of the bench. “I will pilot and communicate with the hive.”
It also meant that, to leave with the hybrid, they’d need to get out the same way. Sam looked at the colonel and, from his somber expression, she knew he was thinking the same thing. Sting would get them in, but getting out with the hybrid was going to be a problem.
“You know,” the colonel said, with that lazy charm he occasionally deployed, “I’m a pretty good pilot myself. Think I could fly one of your darts?”
Sting’s eyes narrowed. “That will not be necessary.”
“Yeah, but if it was? I mean—is it like the Ancient gizmos? Do I need Wraith DNA to operate a dart?” He gave a slight shudder—Sam probably only noticed it because she was standing so close. “Would I need to plug myself in, or something?”
After a beat of silence, Sting said, “It would not be as efficient, but it would be possible for a human to pilot a dart. If necessary.” He showed his teeth and added, “Do you foresee it becoming necessary, O’Neill?”
“Always need a Plan B,” the colonel said with an easy smile. “And usually a plan C, D and E.”
Sting didn’t reply to that, just stared at O’Neill. He obviously didn’t trust them and it made Sam squirm because he had good reason. Their deal with Hecate didn’t sit right with her, but what choice did they have? Let Shadow develop an army of hybrids? Besides, they had no reason to trust the Wraith any more than Hecate—less so, perhaps, given their nature. Better the devil you know… And yet it still felt wrong. It just did.
Into the silence, O’Kane said, “Actually, I think there might be some kind of short-range ships on the hive. I’ve been studying the schematic and think I’ve identified docking bays.” He touched the screen. “Here. And also here. It’s possible the ships are still aboard Atlantis; the Wraith wouldn’t be able to fly them and you could use one of them to leave the hive if it wasn’t possible to return to the dart.”
Sam gave the colonel a sharp look. If O’Kane was right, then O’Neill with his Ancient gene should be able fly one of those ships.
He caught her eye and smiled. “Plan B, then.” Turning to Sting, he said, “So I guess we should talk tactics…”
But they knew so little about Ancient technology, about this alien environment they were heading into, that Sam couldn’t help feeling like they were going in blind. She threw a glance at Stormfire, but he was murmuring to himself, engrossed by one of the Ancient devices, and she knew the colonel was right. Bringing him would be impossible.
While the colonel and Sting talked, Sam turned to O’Kane. “Is there any way you can download the schematic so we can take a copy with us? It’ll be pretty difficult to orient ourselves when we arrive.”
He shook his head. “But I have made some sketches in my files,” he said, turning to a shadowed area at the back of the laboratory. “Would you like to see?”
Catching the colonel’s eye—he was half watching her while he discussed infiltration and exfiltration with Sting—he gave a slight nod. Not that she needed his permission in this strange new world, but it was habit and oddly comforting to maintain the illusion of chain of command.
Following O’Kane further into the lab, she let her eyes drift over the myriad devices scattered across the benches. Stormfire had quite the collection. In the furthest corner, James kept his research. A series of bound paper volumes of notes, quaintly old-fashioned even by her standards—positively ancient by his.
“I prefer not to keep my research in the hive’s database,” he explained as he offered her one of the thick books. “In case we ever need to move on at short notice.” For an instant, he met her eyes and then looked away; she knew what he meant. With his research so portable, if he ever wanted to escape he could take it all with him.
“Understandable,” she said, keeping her voice neutral as she began to flip through. It was all very well-ordered, although most of the writing was in a language Sam didn’t understand. “Is this Ancient?”
“Quite old, yes.”
“No—” She smiled. “No, sorry. I mean, is it the language of the Ancestors?”
“Oh! Yes. Most of it is Lantean.” He pointed to a couple of other sketches. “That’s Wraith.”
Sam nodded and continued looking through the book. There were schematics and diagrams meticulously copied out and labeled, but none of it was in English. “This is a Stargate,” she said, looking up from one sketch.
“Astria Porta, yes. There is one in Atlantis.”
And that provoked a whole slew of questions Sam didn’t have time to ask. She kept looking through the book, page after page of detailed drawings and notes. “This is very impressive,” she said, looking up with a smile. “But I—” She stopped, her eye caught by something. It was an odd boxy shaped ship labeled navis temporis. “What’s this?”
O’Kane crooked his head to see. “Ah, yes, that’s one of the short-range ships I was talking about.” He took the book from her hand and flipped forward a couple more pages. “Here,” he said, “this is where they’re kept—directly above the Astria Porta. Given their dimensions, I think they’re designed to descend through this shaft and actually fly through the Astria Porta—the ‘Stargate.’”
