STARGATE SG-1 ATLANTIS: Homeworlds : Volume three of the Travelers' Tales (SGX Book 5)

by Sally Malcolm

  “I found the control console. It was clear it had something to do with the Oracle. It took me years to figure out how to reactivate it. Once I did, I used it to tell everyone that the Ancestors were pleased with us, and wanted to give us the gift of new technology.” She snorted. “Sigurd ate it up. He’s always wanted to hear that he’s wise and good, and this proved it.”

  “You also told the Oracle that we should be locked up and put on trial for our lives,” Rodney pointed out, feeling his sympathy abate as he was reminded of that point.

  “I didn’t have any other choice,” Emille said, with the first hint of remorse he’d seen in her expression. “Sigurd wouldn’t have believed it if the Oracle had told him to ignore your disrespect. But I wouldn’t have let them sentence you to death. The Oracle would have called for him to show you mercy by exiling you instead.”

  “You have taken a great many decisions into your own hands,” Teyla said.

  “Those were the only hands I had.” Emille raised her chin. “And I’m not a bit sorry. Having electrical power has done so much for our people, and there’s so much more that we’re on the verge of being able to do next. Whatever you want to do to me — do it. But don’t tell Sigurd that everything we’ve accomplished in the last few years is worthless because I lied.”

  “If I were you, I should be more concerned about the fate of my people than about my own reputation,” Teyla said.

  “That is what I am concerned about. I don’t want them to stop making progress.”

  “This kind of progress is going to bring down the Wraith,” Ronon said.

  “Ronon is right,” Teyla said. “His own homeworld was destroyed by the Wraith because they had made very similar technological advances. My own world has deliberately chosen not to embrace the technologies of our ancestors in hopes of preventing our complete destruction.”

  “Is this true?”

  Ronon nodded shortly. “They bombed Sateda. Everybody died.”

  “But that wouldn’t happen here,” Emille said. “Surely it wouldn’t.” She looked at Rodney, and he hesitated, reluctant to give her the only answer he had.

  “If you continue to develop electrical power, you’re eventually going to attract the attention of the Wraith,” he said heavily. “That’s going to happen exponentially faster if you use radio, because you’ll be sending signals that can travel into space. All those inventions you’re thinking about right now — every one of them comes at the cost of making it more likely that your people are going to be attacked by the Wraith.”

  Emille was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her tone was bleak. “Then that’s my choice?” she said. “Give up my life’s work, or risk the lives of all my friends?”

  “How about door number three,” John said. “Tell them the danger, and let them decide. You’ve made your people’s choices for them for long enough.”

  “Sigurd will not believe your warning,” Emille said. “He truly believes the Ancestors speak through the Oracle, and he is immensely proud to have been chosen by the Ancestors to receive their favor. If you persuade him that I have lied, it will still not convince him that you are telling the truth about the Wraith. He will turn his anger and his shame at being tricked against you, and you will be lucky to leave this world alive.”

  “There’s one way he’d believe it,” John said. “If it comes from the Oracle.”

  Emille stared at him, and then breathed a laugh. “That’s true.”

  “Warn your people through the Oracle that maintaining your current pace of technological advancement will attract the attention of the Wraith,” Teyla said. “That will make the lack of any new revelations from the Oracle a sign of the Ancestors’ care for your people, rather than their disfavor.”

  “That’s still a lot of lying,” Ronon said.

  Teyla inclined her head to show that she accepted his point. “And yet it may be the most effective way to convey one very important truth.”

  “It would be a solution that would buy you some time,” John said. “We’re trying to fight the Wraith. We like to think we might be able to win, one of these days.”

  “But even if that is not possible, it would give your people time enough to make decisions,” Teyla said. “They must agree upon some strategy for dealing with the Wraith: to limit technological growth in an attempt to escape their notice, or to plan to flee from them when they come, or to find some means of fighting back?”

  Emille still looked bleak. “Do any of those things work?”

  Ronon shrugged. “Better than not doing anything at all.”

  “I’m sorry to be inhospitable,” Sigurd said, releasing John and Rodney from their cell. John shot Rodney a repressing look as Rodney opened his mouth to express his feelings about their captivity, and he settled for scowling instead. “I see now that the Ancestors sent you to warn us about the Wraith. It is not your fault that you did not fully understand their message.”

  “I am glad that you appreciate the threat of the Wraith to your world,” Teyla said. “We hope that they will stay far away from you for as long as possible.”

  “So do we,” Vasti said. He looked dejected. “Which means that we have to stop work, at least for now. There’s still a lot of maintenance to be done, of course. And maybe we could make some minor improvements …” He trailed off at Sigurd’s expression. “Maybe in time,” he said, raising his chin.

  “Let’s hope so,” John said.

  Emille hadn’t come out to say goodbye to them. Rodney tried to imagine his own feelings at being told to shut down all his research for the good of the expedition, and figured that she wasn’t in the mood to face anyone at the moment. He wouldn’t have known what to say to her, anyway. The choices the Wraith forced on worlds were nightmarish, and the worst part was knowing that even if these people played it safe, they might still wake up one morning to the whine of Wraith darts filling the air.

