SGA-01

by Sally Malcolm

  “Yeah, yeah,” Sheppard assured him, feigning nonchalance. “General O’Neill just gave it to me.” The truth was, he was far from nonchalant. Ancients? Weapons? Technology light years beyond us? His heart was hammering with an excitement he rarely felt when he wasn’t at 20,000 feet with a bandit on his ass.

  “Just now?”

  “Yeah, five minutes ago.” Now spill.

  The guy didn’t seem reassured. “Then,” he began warily, “you don’t even know about the Stargate?”

  Sheppard stared at him. “The what?”

  Dr. Jackson’s research lab was as cluttered as always, microscopes competing with books and paper for the limited space he’d been allotted. But Weir’s attention wasn’t on the barely controlled chaos at the edges of the room, it was firmly fixed on the little theatre taking place around the wide table at the center.

  General O’Neill had arrived, remarkably unfazed by his run-in with the rogue drone. In fact, when she’d started to apologize, he’d waved it away and said something about it being a good demonstration of the pilot’s skills. Not fully understanding the military mind, Weir had let it rest. Frankly, she didn’t have a lot of attention to spare from the business at hand. The General’s decision today would mean life or death for the Atlantis project, and right now things didn’t seem to be going in her favor.

  “Pegasus?” O’Neill layered the word with amusement and sarcasm in equal measure.

  “It’s the name of a dwarf galaxy in the local group,” Dr. Jackson supplied, utterly unperturbed by the General’s apparent lack of interest.

  O’Neill glanced at the map spread out before him on the table, one eyebrow lifting. “It’s not on the map.”

  “No, it’s very far away,” Daniel agreed. “It’s actually out here somewhere,” he added, gesturing vaguely beyond the room. “We weren’t even looking in the right neighborhood. I figure the Ancients packed up their entire city and left our galaxy somewhere between five and ten million years ago.”

  O’Neill was apparently immune to Jackson’s infectious enthusiasm. “In their flying city?”

  “Yes.” Daniel stopped suddenly, brow furrowing. “What?”

  The General was five degrees beyond skeptical. “Flying city?”

  “Keep in mind this is the race that built the Stargate,” Jackson reminded him. “They did everything big.”

  The idea of a civilization that had explored their entire galaxy simply packing up shop and going home still gave Weir pause for thought. “Why?” she asked, when it seemed that no one else would speak.

  “You mean why did they leave?” Daniel asked, turning his gaze away from the dubious O’Neill. He shrugged. “Who knows? The Ancients on Earth were suffering a plague. That we know. Maybe some of them were trying to start over, seeding life in a new galaxy…? Maybe that’s what Ancient civilizations do?” His attention returned to O’Neill, intense as a magnesium flame. “The point is, we know where they went.”

  At Weir’s side, McKay stirred. He’d been unusually quiet so far, and she suspected he was somewhat intimidated by O’Neill. She was hazy on the details, but knew that he’d encountered the General back at the SGC on more than one occasion. “After all that time,” McKay said, addressing Jackson, “is there any hope of actually meeting them?” Weir couldn’t tell if he was excited or terrified by the prospect. A little of both, perhaps.

  Jackson just shrugged again. “I have no idea,” he confessed, “but it’s reason enough to go.”

  And she wasn’t going to be arguing with that. “I’ve been choosing the members of this expedition for months, Doctor.” She looked at O’Neill, caught his eye and held it. “I’m not the one that needs convincing.”

  His flat smile lacked any warmth. “I’m convinced. Have fun.”

  Dr. Jackson sucked in a breath. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “We need the Zed Pee Em,” McKay supplied helpfully. He seemed pleased to have a contribution to make.

  But O’Neill just looked blank. “The what?”

  “Zee Pee Em,” Daniel corrected, and with an apologetic nod toward McKay added, “He’s Canadian.”

  “I’m sorry,” O’Neill replied, deadpan.

