Rodney still looked nonplussed, but John imagined that he could see a glint of something new there. Pride, maybe. Rodney had successfully received the gene therapy, and there was something to be said for being one of the select few to have the magic touch.
“As flattered as I am that you see my potential for a job in sanitation, the city seems to like the Major here better than me.”
John’s focus snapped fully into the conversation. He got the distinct impression that he’d just been volunteered for something. “Say what?”
“Well put, as always,” Rodney muttered dryly.
“But you know the systems better than anyone, Doctor,” countered the female engineer, whose name John still hadn’t learned but whose skills at buttering up the boss apparently were top-notch.
“I suppose duty calls, then. I should have had overtime pay built into my contract.” Rodney rose from the table. Mess hall tray clutched in his hands, he somehow managed to adopt an air of unwavering self-assurance. “Lead on.”
The rest of the team followed, picking up their trays and carrying them to the cleanup area. Ford reached down to save his hard-won brownie and discovered it missing. He jerked his head up just in time to see Rodney pop the last bite into his mouth.
“Hey!”
“Don’t disparage a man’s national symbols or his coffee habits, Lieutenant.” The astrophysicist’s voice was entirely unapologetic.
John tried not to crack a grin at Ford’s crestfallen look. This version of ‘normal’ felt a little forced. Still, it was a start.
The computer screen stared at her, blank faced and accusing, until Dr Elizabeth Weir gave in and leaned back in her desk chair, massaging her temples. The gritty sensation behind her eyes warned her that she might be coming down with something. She told herself that it was probably just stress brought on by recent events. Nevertheless, she made a mental note to have one of the engineering teams analyze the city’s biohazard containment capabilities. While they’d brought HAZMAT gear with them, it would be good to know what facilities the Ancients might have installed in the city. One never knew what new pathogens lurked in this galaxy.
That small seed of data fell into a jumbled pile with all the others she’d collected over the past months. Precious few were finding an appropriate place to take root. There was so much to be done, so much to be learned. It was far more than they could possibly grasp in a lifetime—even if they weren’t stumbling into adversaries every other day. What had begun as an expedition to the lost city of Atlantis had almost immediately turned into a continuous battle for survival; against man, beast and nature, often simultaneously.
Had she honestly expected any less? When SG-1 had first stepped through the Stargate years earlier, they had opened the proverbial Pandora’s Box. That Atlantis was presenting similarly daunting challenges should have come as no surprise.
During her brief tenure as head of Stargate Command back on Earth, Elizabeth had learned that some enemies were, as Daniel Jackson had pointed out, pure evil. The Wraith might or might not be evil, but they assuredly were vicious predators to whom humans were nothing more than food. How was a person bred for diplomacy meant to face an opponent with whom there could be no negotiation?
A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts. Probably just as well, despite the fact that she hadn’t yet managed to write word one of her report on the events of the past week. “Yes?” She looked up, an expectant smile firmly, if artificially, tacked in place, to see the tousled dark hair of Major John Sheppard.
“Hey.” His smile was cautious, not quite reaching his eyes. “You busy?”
“No! No. Come in, John.” She stood and walked around to the front of the desk. “Actually, you’re just who I wanted to see. It occurred to me that I never thanked you for taking down Kolya. I’ve never had my life saved quite so…directly before.”
The Major seemed to shrug off her gratitude. “Had to make sure I didn’t get stuck with all your paperwork.” He eased into the room and the glass door slid shut behind him. “How’re you doing?”
His gaze remained guarded, betraying the weight of the obviously loaded question. Elizabeth didn’t take offense at his concern. During her years negotiating peace agreements, she had encountered more than her fair share of moral lepers, people who regarded the lives of others with no more compassion than she gave to the contents of a trashcan. She’d seen that same look in Kolya’s eyes, heard that same tone in his voice when he’d held her and Rodney captive. Before, though, she had always seen such things from a distance. With Kolya, she’d been close enough to feel the coldness.
