STARGATE ATLANTIS: Dead End

by Chris Wraight

  Teyla felt a sudden pang of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. There was something odd about Miruva. The diffident, sweet girl she had known in the settlement seemed to have been replaced by a cold, assured woman. Was she somehow in league with the Banshees? Was she being controlled by them?

  Miruva laughed, and the fantasy was extinguished. Her smile was the same, her demeanor was the same. The effects of the Banshee attack had clearly confused Teyla’s senses.

  “I don’t know how it happens,” said Miruva, sounding delighted nonetheless. “It’s as if they have a link to my mind. I tell them to do something, and they do it.”

  Teyla pulled herself to her feet, and tried to regain something of her dignity. Whatever was going on here was very strange.

  “Can you make them depart?” she said, eyeing the hovering, silent Banshee.

  Miruva frowned.

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “It’s not so much that I can command them, like you would a child, but more like they know what I want and act on it. They seem almost an extension of my thoughts. Like my thoughts made real. I can’t really explain it.”

  Colonel Sheppard had once said similar things about flying Ancient vessels, as if the machinery became an extension of his mind. Slowly, the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

  “You have the means to the control the technology of the Ancestors,” said Teyla. “We call this the ATA gene. Many of our number have it, though not all.”

  “Perhaps,” she said. “I can hardly believe it. After so many years living in fear of these creatures, they seem like nothing more than nightmares that have faded with the morning.”

  Teyla frowned. “The fear was real,” she said. “I do not normally run from battle, but I had no choice. How was this effect created?” She looked at the flickering shape intently. The Banshee’s eyes followed her, but it made no move towards her. “Miruva, can you instruct it to talk?”

  Miruva’s face became a mask of concentration. After a few moments, the halo of energy surrounding the Banshee flickered and became brighter. It looked down at Teyla, still expressionless, and its mouth began to move.

  “Full-power protocol established,” came a tinny voice from the ethereal presence. “Thirty-seven minutes remaining until power-down.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “The Banshee has been saving its energy,” said Miruva. “It’s terrified of losing power. In my head I can hear it saying the same thing over and over again: ‘Must maintain power’.”

  “Miruva,” said Teyla. “How can you know of these things? Your people work with simple tools: fire, rock and fur. You are talking as if you understand how this device works. If I did not know better, I would even say that you sound like Doctor McKay.”

  “I do understand,” said Miruva. “Somehow, I can feel what this thing needs, what it wants. I have the words for it — or at least some of them. It’s as if I was born for this.”

  Teyla felt completely out of her depth. Ancient technology was not her specialty, but in the absence of Doctor McKay she would just have to do her best to unravel things, one step at a time. She looked back at the Banshee.

  “Who are you?” she said, in as commanding a voice as she could muster.

  The Banshee looked over at Miruva, who nodded to give her assent.

  “I am EX-567, an avatar of my creator, Telion,” came the thin, rasping voice. “We are the guardians of the Sanctuary. We carry out the great work.”

  “Why are you persecuting the Forgotten?”

  “We carry out the great work. There is no power. The protocols are minimal.”

  “I’m not sure I understand this,” said Teyla, looking to Miruva for support.

  “There’s something there,” Miruva said, frowning. “It’s as if I can see inside the mind of this thing. Its thoughts are arranged like sheaves of grass in the drying chambers.”

  “You have the gene. Perhaps you can see more clearly than any others what is going on here. Can you do anything to access those… sheaves?”

  Miruva closed her eyes. “I’m inside its mind… It’s so strange. It’s as if ‘I’ and ‘it’ are one person. But I still retain myself. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

  Teyla stepped back, unwilling to interfere with the process. She was as content as she ever would be that Miruva was safe and knew what she was doing. There had to be way of getting at the answers and if anything was capable of transporting them back to where they’d come from, it was the Banshee.

  “I’ve got something,” said Miruva, her eyes still closed. “There is a key, just like the sign we used to get in here. I think it’s some kind of sequence. Shall I access it?”

  “Yes, please do,” said Teyla. This sounded promising.

  A few moments passed and nothing happened. Miruva opened her eyes and came to stand by Teyla.

  “I’ve asked it to speak to us,” she said, calmly. “We must listen. I think this will give us the answers we’re looking for.”

  Sheppard was pleased. About as pleased as he had been since arriving on Khost. The day was waning, but there was still time. Now he had a target, something to aim for, he could get stuck in. It was the waiting around that killed him.

  Helmar had rounded up about fifty young men. They were keen, most looked pretty competent, too. Within moments of getting agreement to go, they had rounded up a fearsome array of mining equipment. Axes, hammers, twine-wound rope, material for making fire, it was all there. Helmar’s words had kindled their enthusiasm; they had listened to the cautionary words of their leaders for too long. Now their time had come.