  The jibe seemed to go right over McKay’s head – there were times when his thick skin was actually useful, Weir decided – and he launched into an excited explanation. “Zero Point Module, General. The Ancient power source you recovered from Praclarush Taonas that’s now powering this outpost’s defenses.” When O’Neill didn’t respond, McKay continued, attempting to sound modest. He failed abysmally. “I’ve since determined it generates its enormous power from vacuum energy derived from a self-contained region of subspace/time.”

  After a long beat, O’Neill said, “That was a waste of a perfectly good explanation.” His astute gaze returned to Jackson, then landed on Weir. “And the answer is ‘no’.”

  No? Impossible… Weir felt the breath catch in her chest. He was saying no? He couldn’t. He couldn’t just refuse to let them take the biggest step in the history of mankind just because—

  “Jack, you know that gating between galaxies requires an incredible amount of power.” Dr. Jackson wasn’t giving up. Good. Neither was she.

  “Yes. I do,” O’Neill agreed. “Find another way.”

  “There is no other way and you know it,” Daniel insisted. His irritation was beginning to seep through the cracks in his calm exterior, and before O’Neill could answer he hurried on. “I know what you’re going to say: the outpost’s power source has barely enough energy left in it to defend Earth in the event of another attack.”

  O’Neill shrugged. “That is what I was going to say. Slower.”

  “All the more reason to go…” Jackson dangled the unspoken promise like candy before a child.

  The General cautiously sniffed at the bait. “There might be more of those things in Atlantis?”

  “Yes!” Jackson was jubilant. “And who knows what else we could find? This isn’t just another civilization, Jack, these were the Gate Builders.”

  O’Neill seemed reluctantly impressed, and Weir decided it was time to press the slight advantage. “The potential wealth of knowledge and technology outweighs anything we’ve come across since we first stepped through the Stargate.”

  “That’s a…large statement.”

  And not one she was going to retract. “Yes, it is.”

  For a moment O’Neill looked at her, as if assessing her worth or her strength. Weir couldn’t be sure. And then, quietly, he said, “With the amount of power you need to make the trip… odds are it’ll be one way.”

  And that was the rub, the fly in the ointment. But it wasn’t news. “We know that,” she told him earnestly. “The potential benefit to humanity far outweighs the risk, General. And it’s a risk that every member of my expedition is willing to take.”

  She glanced over at McKay, who’d been watching the exchange intently, hoping for an earnest nod of agreement. Instead, he was looking perturbed. When he caught her eye, he said, “One way?”

  She glanced at O’Neill with the lift of an eyebrow, and caught his amused smile before he had time to hide it.

  The story was incredible. Mind-blowing. And after a tour in Afghanistan, John Sheppard thought he knew all about mind-blowing. But Stargates and aliens with snakes in their bellies, and little gray men, not to mention Ancients who could become energy beings and fly cities halfway across the universe… It was – well if he hadn’t known better, if he hadn’t actually seen that flying squid earlier, he’d have been convinced he was the subject of some colossal practical joke.

  “…We think the gene was used as a sort of genetic key, if you will,” Beckett was explaining. That was his name: Carson Beckett, MD. And the accent was Scottish, not Irish. “So that only their kind could operate certain dangerous or powerful technologies.”

  Sheppard wasn’t looking at the man. Instead he was circling the strange, alien chair. Alien! “And some people
have the same genes as these Ancients?” In which case, perhaps ‘alien’ was the wrong word?

  “The specific gene is very rare,” Beckett told him, from where he was leaning up against the wall. “But on the whole they looked very much like us. In fact,” he continued, warming to the subject, “they were the first. We’re the second evolution of this form – the Ancients having explored this galaxy millions of years before we even—”

  He broke off as Sheppard came around to stand in front of the chair. It was right there, how could he not try it out?

  “Major,” Beckett took a step closer, “please don’t…”

  Whatever. Sheppard sat down. “Come on,” he protested, “what are the odds of my having the same—”

  The chair moved, sliding back and tilting his feet up. A pale golden light glowed everywhere and he could feel a gentle reverberation through his entire body. The chair was humming to itself. Sheppard held his breath, staring wide-eyed at the shocked face of Carson Beckett. Crap.

