“Yes, any word on our little infection?” O’Neill asked. He was probably as worried as Woolsey, and he probably wished he were in the field just as much. And that was something to bring Woolsey up short – he wished he were in the field as much as O’Neill did.
Before Landry could reply there was the hooting of an alarm and the sound of the gate beginning to dial. Instead of replying to O’Neill, Landry picked up the phone and pressed a button, no doubt calling down to the control room below. He glanced up. “It’s Atlantis. Come down and you can talk to Major Lorne yourself.”
“On my way,” O’Neill said, no humor in his voice now as he led the way quickly down the metal staircase. Woolsey followed.
The monitor below lit with a close up of Major Lorne’s face. “Major, what’s the situation?” O’Neill asked.
If Lorne was surprised to see O’Neill instead of Landry, he didn’t let it show. “Dr. Beckett says we’re making good progress on finding a formula that will kill this thing, sir,” he said. “Their models are looking promising, but he wants to tweak it to achieve a higher kill rate before we use it.”
O’Neill nodded. “And our off-world teams?”
“Sitting tight. Ronon’s team is having some weather-related trouble, and they may have to come back if it gets too hairy. We’re trying not to do that for obvious reasons, but if we have to, we will.”
“Understood,” O’Neill said.
“Ronon has good judgment,” Woolsey said. “He’ll make the right call.”
“Is that you, Mr. Woolsey?” Lorne asked.
Woolsey moved into camera range. “Yes. Good to see you, Major. I have every confidence you’ll get this thing worked out.” And there was a time he wouldn’t have said that. But that was before he’d known Atlantis so well.
Lorne nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “There’s something else important. Dr. Weir is alive.”
“What?” O’Neill said.
Woolsey drew a deep breath. “It was true then. The rumors Dr. McKay wanted to follow. It didn’t seem possible.” Improbable, impossible, wishful thinking – and yet. His throat closed. And yet.
“Dr. Weir was on Sateda,” Lorne said. “We found her. She walked right up and said, ‘Major Lorne, it’s good to see you.’ It’s her.”
“Are you certain?” Woolsey asked.
“How did she get there?” O’Neill asked at the same time.
“She had been Ascended,” Lorne said. “Apparently she got kicked out for helping us.”
“As Dr. McKay theorized,” Woolsey said. He was proud his voice didn’t shake a bit.
O’Neill nodded. “Where is she now?”
“Still off-world with the team because of the quarantine. Also we’ve put our protocols for Formerly Ascended Personnel into effect.”
“We have protocols for Formerly Ascended Personnel?” Woolsey blurted. “Really?”
“General O’Neill wrote them,” Lorne said.
“First, find them some clothes,” O’Neill said.
“Dr. Weir had already taken care of that herself,” Major Lorne said. “But per protocol she is remaining off-site until we have done a complete battery of tests.”
“You’ve seen her.” Woolsey knew Lorne had already said he had, but he had to ask again. To confirm. To be sure, as sure as he could be until he saw her himself.
Lorne nodded. “Yes.”
“And?” O’Neill prompted.
“I think she’s Dr. Weir.” Lorne’s voice was firm. “And Dr. Jackson thought so too. He was ascended himself.”
“If Daniel thought she checked out, that’s good enough for me.” O’Neill nodded. “Ok. Run the tests as soon as you can. And I’d like to talk to her as soon as possible.”
“As soon as we get this quarantine situation cleared up,” Major Lorne said. “We’ll have Dr. Beckett go out and run the tests.”
Or they could send someone via spaceship from Earth if Atlantis fell to the infection, but there was no need to say that. There were a few more instructions exchanged, and Lorne disconnected from his end. Woolsey looked at O’Neill in amazement as the wormhole disengaged. “Dr. Weir,” he said. “I don’t believe it.”
O’Neill’s eyes were alight as he clapped Woolsey on the shoulder. “Believe it. Stranger things have happened.”
Radek leaned against the edge of the table, watching as Ember touched keys, his claws loud on the metal. In the screen, the symbols that represented the bacteria and the bacteriophage faded and reformed.