  It was a quiet walk back to the Stargate. Lorne and the backup team had already left, and Ronon and Teyla had little to say, both of them probably absorbed in thinking about the Wraith and the way their own people had tried to deal with them.

  “We’re going to find some way to stop the Wraith,” John said.

  “Of course we will,” Rodney said.

  The silence drew out again.

  “No, I mean we really will,” John said.

  Ahead of them, Ronon shrugged. “Or die trying.”

  “I’d like to win instead of die trying.”

  “So would I,” Rodney said. “So we’re going to figure this out, and we’re going to find a way to stop the Wraith, and we’re going to do it soon — because we’d better do it soon — so we will.”

  “That is a more than usually optimistic prediction, coming from you,” Teyla said.

  “Maybe my recent brush with enlightenment was enlightening, I don’t know. Besides, I came on a one-way trip to another galaxy with no proof that we could even survive here, let alone get home,” Rodney said. “You don’t think I’m an optimist?”

  “I think it would have killed you not to know what was here,” John said.

  “You’re right. I had to find out what was here. Just like these people had to find out what they could do with electricity. Sooner or later, they’re going to keep trying.”

  “So we’ll find a way to make it safe for them,” John said. “We’ll keep trying.”

  “Until we win,” Rodney said, and kept hiking toward the Stargate.

  Stargate SG-1

  Sweet Herbs and Freedom

  Suzanne Wood

  This story takes place in season two of Stargate: SG-1, after the episode Prisoners.

  She stood beneath a sky dark with imminent rain. The air she breathed in, that first deep breath of freedom, was so moist she almost drank it. Static cha
rges from the wormhole behind her prickled her skin and sent strands of hair frizzing in all directions. Exhale. Second breath, as good as the first. No people in sight. Flocks of avian creatures wheeled through the air, quick as thought they dove into the cover of thick forest surrounding the dais where she stood. Thunder cracked overhead. In the distance rain fell in sheets, rapidly working its way toward her.

  The dull green garments she wore offered little protection from such a drenching. No need to walk into unattractive weather. The Tau’ri machines had revealed so many new worlds for her use; there were so many opportunities awaiting her. She walked down the steps, into the first hard drops of rain. The dialing device sat dumbly at the foot of the Great Circle, no, “Stargate” was what they had called it. A nice name. The symbols shone brightly golden in the gloom. Six for an address and one for the planet on which she stood — a simple matter of identifying the sole unique one — just as described in the Tau’ri’s records.

  A solid clunk and the Stargate connected to the galaxy with a sharp tang of ozone and steam. Linea smiled, and walked on to find her next world to conquer.

  “We have to at least try!”

  General George Hammond sent a quelling look down the length of the briefing room table at Daniel Jackson. Internally he smiled, glad to have the passionate doctor, and the rest of SG-1, back from their incarceration on Hadante.

  “Do we have any idea where Linea may have gone?” he asked, turning his gaze to Jack O’Neill.

  Jack slouched in his chair, to all appearances at ease and unconcerned, but Hammond knew better. Just a couple of days ago SG-1 had been incarcerated for the term of their natural lives in an underground prison, for the crime of giving aid to a stranger. While Hammond and SG-9 were attempting to barter a release for their people, his premier team had engineered an escape with the help of a nice, older lady also ‘unfairly’ imprisoned. A nice, older lady who happened to be a homicidal maniac. A nice, older homicidal maniac who had stolen a number of planetary addresses from their own database and was now roaming free with who-knew-what intentions.

  Jack twitched his gaze from Hammond to Captain Carter and nodded at her.

  “Sir, we’ve analyzed the files that Linea accessed and it seems she was most interested in the addresses in the pending mission allocation.” Carter slid a folder across the table to him. Inside sat a neatly typed list of ten planetary addresses and their Stargate glyphs. “Daniel found the notepad Linea must have used to copy these addresses on to.” She held up a notepad with the impression of writing showing through pencil shadings.

  “Makes sense, with so many addresses in our database, she went for the ones that we’ve already done a preliminary scan on,” O’Neill said.

  Carter squirmed in her seat. “Which I had shown her, sir. Sorry.”

  “Not your fault, Captain. No one was to know who she truly was until our unexpected traveler showed up.”

  Teal’c spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the gloomy thoughts in the room. “Daniel Jackson is correct, General Hammond. We must endeavor to track Linea and ensure she is no threat to the people of those worlds.”

  Hammond took a careful look at his premier team. Their last mission had been trying but nobody had been injured and allowing them a chance to right this particular wrong would be a beneficial boost to morale. And despite what the Joint Chiefs might have to say, they did have a certain obligation to the unknown civilians out in the wider galaxy.

  “Very well.”

  A relieved sigh came from Daniel and the captain. Teal’c nodded his pleasure, Jack grimaced and sat up straight.

