“The Wraith,” Atelia said. “Those stories are about the Wraith.”
“I think so,” Daniel said. “I think that when humans were evacuated back to the Milky Way after the Ancients were defeated by the Wraith, they told their children and grandchildren about the horrible monsters they were fleeing from. And there was enough remembered truth in those stories that they survived, and were passed down through the millennia. Somewhere out there, beyond night, there are monsters who will drain your life for food.” He paused. “But that’s not the only piece of the story. Vampires come back for their families, not out of hate but out of misplaced love. Some vampires sought immortality, heedless of what they had to do to achieve it. Some were humans who fell in love with a vampire who courted them in the night, and accepted the change willingly. Some of the most terrible vampire stories are about parents who must destroy their children, siblings who must destroy each other, rather than see them transformed, no matter how much they love the lost one. There are tales of entire villages that were forced to unearth all their dead, dismember their bodies one by one, violating all custom and all the proper rites and rituals in respect of death, to find the vampire, or vampires, and destroy them.”
The tale had come around in a suspiciously neat fashion, and Teyla gave him a sharp look. Atelia said, “That is how my husband hunted the Wraith. And yet…” She looked away, shaking her head.
And yet it had done as much harm as good, Teyla thought. And both Atelia and Ford had known that in the end. She said, “We have no such tales among my people. Nor among any folk that I have known.”
“You have the Wraith,” Elizabeth said. “You don’t need stories.”
“And do your stories offer any hope besides kill or be killed?” Teyla knew her voice was sharp, but she didn’t care. The Wraith had not chosen to become what they were.
“People still tell vampire stories,” Daniel said. “As I said, it’s an amazingly persistent legend. The most recent versions tell of vampires, who hide in the corners of the world, dangerous, yes, and still hungry, but who follow their own codes of ethics, who feed without killing and who make more vampires only with the consent of the changed. It’s the same story, but from a different perspective.”
Teyla let out a long breath. That was where he had been heading all along, through all this rambling story: change is imaginable because it has been imagined. She couldn’t argue with that. Atelia fed Jordan a cracker, her face startled and thoughtful, and Teyla thought the idea had sunk home. And that was enough for now. “Here,” she said, “will he let me take him? Then you can eat.”
“Are you sure?” Atelia asked.
“My son is only a little older,” Teyla answered. “And I miss him.”
As she had expected, that was enough. She took Jordan onto her own lap, settling him so that he could see his mother, and offered him another cracker before he had a chance to think of crying. Atelia reached for the packet of sausage, eating quickly now that she was able, and Teyla relaxed into her chair. It would not be an easy homecoming, but it was a better ending than any of them had believed possible.
Lorne ran a hand through his hair, thinking wistfully of his own room, his own bed. He’d been sleeping on a cot in the back of his office since the outbreak, and he was thoroughly sick of it, though at least tonight he could, with luck, return to his proper quarters. He was tired of MREs, too, and of the same clothes, and ready to drink something besides the coffee brewed in the 48-cup urn that lived in the larger conference room. More importantly, Atlantis was all but out of fresh food. There was still plenty to eat, but it was all canned or frozen or powdered, and Sgt. Patterson reported that he had reserved the last few dozen eggs for cooking. Not to mention that there were still teams off-world: they’d gotten Dr. Parrish’s team back safely — and from all accounts it was a damn good thing they’d had Ronon with them — but there were still a couple of teams waiting for the final all-clear before they could come through.
His tablet chirped and he touched the screen, scanning the latest report from the team tasked with tracking down any remaining traces of contamination. This was the second sweep, and so far it had all come back clean. And if that didn’t mean they could resume normal operations, he thought, he wanted to know why. The main computer beeped at him, and he looked up to see Beckett’s face framed in the screen.
“Major. I see you’ve received the report.”
“It’s looking good,” Lorne said. “Unless you’re going to tell me that there’s something you’ve missed?”
“It’s certainly looking promising,” Beckett answered.
“What more do you want us to do?” Lorne asked, controlling his tone with an effort. “We need to resume gate travel — we’ve got people off-world who need to come home and we’re running out of fresh food. Not to mention that we’ve already brought people and equipment through the gate room without any signs of harm.”
“I know that.” Beckett looked annoyed himself. “But we also can’t risk this getting loose anywhere else.”
Lorne took a deep breath, controlling his own irritation. He’d definitely spent too many nights sleeping in his office. “I’m absolutely with you on that, Doc. So what else do you suggest we do?”
Before Beckett could answer, there was a knock at the door. Lorne looked up to see Zelenka and Ember standing in the doorway, and waved them in. “I got your report. Dr. Beckett and I were just discussing it.” He turned the screen so that they could see as well, Ember staying carefully out of reach of either human.
“I think we are clean,” Zelenka said, and Ember nodded.
“We can’t resume travel through the Stargate until we’re absolutely certain the alflageolis is eradicated,” Beckett said. “I’m proposing to send a team into the corridors around the quarantine zone with some of our more sensitive equipment, so that we can do one more sweep and be positive that we haven’t missed a trace amount.”