Gesturing for the Major to take a seat, she leaned back against the desk. “I just wish it could have gone another way.”
“Listen—”
“I know!” She held up her hand. “I know that the Genii attacked us first. I know they’ve been deceptive from the start. It’s just that they’re not Wraith. They’re human, and the Wraith are far greater enemies—to both of us. It’s such a waste for us to be fighting one another.”
“Is that how you think it works?” John asked with a humorless chuckle. “In your experience, have people ever been all that great at setting aside their differences and working together in the face of a common foe?”
Taken aback by his uncharacteristically acerbic tone, Elizabeth examined John more carefully. She’d wanted him on this expedition because he carried the Ancient Technology Activation gene, and more significantly, used it without any apparent effort. Just as importantly, he’d enjoyed working with the highly individualistic people in the confined and hostile environment of McMurdo Station. Military background notwithstanding, Major John Sheppard had proven to be a surprisingly good diplomat; perhaps better than any of them, herself included. If anything, he’d seemed almost too trusting, too friendly—until they’d encountered the Genii.
The surgical precision with which he’d systematically taken out each of the attacking Genii, the way he’d aimed at Kolya and fired without a second thought… She could still feel the hot whine of the bullet as it sped past her ear. Her very next memory was of him offering her a hand and asking her if she was okay. With sudden insight, Elizabeth realized that, despite his professionalism, what set John Sheppard apart from men like Kolya was the way he reacted to killing.
Wondering if he himself could see that distinction, she said, “I’m trying to tell myself that we can’t hold ourselves responsible for the Genii’s actions. It was their choice to see us as an enemy. Likewise, if you’re still rethinking your decision to close the shield, please don’t. Yes, a lot of their soldiers died, but you and I both know what they were coming here to do.”
He cast a sharp glance in her direction, but a knock at the door cut the metaphorical thread. Peter Grodin was looking through the glass panel. She considered asking him to wait, but his excitement was obvious. Opening the door, Elizabeth stood back for him to enter. “Yes, Peter?”
“Dr Weir!” he declared. “I think I’ve found one.” Peter’s eyes darted to Sheppard. “Sorry, Major. Am I interrupting?”
“One what?” said John, standing.
Feeling a surge of anticipation, Elizabeth replied, “I asked Peter to work backward through the database, to locate the worlds most recently visited by the Ancients before the city was placed under siege.”
“Before they accepted the possibility that the Wraith might defeat them?” John’s interest was obviously tweaked.
“Of course they could still have visited those worlds via the Stargate, even after Atlantis had been submerged,” Peter explained as they left the office and crossed the walkway to the control room. “We assumed that, by then, they would have been concentrating their resources on defending Atlantis. If the Ancients were forced to abandon outlying worlds in a hurry, they might have left a ZPM behind, one that’s only ten to fifteen thousand years old. Which is exactly what appears to have happened with P3Y-986. Here, come and have a look.”
Peter moved in front of th
e large flat-screen monitor mounted on a panel behind the DHD, and tapped the screen. “The Ancient database indicates that the Stargate is in orbit around the planet.”
“We still don’t know why they placed certain ‘gates in orbit,” said Elizabeth.
“Quarantine?” The Major’s brow creased, and he rubbed the side of his neck where the iratus bug had been attached. “Having a ‘gate in orbit would’ve restricted travel to space ships.”
“That’s a reasonable assumption.” Elizabeth nodded. “We can send a MALP through. That would tell us for certain.”
“Why don’t I just take a puddle jumper? We can’t afford to keep losing MALPs.”
“I agree with that,” Elizabeth said, looking at him. “But we can less afford to lose you if there’s a Wraith ship—or worse—waiting on the other side.”
“Fair enough,” he said slowly, his smile suggesting a compromise. “How about we get the puddle jumper ready, then send a MALP through ahead of it? If it looks okay, we go, recover the MALP and—”
“How can anyone be so stupid?” demanded a loud, familiar voice.