“Aye, that’s better,” Beckett said, from the speaker, and Ember bared teeth.
“I’m not sure it’s enough,” Sindye said, frowning at her own results. “I still show nearly ten percent survival rate.”
The light changed, and Radek looked over his shoulder to see Lorne standing in the doorway. Lorne beckoned, and Radek came to join him, wishing he knew more about experimental biology.
“How’s it going, Doc?”
“Progress, I think.” Radek shrugged. “How’s Airman Salawi?”
“Sound asleep, but unharmed,” Lorne answered. “She’ll get a medal for that, once I figure out how to recommend it.”
“I expect that this does not come up so often,” Radek agreed.
“Well, you know how it goes, Doc. It’s all uncharted territory here.” Lorne sobered quickly. “When you say progress —?”
“I mean it is going fairly well,” Radek said. “They have not found the exact compound they wish to use, but they think they are close. And the disinfectant seems to have slowed the bacteria’s effects considerably.”
“Yeah. That’s what I thought — things didn’t seem to be falling apart quite so quickly — only I didn’t want to mention it for fear of jinxing things.” Lorne paused. “Why can’t we just keep spraying it around? Isn’t it killing the stuff?”
“It kills much of it, and weakens the rest,” Radek answered. “Understand, I’m not a biologist, but that’s what both Beckett and Ember say. The problem is, anything it doesn’t kill will still mutate. And we will have the same problem.”
“And we can’t risk spreading it here in Pegasus or, worse, back to Earth,” Lorne said. “So we’re stuck with a time bomb until they find something that’ll destroy it completely.”
“Pretty much so, yes.”
Lorne jerked his head toward the door. “That wasn’t the only thing I wanted to ask. If you don’t mind, Doc?”
Radek followed warily, wondering what new disaster was looming. “Yes? I will be needed —”
“Ember. He wasn’t — you know, faking it? Because Salawi doesn’t seem all that hurt.”
And why am I the one who has to defend the Wraith? Radek shook his head. “I don’t think so. He was — I had noticed he was not right. Perhaps he was just being careful?”
“I guess.” Lorne didn’t sound convinced, and Radek didn’t really blame him. Dealing with the Wraith was… confusing. For everyone.
“I must get back,” he said, and Lorne nodded.
“Keep me posted, Doc.”
“Of course.” Radek turned back into the lab just as Sindye straightened from her screen. A moment later, Ember did the same, flexing his fingers, and Radek looked form one to the other. “Results?”
“The next test is running,” Sindye answered, “and the simulation.”
“It looks promising,” Ember said. “But if it works — I am considering the best way to deliver it to all the affected areas.”
“You said it had to be done all at once,” Radek said.
Ember nodded. “That is best. Then there is no chance of anything being overlooked, or of anything escaping.”
“Then it can’t be applied as a liquid or even as a spray,” Radek said.
“An aerosol?” Sindye asked.
“Through the ventilation system?” Radek considered that. It might work, and it would certainly spread the compound widely enough. “We would need to be sure it wouldn’t be so heavy that it damaged exposed equipment.”<
br />
“Or affected people’s breathing,” Sindye said. “But at the same time, it would need to be heavy enough to coat everything, and do it evenly.”
“I think we can create an aerosol that meets those criteria,” Ember said thoughtfully. “A fine mist, very like the mists that hydrate our ships — yes, I think we can do that with this compound. It will leave a residue, but it will be almost intangible.”
“Just creating an aerosol doesn’t mean that it will reach everywhere at the same time,” Sindye said.
“No, certainly not,” Radek said. “But if we use the ventilation system, and give it a push — it will be very close.” He looked at Ember. “Will that be enough?”
The Wraith considered. “Yes, I think — Yes. It should be.”