“At some point, we are going to have to start believing our instruments,” Zelenka said.
“We need to take the time,” Beckett said. “If we’re wrong, we can’t exactly go back and do it over.”
Yes, but is this next test going to be good enough, Lorne wondered, or is it just going to make you want to do it one more time? They had to be careful, yes, but there was a time when you had to take a chance. He curbed his impatience. Beckett was the expert; he ought to have the last word. He looked at Zelenka, though, who shrugged.
“We have been over this three times, each time with more sensitive equipment,” Zelenka said. “And this last time we also used UV light to test for anything we might have missed with the other scanners. Not to mention that we’ve seen no sign that the degradation of plastics has resumed.”
“Any remaining bacteria would have fluoresced under that light,” Ember said. “We saw none such. And our examination was exacting.”
“Aye.” Beckett drew a deep breath. “And I know we’re running low on supplies. I suppose we can resume gate travel.”
“That would be helpful,” Lorne said. He made himself stop and continue more carefully, “But I need to be sure it’s safe. As you say, we won’t get a second chance.”
“I still want to have some of my technicians do a final scan,” Beckett said, “mostly of hard-to-reach places, but — yes, I think we’ve got it.”
“Thanks, Doc,” Lorne said. “I’ll keep gate travel to a minimum until you’ve finished.”
“That’s probably a useful precaution,” Beckett said, and the screen went dark.
Lorne looked from Ember to Zelenka, Wraith to human, wondering how it was they’d managed to adjust to Ember’s presence. The same way they’d gotten used to Todd’s — Guide’s, he supposed: both sides had remained very clear on the terms of their relationship. And yet he was not, precisely, afraid of Ember. He shoved the thought away. “Well, what do you think? Should I hold off a little longer?”
Zelenka spread his hands. “We must be sure, yes, but we also
need to get supplies. It’s a risk worth taking.”
“I think we are free of this,” Ember said, “but Dr. Beckett’s technique will make certain. Send only a few teams through, yes, but if this comes back clean, I think you are safe.”
Lorne nodded. “Thanks, gentlemen. I appreciate all your hard work.”
Ember bowed his head gracefully, his hair whispering across the shoulders of his leather coat, but Zelenka shrugged. “Yes, well, what I want most of all just now is a night’s sleep in my own bed. If I’m no longer needed?”
“Go for it,” Lorne said, and waved them away.
It took another couple of hours to bring back the last of the gate teams and send out Pollard and his people to trade with the usual suspects. Sateda, at least, had reported no signs of the infection, and Lorne allowed himself to relax as the last of the Marines who had been working there came through. That was the last thing he had to deal with, at least until Sheppard and his people returned from Earth, and he closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the chair’s battered headrest. Just a little rest, that was all he wanted…
“Incoming wormhole,” Banks called from the gate room, and he pushed himself to his feet.
“Trouble?”
“No, sir.” That was Salawi, back on duty and seemingly none the worse for having been fed upon. “It’s the SGC.”
Crap. Lorne swallowed the word, and did his best to look noncommittal as the image formed on the console screen. General Landry looked out at him.
“Major. Can I assume you have your problem under control?”
“Yes, sir.” Lorne automatically straightened his spine. “We’ve resumed limited gate travel pending one final check.”
“And that’s why Colonel Sheppard is on his way to Earth? In a Vanir ship, I might add. To talk to an ascended Vanir? Or is she an Asgard?”
“I honestly don’t know, sir.”
“With Dr. Weir. Who has been presumed a Replicator and dead for the last three years.”
“We believe she was ascended and then unascended, sir. By the Vanir. The ascended one.”
Landry’s eyes narrowed. “And on top of that — well, it’s a damn good thing he’s found Lieutenant Ford, and his brand-new family, but what’s this about needing proof that he’s back on Earth to give to the Wraith?”
“As I understand it, sir, that was our best way to preserve the current agreement,” Lorne said. “The one that says the Wraith don’t eat us.”
For a second, he thought he’d gone too far, but Landry just shook his head. “Do you have an ETA for me, Major?”
Lorne glanced sideways, to see that Salawi had pulled the information up on her screen. “Should be about ten hours, sir. Though they may be going directly to the site Dr. Jackson identified.”
“They’d better not be,” Landry said. “Not without contacting us first.”
There was nothing Lorne could say to that, and Landry’s scowl deepened.
“Right. Consider yourself lucky that this wasn’t your idea, Major. SGC out.”
The wormhole winked out. Lorne took a deep breath, and then another, thinking all the things he’d like to say to Sheppard when Sheppard returned, then put that firmly aside. Time enough for that after he’d gotten some sleep.
The Vanir ship bored on through hyperspace. Dis said they were about eight hours from Earth orbit, sending Rodney into paroxysms of frustrated curiosity, rocketing back and forth from bridge to engine room while Dis ignored his questions. After half an hour of that, John retreated to the little common room, only to find Ford carefully pouring himself a cup of coffee. The lieutenant looked up, startled, and John gave a careful nod.
“Lieutenant. How’s the kid taking the trip?”
“Better than I am, sir,” Ford answered. “But then, he’s always lived on a spaceship.”