Elizabeth’s enthusiasm was tempered by resigned amusement—which quickly turned to distaste. Leading a delegation of three extremely angry people in her direction was Dr Rodney McKay. At least, it was someone who walked and sounded like him, but it was hard to be certain because he was—
“Having a crappy day, Rodney?” John quipped, keeping his distance but looking remarkably cheerful.
The sight and smell of raw sewage wasn’t new to Elizabeth; she’d spent plenty of time in dirt-poor villagers in third world countries. But seeing Rodney literally covered in effluent, stomping across the pristine floor of the control room, was so bizarre that she had to stop herself from laughing.
“Oh, yes, biohazards are a laugh riot, aren’t they?” When it came to sarcasm, Rodney existed on a wholly separate level from anyone else she’d ever known.
“Well, it was your suggestion to try it!” declared one of the equally filthy people accompanying him.
“You could have at least warned me!”
The argument gained volume. From what Elizabeth could make out, it sounded like some sort of explosion was involved, but beyond that, the details seemed to be in the eye of the beholder. “All right, everyone. Calm down,” she called. “Now, is anyone hurt?”
“Calm down!” Rodney spluttered. “Calm down? It’s not enough that I’m probably going to catch pneumonia because some lunatic forced me to work outside in the middle of a hurricane. Do you have any idea of the number of pathogens that inhabit a septic tank? If just one of the billions, billons, of bacteria gets inside this cut—” He pointed to his arm. “Rampant septicemia. That’s it,” he added conclusively. “I’m gone!”
“Why don’t you go get cleaned up and have Carson check you over before we discuss what happened?” Elizabeth suggested.
Rodney’s expression managed to turn haughty, quite a feat considering the brown sludge on his face. “Because I wanted you to see with your own eyes—”
“Okay, Rodney,” she replied in a well-practiced pacifying tone. “I can see.”
“And smell,” John added, ever helpful.
Behind them, half a dozen people snickered. Elizabeth did her level best to ignore them. “Now, was anyone else…injured in this explosion?”
“No, but that’s beside the point. This is just one more example of—”
“Ah!” Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and motioned in the direction of the living quarters.
The arguing group, still led by Rodney, made its way out of the control room, although the noisome smell lingered.
“Well, that ought to make him the butt of a few more jokes,” John said.
The sniggers in the control room were louder. Elizabeth shot him a reproachful look. “Try not to aggravate him too much, Major. He’s been through a lot lately. We all have.”
The Major’s expression conceded the point. Turning his attention back to the screen, he gestured toward the symbols on the display. “So, you want us to go take a look?”
“Why don’t you wait until tomorrow morning? That’ll give Rodney time to get cleaned up and calmed down.” At the Major’s look of uncertainty, she added, “Do you have a problem with that?”
“No. McKay can be a pain in the ass—and no, I didn’t mean that as a joke—but he’s got his uses.”
Unless she was mistaken, John Sheppard was beginning to like the scientist. “All right. In the meantime, I’ll go talk to Rodney, find out what happened.”
“The cut is healing well, and it’s clean.” Carson Beckett, the biologist and chief physician of the expedition, pulled his gloves off. “No sign of infection.”
“Regardless, I’m absolutely certain that I’m coming down with the flu.” Rodney sniffed theatrically and looked around the rooms that had become the research laboratory and infirmary.
“I very much doubt that,” Carson said, giving Elizabeth a long-suffering glance. “Every member of the Atlantis expedition underwent a thorough medical examination before stepping through the Stargate. You can’t catch a cold from thin air. It’s probably one of your many allergies. I’ll give you an antihistamine.”
“Now, Rodney,” Elizabeth asked. “What happened?”
Rolling down the sleeve of his jacket, Rodney exhaled loudly before launching into a tirade. “Most of Atlantis’s systems are either self-regulating or can be operated with the push of a button. Once the Wraith became a serious threat, the Ancients apparently employed gene recognition technology to protect crucial systems like weapons and life-support. So, only those with the ATA gene, or in my case, where the gene therapy has been successful, can access critical life-support operations.”