“Wow,” Sam said. “They’re little gate-ships.”
“I suppose you could call them that…”
Sam nodded, but her mind was caught on something else and she flipped back to the previous picture. “Navis temporis,” she said. “That’s what the Ancestors called them?”
Scratching a hand through his short hair, O’Kane said, “I don’t think so. That just refers to this one—it means something like ‘ship of time.’”
Sam stared at him. “Ship of time?”
Running her finger over the drawing, Sam tried not to get her hopes up. “Did it say what the project’s objective was?”
“No. Only that it was terminated.”
“Terminated why?”
“That’s all it says on the file.”
In all likelihood, navis temporis didn’t mean what Sam hoped it might. What were the odds of finding an actual time machine just sitting there waiting for them? And yet… “It’s still on Atlantis?”
“There’s no mention of it being destroyed,” O’Kane said. “Unless that’s what ‘terminated’ means.” He pointed to some other words, none of which Sam could read. “It says it was held in the docking bay with the other, um, ’gate-ships.’”
Sam gave a thoughtful hum and looked over to where the colonel and Sting were talking. If anyone could invent time travel technology, it would be the Ancients. But there was no way to know if that’s even what this was or if it had ever worked. It certainly wasn’t enough to warrant changing their plans and so there was no point in taking it to the colonel. Yet. And, anyway, who knew how he’d respond to the idea of going back and fixing things? He seemed pretty wedded to this messed up version of the future.
So Sam filed the possibility away in the back of her mind and handed the book to O’Kane. “You read Lantean?”
“Stormfire has allowed me to study it, yes. But it’s limited to what’s available on documents such as these.” He frowned down at his book. “I hadn’t considered that someone other than I would need to interpret these notes.”
“It’s okay,” she said, although really it wasn’t. They needed more than just blind luck if they were going to find the hybrids and— “Wait.” She turned back to the colonel. “Sir?”
O’Neill looked over. “Carter?”
“Colonel, what if we bring James with us?” She put a hand on his shoulder. “If you’re willing, that is?”
His eyes widened and fixed on Earthborn as he said, “Of course. If my service is required.”
“Sir, we’ll need to access Atlantis’s computer systems to locate the hybrid lab. And James can read Lantean—that could really come in handy.”
But the misgiving on the colonel’s face was obvious: James O’Kane was an unknown quantity and therefore the last person the colonel wanted with them on a covert mission. “Carter, you can figure out—”
“Yes sir.” She cut him off before he went too far down the ‘Carter can do anything’ route. “Given time, I could probably figure it out. But we won’t have that kind of time. And if James is already familiar with the language and the technology we’ll be dealing with, then why reinvent the wheel?”
The colonel’s lips tightened. She could see him turning the idea over in his head, looking at all the angles. “Sting, what do you think?”
Sting was silent, but from the way he was watching Earthborn it was clear that they were having a private discussion. After a moment, he looked away and said, “It is testament to the disorder of this world that I should consider embarking on a mission of such importance in the company of none but three humans. However, I am instructed to do so.” His gaze flicked to Earthborn and back. “I serve at my queen’s pleasure.”
The colonel’s lips curled at the corner. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Sting inclined his head, but didn’t comment.
“This task you undertake,” Earthborn said, “is of the utmost importance. You must destroy the abominations Shadow is creating before they are hatched. It is the only chance we have to free my people from Shadow’s hold and to return to our home and the life for which we were born.”
Hunting humans, Sam reminded herself when her stomach gave a guilty twist. Eating people.
“This mission will save us all,” Earthborn continued. “It is worth making bargains with the enemy to achieve it, is it not, O’Neill?”
Sam found herself gazing at the floor, uncomfortable with how close that got to their hidden truth.
“Sometimes,” the colonel said, “you just gotta do what you gotta do to survive.”
Chapter 5
Arbella — 2098
Consciousness returned in a slow bloom of pain and dizziness. Daniel waited a few moments for the dull ache to ease, before sitting up, rubbing the back of his head. “Ow… What the hell happened?”
“We have been imprisoned,” said Teal’c. He sat cross-legged on the bunk opposite, staring at the door.
Daniel squinted around the small room, patting his pockets. “Hey, did they take—? Oh. Thanks,” he said, when Teal’c proffered his glasses. “Are we still in the Stargate facility?” he said once he could see properly again. The bare walls gave nothing away.