  “Quite slim, actually,” Beckett squeaked. Then, louder, “Dr. Weir!” He was about to bolt, turning back at the last moment to wag a finger at Sheppard. “Don’t move!”

  Move? Sheppard barely dared breathe!

  Within seconds footsteps came running, and Sheppard found himself face to face with a small crowd of astonished people. General O’Neill was the only one he recognized and his face was all scowl.

  “Who is this?” a slight, dark-haired woman asked. Under other circumstances he might have considered her attractive, but right now she just looked pissed.

  “I thought I told you not to touch anything!” O’Neill snapped.

  Sheppard felt obliged to defend himself, even if he dared not move a muscle. “I just sat down.” It sounded lame, even to his own ears.

  And then someone else was talking to him in clipped, staccato words. This guy didn’t seem to have a lot of patience. “Major,” he said abruptly, “think of where we are in the solar system.”

  Huh? The solar system? Sheppard struggled to remember back to the little model he’d made a hundred years ago, when he was a kid at home and aliens were something you saw at the movies. Third rock from the sun, right?

  Suddenly, hanging in the air right above him, someone switched on a light show. He could pick out the sun and all its planets slowly orbiting in perfect, minute detail. It was astonishing, and from the sharp intakes of breath all around Sheppard suspected he wasn’t the only one impressed.

  And then another more ominous thought stirred in his mind and distracted him from the special effects. “Did I do that?”

  The silence that greeted his words was as eloquent as a round of applause, and John Sheppard was suddenly struck by the absolute certainty that these people were about to turn his life upside-down, inside-out and back-to-front.

  He really didn’t like it when people tried to do that…

  Chapter Two

  It was time to leave, and Jack O’Neill was beginning to think that he might actually walk out of Antarctica this time – barring the possibility of a freak elevator accident on his way topside, things were looking good. Unless, of course, Elizabeth Weir talked him to death before he actually reached the elevator in the first place. Daniel must have been giving lessons. Jack picked up his pace, forcing her to almost jog to keep up with his long-legged stride, but she wasn’t deterred.

  “We could be on our way to discovering an entirely new Ancient civilization,” she enthused. “Best case scenario we meet some actual Ancients who are willing to help us, but if we don’t…” She trailed off, forcing him to glance at her. “We need him.”

  No way. Not going to happen. “I need Daniel here.” And that was the end of it.

  Weir looked confused for half a heartbeat, then said, “I’m talking about Major Sheppard.”

  “Oh.” He’d kinda like to hang on to the kid too – there was something amusing about the idea of having Carter hammer him into shape. Sheppard had some rough edges but a hell of a lot of potential, and Carter always liked a new project. “Haven’t you already got a dozen or so people on your expedition team who can use Ancient technology?”

  “With concentration and training, yes, they can make it work,” Weir agreed. Then her eyes lit up, “John Sheppard does it naturally.”

  And Sheppard could probably charm the socks off Anubis himself too. If Anubis actually wore socks. Now there was a question to ponder… Jack stopped at the elevator, turned, and looked at the woman standing before him. What he had to tell her next was a test, of sorts. He was interested to see how she’d respond. “I’ve looked into his record, Doctor.”

  She gave a brief nod. “I know about the supposed black mark in Afghanistan,” she said immediately, and with an attitude O’Neill admired. “He was trying to save the lives of three servicemen.”

  “Disobeying a direct order in the process.” And that was the material issue; one that a civilian like Weir was unlikely to understand.

  She surprised him then, another smile curving her lips. “I’ve read your own file, General.”

  Ah. Good point.

  “Please.”

  The elevator doors rattled open. “It’s your expedition,” he said. Your decision. “If you want him, ask him.”

  He stepped into the cage, but Weir stopped him with two words. “I have.”

  There were few things that could stop Jack O’Neill in his tracks, but this was one of them. “You’re kidding.”

  She shook her head. “I was hoping you’d talk to him.”