No doubt he assumed that the conclusion he’d drawn from that to be obvious, but it took Elizabeth a moment before she could even hazard a guess at it. “Are you suggesting that not everyone should be given the gene therapy in case they inadvertently trigger something dangerous?” That didn’t feel quite right. Rodney was an intellectual elitist, but he had limits.
“That is in fact the polar opposite of what I’m suggesting,” Rodney declared, rearing up off the stool in order to pace the room. “Every time somebody wants an Ancient device activated, or a secure door opened, they come running to me, as if I had nothing better to do with my time. If everyone had the gene therapy, they could open the damned doors themselves. Life-support isn’t as crucial as it was when the city was hundreds of feet underwater.”
As usual, his theory made a good amount of sense. Turning to Carson, Elizabeth asked, “How’s the research on the gene therapy coming?”
The doctor gave a small shrug. “From what I can tell so far, it’s going to be effective in a little less than half of everyone who receives it. And we’re still not entirely certain of the long term risks.”
“All right, then,” Elizabeth replied. “We’ll work out a roster system so that those with the ATA gene, natural or otherwise, only need make themselves available for a few hours each week. Think of it as being on call.”
“How’s that going to help if someone decides to wait until it’s my turn to, oh, I don’t know, open a trapdoor into a recycling plant?” Rodney turned to Carson. “Isn’t there something you can do to make the gene therapy more effective? Rain dances? Sacrifices to the DNA gods?”
“I’m working on a way to efficiently produce large quantities of the vaccine, Rodney, but you can’t rush these things.” Carson’s frustration with him was evident.
Exchanging a look with the beleaguered doctor, Elizabeth eased toward the door. “Rodney, Major Sheppard is taking a team to P3Y-986 in the morning.”
“If this is another trade delegation—”
“We think it might have at a ZPM. A more recent one.”
Rodney suddenly looked interested. “As I was saying, excellent idea.”
“And Major Sheppard made a point of asking if you’d be ready to participate.” Close enough to th
e truth, she reasoned.
“He did?” A surprised smile appeared on Rodney’s face, masked quickly by confidence. “Well, of course he did. Leaving aside my myriad talents, he’s no doubt assumed—correctly, I might add—that he’s got some work to do to get back on my good side, what with the mocking and all.”
“Just check in with Peter after you’re finished here, and we’ll get started on the pre-mission planning.” Elizabeth ran a hand across the back of her neck as she exited the infirmary. The day’s events had already left her drained. Maybe Carson was right about the flu, but she definitely felt like she was coming down with something.
CHAPTER TWO
Lieutenant Aiden Ford studied the planet looming above the jumper’ s windscreen. Almost three quarters of the blue-green world was in daylight, while the rest was blanketed by a nighttime shadow. Odd angle notwithstanding, he had to admit that P3Y-something-or-other looked pretty from several thousand miles out. Sort of like Earth, except that there was just one landmass.
“Would it be too much to ask if you could keep us upright?” McKay griped.
“We’re in space,” Major Sheppard replied, maneuvering the jumper behind the MALP with careful precision. “There’s no such thing as ‘upright’. You’re gonna have to get used to that if you want to learn to fly one of these things outside an atmosphere.” He allowed the probe to touch the sloped face of the jumper with just enough force to halt its forward momentum. “Okay, dial her up.”
The vortex shot out of the orbiting Stargate then snapped reassuringly back into place. “Atlantis, Jumper One,” McKay called. “Ready to receive the MALP?”
“Go ahead, Jumper One.”
Aiden watched his commanding officer make just the tiniest motion with his hand. The jumper came to a stop, while the MALP continued through the rippling blue event horizon at a slight angle relative to their point of entry.
“MALP received. Good luck, Jumper One.” With that send-off, the event horizon vanished.
Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen (Stargate Atlantis) Page 2