“Yeah.” And that was one more piece of weird for Pegasus, John thought, and nodded when Ford held up the pot in mute question. He wondered what Jordan would make of it when he was older, whether he would remember anything of babyhood – if, when he was finally old enough to be told the truth, it would come as a total shock or as confirmation of his strangest dreams. He pulled two of the cubes into a ‘chair’ configuration and settled himself at the table, wrapping his fingers around the cup. “I’ve been wanting to ask, how the hell did you get off that hive?”
Ford gave a wry smile. “Luck, mostly. And a lot of it’s not real clear. After you guys got away, I kept fighting, and then I got knocked off one of the catwalks and got clear of pursuit. After that, when the other hive started shooting – or was that you, sir?”
John nodded. “A little of both. I got ‘em started, but they didn’t trust each other in the first place.”
“Wraith,” Ford said, and shook his head. “Anyway, in the confusion, I managed to steal a Dart, but I couldn’t really fly it, and ended up crashing on the planet.” He shrugged. “It’s not real clear after that. I was running low on the enzyme, starting to really hurt, and the next thing I remember is being on Durant, with their doctor looking after me.” He looked away, his face closed and unhappy. “That – wasn’t fun. He pulled me through, but it had to have been a solid year before I was anything like back to normal. Atelia said – she told me he knew what to do because he was a Wraith worshipper?”
John nodded again.
“That – it’s weird, that’s all. He seemed like a decent guy.”
“It’s complicated.” John refrained from adding anything more. Everybody was going to have to figure this one out for themselves. There was nothing more he could do or say that was going to change anyone’s mind, any more than he was ever going to convince Ronon that this was a good plan. He and Ronon had settled for ‘it’s the best plan we’ve got.’ At least on Earth Ford wouldn’t have to deal with the consequences of that choice every day. “What happened then?”
Ford shrugged. “The Travelers didn’t know where Atlantis was — half of them thought you’d blown it up rather than let the Wraith get it — and most of them didn’t really trust you enough to want to make contact. From some things Dr. McKay said, I had the idea you’d moved the city anyway, so there wasn’t much point trying to find you. And then Durant offered me the chance to transfer to Osir, because they tended to trade in areas that were under heavy Wraith pressure, and they thought my skills would be more use there. So I thought, well, I’ll still be fighting Wraith, and I did some training and worked with some guys to improve their weapons to get a rate of fire that would actually take down a Wraith…”
“And you met Atelia,” John said, and Ford nodded.
“Yeah. And I started thinking about ways to really stick it to the Wraith, and came up with the Wolf. But we never managed to do as much as I wanted. Most people only wanted to do one, maybe two missions, and then go home. And we couldn’t avoid collateral damage. We killed a lot of Wraith, though, sir. We had them worried.”
“You did,” John said. It was no one’s fault, least of all Ford’s, that that answer had proved unsustainable. “You absolutely did.”
“Colonel.” Ford leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What’s going to happen to me? What are my options?”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re a missing man and we’re lucky to have you back,” John said.
“Thank you, sir.” Ford paused. “Is that how the SGC will see it?”
“You were taken prisoner, escaped, and took refuge with friendlies,” John said. “That’s how I see it, and that’s how the SGC’s going to see it. Do you really think General Landry’s going to do anything different?”
“I – you could see it as desertion,” Ford said. “Stealing the puddle jumper and running like that. Threatening to shoot a superior officer.”
“You weren’t in your right mind,” John said. “We didn’t know what the enzyme would do to you, but that’s an explanation, not an excuse. We should have kept you under tighter watch so that you couldn’t do something crazy. That’s our f
ault – my fault, as the officer in charge.” He leaned forward, willing Ford to believe him. “We failed, Aiden. Not you. We failed you.”
They sat in silence for a long moment, Ford’s expression blank, the look of a man contemplating visions only he could see. Dead Wraith, John guessed, remembering Afghanistan. Dead friends. And then, slowly, Ford’s face eased, and he gave a small, wry smile.
“I hope Atelia likes Earth.”
And that his family liked Atelia, John thought, and that he and they would be able to adjust, one presentable worry standing in for all the ones you couldn’t say. “She’s a Traveler, she’s used to strange cultures. And you’ll have all the support you can handle. Landry and O’Neill will see to that.”
“Thanks.” Ford shook his head. “I thought – I was sure I’d never come home.”
“You’ll get used to the idea eventually,” John said.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEY CAME out of hyperspace into high Earth orbit, chasing the dawn line around the planet. John watched the image in the main view screen, orienting himself by glimpses of the planet and the altitude markings displayed in Dis’s smaller screen. They were well clear of the ISS and most satellites, though he could see them on another secondary screen, flecks of green and orange forming a chaotic-seeming swarm around the planet.
“We have achieved orbit,” Dis said. “Where is this shrine of which you spoke?”
Jackson looked up from the console where he’d been studying something, but John held up his hand. “I need to contact the SGC first. Otherwise there’s a chance someone will get irritated and take a shot at us.”
Stargate Atlantis: Third Path: Book 8 in the Legacy series Page 28