  And then some. What the hell was the kid thinking about, turning this down? It was incredible. Unbelievable. Frankly, it was bizarre. As the elevator rattled up through the ice, Jack turned the problem over and over in his mind, but there was no way of looking at it that made sense. Sheppard had two choices – waste his talents flying around the icepacks of Antarctica, or take part in the greatest endeavor in human history? Keep sucking up the bad rap for going back for those guys in Afghanistan, or start fresh with a new team in a new goddamn galaxy? Call him crazy, but wasn’t it a no-brainer?

  He found Sheppard on the small, windswept helipad outside the dome that covered the borehole. The kid waved when he saw Jack approaching, and climbed into the helicopter to start the preflight routine. Given that Sheppard had just discovered the world’s biggest and best kept secret – and been offered the chance to explore a galaxy named after a flying horse – he looked remarkably unperturbed. Confident, one might say. Chipper. No one should be this laidback, Jack decided as he too climbed into the helicopter. It wasn’t natural.

  After a moment of silence, Jack turned and watched the kid complete the preflight. He considered his words carefully, then said, “This isn’t a long trip, so I’ll be as succinct as possible.”

  Sheppard looked up, and Jack held his gaze with a sharp, penetrating look.

  The kid got the message. “That’s pretty succinct,” he said, turning back to the controls.

  “Thank you.”

  Sheppard puffed out a breath. “Well, I told Dr. Weir I’d think about it.”

  Think about it? What the hell? “And? So? Well?” There was no answer. And it still didn’t make any goddamn sense. “You’re a seasoned officer. You’ve seen combat, so I know you don’t scare easily.”

  For the first time, Sheppard reacted. “With all due respect, sir, we were just attacked by an alien missile, I just found out I’ve got some mutant gene—”

  “Do I look like a mutant?”

  That shocked the younger man and his eyebrows rose as he stared for a moment. “Okay. Fine.” But he recovered fast. Very fast. “Then there’s this Stargate and expeditions to other galaxies…”

  Put like that, O’Neill could see how it might feel a little overwhelming. Time to take the kid’s ego out of the equation. “This isn’t about you, Sheppard,” he snapped, deliberately ratcheting up his irritation. “It’s bigger than that.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe it’s just me, but right now at this very
second, whether I go on this mission seems to me to be just a little bit about me.”

  Damn, but Jack liked this kid’s attitude. Sheppard would have given Carter hell, and that would’ve been fun to watch. “Let me ask you something,” Jack said. “Why’d you become a pilot?”

  “I think people who don’t want to fly are crazy.” No hesitation on that one.

  “And I think people who don’t want to go through the Stargate are equally whacked!” That got a reaction too; perhaps he was starting to get through at last. All he needed now was an ultimatum. “The offer expires when this bird touches down. If you can’t say yes by then, I don’t want you.”

  Sheppard gave him a flat look, revealing nothing. Without comment he started up the rotor.

  Jack looked away, out the window, as Sheppard took them up into the air and banked hard to the right, heading back to McMurdo. It was a short trip; he just hoped the kid could think as fast as he flew. And as smart.

  Fall had settled across Washington, DC, that poignant moment when the last days of summer finally capitulated to the fresh, sapphire blue skies of autumn. The air was crisp, and even here, among the brownstone houses of Georgetown, Elizabeth Weir thought she could detect the scent of wood smoke in the air. It had always been her favorite time of year, a time of new beginnings and fond farewells. A time to turn her back on the hazy heat of summer and to march forward into the crystal clear days of winter.

  This year the change was more poignant still. This year, though her heart was already halfway to the Pegasus galaxy, she found the goodbyes almost too difficult to bear. But it was hardly surprising; this year, for the first time, she knew she might never return. For the first time she knew it might be – would probably be – the final goodbye.

  As she sat at the wide oak table and watched her family and closest friends talking and smiling and laughing, she wondered, for the hundredth time, how she dared do this. How she dared do this to them. The adventure was hers, the grief would be theirs. And she couldn’t even tell them. If the worst happened, they’d be fed a lie – a cover story – and would bury an empty coffin.