So it would have to be in the ventilators. Radek reached for his laptop, wincing at the roughness of the plastic case. If he’d needed a reminder that the alflageolis had merely been slowed, not stopped, that would have been more than enough. He put that aside, and called up the plans of the local ventilation systems, angling the screen so that Ember couldn’t see. The Wraith bared teeth in what might have been wry amusement, but did not pursue the question. There were three key junctions, Radek saw, three places where an injection of aerosol would spread quickly and evenly throughout the city. Two were easily accessible from within the quarantine area; the third could be reached, but it would be easier to get to the junction from an access passage on the tower’s third level. They would have to reprogram the city’s protocols to allow the aerosol to spread without Atlantis’s automatic defenses attempting to scrub it out of the air, but he thought he could manage that. McKay would do it more quickly, of course, and possibly better — but McKay wasn’t here. It was his job.
“What do we have that we can adapt to produce the aerosol?” he asked.
“Here?” Sindye looked momentarily nonplused. “I don’t know, I’ll have to take an inventory.”
“If you would, please.” Radek reached for a stool, setting the laptop on the console in front of him, and touched keys to enter the maintenance subroutines. If he could piggy-back on one of the scrubber routines, that should surely allow him to tag the aerosol as harmless… He scrolled through the system, found the section he wanted, and brought it to the foregrounded window. If he altered these parameters, just here, added an exception? He shook his head, annoyed at himself for failing to see the obvious. That would open the system to other outside hazards, ones that he wanted the system to continue to reject. Of course, he would be removing the patch as soon as it had worked, but — it would be better not to take the chance at all. There was bound to be another way.
He flipped back to the main window, began scrolling again through the list of system routines. If not maintenance, what? The health screens were unlikely to be helpful, designed as they were to keep things out rather than to introduce them, and he scanned down the rest of the list without finding anything more promising. He scrolled up again, more slowly, making himself pay attention to each section heading, but saw nothing until he reached the health screens again. He studied them more carefully, and touched the keys that opened up the test subroutines. Perhaps he could adjust one of the system tests to let him release the aerosol. He could worry about the push later.
But, no, there was a secondary test procedure that was intended to send a blast of air throughout the ventilators. If he could adapt that, disable the filters for the duration of the test — yes, that would be possible with only a minor revision of the code. He typed the new commands into the simulator, watched as the ventilation pumped a solid volume of air through the system. That part would work, though he would need to refine the code a little. And if they could get the aerosols into position, once they had the final compound —
And that was the trick, of course: they had to have a compound that would actually destroy the alflageolis once and for all. He saved his work and closed the laptop, then came to stand at Ember’s shoulder. “Any luck?”
“The analysis is nearly finished.” Ember glared at the screen as though he could force it to produce results more quickly. “It is… promising. I don’t want to say more.”
Were the Wraith superstitious, Radek wondered. Before he could say anything, he heard Sindye swear. “Trouble?”
“Yeah.” She straightened from the sample boxes where they were monitoring the degradation. “I don’t like to say it, but I think our disinfectant is losing its effect.”
Radek swore in turn, and Ember swung around, moving for the first time at his full Wraith speed. He checked himself with an effort, and bent over the boxes, hissing softly.
“I think you’re right. And — its DNA is changing.”
“So what do we do?” Radek asked. “I have a way to disperse the aerosol, but it is not yet made, nor do we have the dispensers.”
“We have some time,” Ember said. He had himself under control again. “This is not yet out of control, just beginning to grow again. We have time.”
“Enough time?” Radek couldn’t stop himself from asking, and was unsurprised when the Wraith shrugged.
“Let us hope so.”
Osir was the first to lift, rising into the now-lightening sky with a whine of engines. John watched from inside the jumper, Elizabeth and Dekaas standing silent beside him. Teyla had returned to the installation to check on Rodney and Daniel, which was probably a smart thing to do, but he missed both her common sense and her ability to talk to the Wraith. Though from what she had said, Dekaas also had the Gift. Presumably he could translate if necessary, though John wasn’t sure if he ought to trust a returning Wraith worshipper. Pet. Whatever. Neither one seemed like a term he’d choose if it was him, but he couldn’t think of anything better.