“We are. Agent Yuma had us escorted here. Or rather I was escorted. You were carried.”
Ignoring what he suspected was straight-faced Jaffa sass, Daniel stood and walked over to the door, trying the handle. It didn’t budge. He sensed Teal’c watching him and gave him a sideways glance. “Already tried that, huh?”
Teal’c merely inclined his head.
Returning to the bunk, Daniel climbed up on it to peer out of the tiny window. In the near distance, the lights of Laketown sparkled in the approaching night. Twilight cast shades of violet across the landscape, mingling with the ochre of the Arbellan rocks to create a picture that was quite beautiful. He’d seen enough of this society’s inner workings, however, to understand that not all here was as shiny as it seemed. Their current accommodation was proof enough of that, though he’d thought that the success of their mission would have engendered a little more warm feeling towards them. “Do you know where they took Lana?”
“I only saw her being led out of the gateroom. I assume they have taken her to President Jones.”
“I guess he’s not big on gratitude, huh?” It was a glib comment, but Daniel kept returning to what Teal’c had said before they’d come through the gate. He could imagine how Jones might feel, having his wife finally returned to him, only to find her so broken, her mind perhaps irreparably damaged. Of course SG-1 weren’t to blame for her condition, but it was possible that wouldn’t matter to Jones. Daniel knew too well how irrational one’s thoughts could be when it came to the wellbeing of the woman you loved. “So any ideas on how we get out of here?”
“There is a guard on the other side of that door. I could easily disarm him if we can find a way to open the door. I know the route back to the gateroom, however…”
“However it’s full of security force officers,” finished Daniel. “Not that I’m doubting your skills, Teal’c, but I don’t like the odds of us against a room full of armed men and women.”
“I agree,” said Teal’c. “Their officers are poorly trained and lack any battle readiness; however their numbers would compensate for that. We would never make it to the Stargate.”
“Let’s think about how we’d get the door open first. Has anyone been in?”
“Not since they brought us here.”
For an alarming moment, Daniel wondered if they just planned to leave them here until they starved to death, but he dismissed the idea. The Arbellans might be bull-headed and insular, but he’d not sensed that they were cruel. Yuma was likely just making them sweat it out. As if in response to his thoughts, there was the sound of the door being unlocked and Daniel jumped back just as it opened. From the corner of his eye, he saw Teal’c stand in one fluid motion, tense and ready for action if necessary.
A guard whose face he didn’t recognize held the door open for Agent Yuma to enter. She was trailed by two other guards who took up positions inside the room. The door guard left, locking the door behind him.
“Sit please,” she said, gesturing to the bunk behind Teal’c.
“Uh, I think I’d rather stand,” said Daniel.
Yuma�
�s expression didn’t change as she turned to one of her guards and said, “Have them sit.”
Teal’c stepped forward at the same time the guard did, hands balling into fists, but Daniel stayed him with a hand on his arm. “Alright,” he said to Yuma. He knew it for a power play; he also knew that she’d just established the upper hand. He felt some of the tension leave Teal’c’s arm, but he knew the Jaffa would be ready to move if danger presented itself. He only hoped he could keep up if the time came. “I’m not sure why we’re being held here,” Daniel said to Yuma. “We had an agreement with President Jones. You know that.”
“No, Dr. Jackson, SG-1 had an agreement with the president.”
Daniel gave a puzzled laugh and glanced at Teal’c, before pulling at his own sleeve so that Yuma could see the patch there. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, knowing he was being facetious, but feeling a dangerous urge to provoke the woman.
With a brief glance at the SG-1 patch, she gave him a cold smile and said, “You are one half of SG-1. Where are Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter?”
“On Earth,” he replied.
“Doing what?”
“Uh, not much. All their favorite hang-outs are pretty much dust these days.”
“What are they planning?”
The agent’s attitude was beginning to rile. Daniel was hungry, thirsty and the base of his skull was still really resenting the blow from the butt of a gun. “They’re doing what Arbella won’t and trying to save Earth from the Wraith.”
Yuma laughed—the only real human gesture she’d shown since entering the room. “Alone?” she said, incredulous.
Daniel hesitated, angry with himself for saying too much. Now he could either lie, making Jack and Sam look reckless and stupid, and risk being called on it, or he could tell the truth about their temporary truce with Hecate—a Goa’uld who had been involved in the first invasion of Earth.
Teal’c saved him from the choice. “Agent Yuma, I do not believe the movements of Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter need concern you.”
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