  “You have a go for a brief recon of each of these planets. This is not a full-out exploratory mission, just go in, check them out, question anyone near to the Stargate if they’ve seen Linea, and if not, move on to the next as soon as possible. Dismissed.”

  This was what she was looking for. This world would provide what she needed.

  Five journeys through the Stargate. Worlds of such difference she had never imagined. Two inhabited, but by base, inarticulate people that would not serve her requirements. Beautiful worlds indeed; after living underground for so long the temptation was there to linger, lift her face to warm sun and fill her lungs with fresh air, but it was not her nature to walk through fields of flowers or dally when there was work to do.

  Linea stepped down from the stone dais. The Stargate closed down with that strange sucking sound it made. The dais stood at the far end of a marketplace, which was surrounded by white painted stone houses with red roofs. Beyond the buildings towered high mountains, so steep-sided few trees clung to them. And on the far side of the town lay a lake of deep blue water: its still surface presented a perfect mirror image of the town and mountain above it.

  In the market, men and women moved busily through stalls of food and goods. Small children darted around adults, intent in their play. Youths hauled bales and boxes, helping their parents in their daily work. Here and there pairs of males walked, wearing similar garb that could be a uniform. Few folk looked her way, but a pair of the uniformed ones approached.

  “State your business, woman,” one said, his tone neither friendly nor unfriendly.

  “I am a travelling healer. I come to offer my knowledge to those who are in need.” She smiled that smile that had opened doors in many places.

  The man rested his long staff on the ground and looked her over carefully. “Healers are always required, that is true. What god do you serve?”

  “I bear no allegiance to any god, nor do I bear animosity to any god. I simply heal the sick.” He must refer to the gods of which Daniel and Samantha spoke.

  “Very well, then.” With a nod of agreement from his partner, the man moved aside. “You may go.”

  “My thanks. Please tell your people to seek me should they need my services.” Her false smile pleased them and she walked off through the marketplace.

  The people here were intelligent and industrious, not as advanced as her home world, but enough to support her plans. They wore robes and dresses with varying degrees of adornment. Some sported elaborate headdresses, the males in uniform all bore weapons on their belts and those long staffs that she suspected were also a weapon. She wove through the crowd, conscious that the drab green garments supplied by Samantha were out of place here. Her old garments were gone, discarded in the room they had given her. But in her pockets were a number of valuables, small precious things she had made sure to take with her in the escape from Hadante.

  She stopped at a stall selling women’s clothing. A deep red dress caught her eye and the seller was quick to accept a bright vasus gem in payment.

  “My thanks, lady.” She tucked the bundle of cloth under her arm. “I seek a place to live and conduct my work — I am a healer. Do you know of any home that would be available?”

  “A healer? What a fine thing. We’ve needed a healer since old Engles passed on many months ago, and not everyone is comfortable seeking the help of the priestesses in the temple.” The woman indicated with a chuck of her head to a turreted building halfway up the mountain slope. “My friend’s cousin’s son has an empty house. His mother passed on a year ago now and he’d be grateful of the rent money, that’s for sure, gambling all night in the garrison the way he does. Come along, I’ll find him for you. Sanach is my name,” she added as she swept her goods off the stall table and pocketed a clinking purse.

  “I am Linea.” She followed Sanach through the stalls, noting other goods that would be useful for her work: pots for mixing; beakers for pouring; plants that would offer useful properties; compounds and herbs…yes, all would be useful.

  SG-1 shipped out at 1037 precisely. They travelled light for this mission: backpacks only and one MALP to scout ahead. Hammond had agreed that cost to the SGC would be lower if they moved directly from one planet to the next on the list
that Linea had purloined, instead of gating back home and then out again. There was no guarantee that she would dial the first on the list but, Jack being the methodical man he was, decided to start at the top. Their first destination was P2K-589, which Technician Davis had cheerily assured them was a nice-looking forest area, before giving them the go-ahead.

  Trees. Jack resisted the urge to voice his comment. “Okay, kids, quick recce for civili —”

  Boom. The skies above crashed with thunder like the crack of doom, followed instantly by a spear of lightning that split in two a giant tree not twenty feet from them. Daniel started badly and bumped into Carter, both of them wildly looking around. Teal’c reached out a steadying hand, looking a little perturbed himself. As half the tree toppled in slow majesty, rain hit them like a million little sledge hammers, straight down on their heads with merciless weight. Jack was past his team like a shot, straight to the DHD. There was no discussion — not that any of them could be heard above the roar of the rain and the crash of timber. Carter saw his intent, grabbed the MALP control and turned the machine to face the Stargate.

  Jack slapped the glyphs as fast as he could, shoulders hunched around his ears in trepidation of another lightning strike. Already, water was flooding across the clearing. The wormhole billowed out in a cloud of steam. The MALP rolled through and vanished. Jack bolted up the steps, hardly waiting for Carter to give the thumbs up before shoving his team into the event horizon and throwing himself after them.