The jumper’s screens showed that Osir had reached orbit, the hiveship staying well out of range, and he toggled the jumper’s radio. “Mirilies. You’re go for launch.”
“Thanks,” Yoran said, his voice crackling in the speakers, and a moment later Mirilies rose from the pavement, dust whipping in sudden spirals as the antigravity took hold. It shot into the sky, faster than Osir, and John checked the jumper’s screens again.
“I show both Osir and Mirilies in orbit,” he said, on the channel they had agreed to share. “Guide, your cruiser may land.”
He saw flecks of red as Durant’s guns went hot, but the Wraith had agreed to allow that — mostly, John thought, because there wasn’t much Durant’s weapons could do if the Wraith decided to attack. He saw the dot that was the cruiser change course, angling well away from the two Traveler ships, and then drop into the atmosphere. They could all see it then, a streak of fire and smoke high in the twilight sky, and then at last hovering at the end of the field as agreed. It was too big for the landing area, but the ground beyond it to the north was level enough, and the Wraith pilot brought it gently to a stop.
John glanced over his shoulder. “Ok. What happens next?”
“In two hours, the hive can break orbit,” Elizabeth answered. “I suspect it may take a bit longer than that, but I don’t think that’s a problem. Two hours after they’re gone, Durant can leave. And then — we need to decide what to do with Dis.”
“I don’t want to bring him to Atlantis,” John said. “Too risky.”
“I agree.” Elizabeth rested her folded arms on the back of the empty co-pilot’s chair. “I wonder… It’s a real problem for them, and they’re not going to stop hunting until they find a way to get Ran back.”
“I don’t know that that’s our problem,” John said.
“Well, it’s likely to remain mine,” Elizabeth said, with a wry smile, and John nodded.
“Ok, yeah. We can’t take him back to Atlantis, we can’t keep him prisoner here — and I really don’t think it’s a good idea to hand him that Vanir scout we found and send him on his way. Got any better ideas?”
“I’m thinking,” Elizabeth said. “It’s possible…” She shook her head. “Let me think about it some mo
re, please.”
“Ok,” John said again. “But we don’t have a lot of time.”
“Understood.”
The radio hissed, and Guide’s voice sounded in the speakers. “Sheppard. Our cruiser has landed. We will be exchanging some of our people, and then returning them to the hive with our queen. If anyone is coming with us, they should be ready.”
John looked over his shoulder at Dekaas. “That would be you.”
The medic nodded.
“Copy that,” John said. “He’ll be ready.” He glanced back again. “As long as you’re sure you want to. You can still back out.”
“And do what?” Dekaas smiled. “My bridges are burned. And — this is what I want.”
John swallowed the first two things that came to mind. “Whatever you say. But if you decide differently —”
“Thanks,” Dekaas said. “I appreciate that.”
“I want to talk to Daniel,” Elizabeth said abruptly. “And I think Dekaas should take another look at Dis while we have him.”
“Go ahead,” John said. It was like old times, like it had been at the beginning of the mission, and though he knew he probably shouldn’t let himself fall back into the old habits, it was almost impossible not to. This was Elizabeth, unmistakably herself and unmistakably unharmed — the SGC had trusted Jackson twice after he’d been ascended; they could trust Elizabeth Weir. “Tell Rodney I want to talk to him.”
“I’ll send him back,” Elizabeth said, and led Dekaas down the ramp. As they crossed the pavement, someone appeared in Durant’s hatch, waving. John couldn’t hear the words, but both Elizabeth and the medic paused, and a teenage girl came running down the ramp, a bulging satchel banging at her hip. She said something more, and Dekaas took the satchel. He slung it over his shoulder, and the girl ran back up the ramp. Dekaas gave another of his wry smiles and he and Elizabeth disappeared into the installation. And surely that was a good sign, too, John thought. Dekaas had been prepared to walk away with nothing, but at least someone on Durant didn’t think that was fair. Both Teyla and Elizabeth believed in those little victories.
Stargate Atlantis: Third Path: Book 8 in the Legacy series Page 20