  They had assembled in one the large chambers near the settlement’s entrance, together with McKay. All of them looked at Sheppard expectantly.

  “OK, guys,” he said. “We’re gonna have to work fast. The site isn’t far away — we can get there quickly. But there’s a storm coming, and it’s a beast. We’ve only got one chance at this, so let’s get it right.”

  He paused for a moment, thinking of Teyla. He didn’t like to imagine her trapped so far under the ice. He hoped to God things weren’t too desperate down there.

  “You’ve all got family who’ve been taken by these critters,” he continued. “One of my team was taken too. It’s time to take them back. I’m relying on you. All of you. Let’s get this done.”

  Helmar began to stomp his feet on the rock floor. The others followed suit. Clearly, that was how they showed appreciation round here. The men started to tramp off toward the front gate of the settlement.

  “And what exactly do you want me to do while you’re off on this expedition?” said McKay to Sheppard. His face looked sour — he was getting fed up with being left behind.

  “How close are you to fixing the Jumper?”

  “It’s not a simple operation…”

  “How close, Rodney?”

  McKay gave an exasperated sigh. “Three, maybe four hours.”

  “Well, that’s just perfect,” said Sheppard. “We’ll be there and back before you know it.”

  “Why do I find it so hard to believe you when you say that?”

  Sheppard shrugged. “You should learn to be more trusting.”

  He gave McKay a reassuring cuff on the shoulder, then joined the hunters. They’d started singing. The words were barely comprehensible, but it was clear they were keyed up for the task ahead.

  Sheppard liked the men’s spirit. He hoped they could keep it up. If they were going to recover Teyla and the others in time, they’d need every ounce of it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Banshee looked briefly at both Teyla and Miruva, then promptly disappeared. The lights in the room dimmed and a holographic representation of a solar system swirled into view in the space before them. A voice, full and warm, emanated from the air around them.

  “If you are listening to this message,” it said, “then you have accessed the databanks of my Avatar. I cannot know how many years have passed, nor the stat
us of our experiment on Caliost, but it gives me comfort to believe that one day these words will be heard by another.”

  Miruva listened, her eyes shining with wonder; the voice of the Ancestors. Teyla was transfixed as well, the recording was at least 10,000 years old and, as ever where the ways of the Ancients were concerned, she felt a quiver of awe.

  “The days grow dark,” continued the voice. “Though it saddens my soul, we have to leave. The Wraith are despoiling everything and all resources are being pulled back to the City. The only small victory we have achieved is keeping Caliost safe from their predations. My hope is that the planet is so far away, and that the Stargate node is so remote, that they will never find it. The thought of those monsters being let loose on the Inhabitants is too horrendous to contemplate.”

  “I guess that means you,” said Teyla to Miruva. “Or your ancestors, at least.”

  “The dreams of founding a refuge for my people are over,” said the voice. “There is not the time to perfect the drive technology, nor to establish the defenses here. We must place our hope in the City, and trust that it will prove strong enough. If it does not, then this place may well endure when all else has been destroyed. As you have demonstrated your kinship with us through the use of the gene, you must know more of what we intended here.”

  “Here it comes,” said Miruva, listening intently.

  “My dream was two-fold,” the voice went on. “First, to extend the range of our Stargate-capable vessels so that we could travel further than ever before. In this I hoped to find a way to escape the Wraith while leaving a route back should we recover our strength. Second, I wished to make Caliost a hidden bastion against their expansion. The planet has everything we could need: it is temperate, benign and abundant. The huge variety of plants and animals here would have been an excellent study for our scientists, as well as providing for our people. The Inhabitants would have lived alongside us, and we would have instructed them in the ways of our technology. In time, we would have existed as equals together, not as gods and servants. My dream was to make this a reality.”

  The solar system graphic began to speed up. Planets whirled around an orange sun faster and faster. Streams of data in a language Teyla couldn’t understand flickered past her eyes.

  “None of that will now come to pass,” said the voice. “All has been overtaken by the war. We must leave at once, and do what we can to safeguard the lives of those we leave behind. The time has been too short. We have done what we could. A Sanctuary has been established deep within the planet’s core, close to the Stargate and the temporary shelters. When the time is right, the Inhabitants will be evacuated there, where they may lead their lives free from the fear of the Wraith. All my knowledge has been placed there. When they are mature enough, they can tap this store and learn how to use the machines we have left behind. These are devices of enormous power, capable of molding and reshaping the continents themselves. As their power is so great, they may only be operated by one wielding the power of the gene. Even then, the Inhabitants will have to learn how to use them slowly.”

  The solar system graphic continued to speed up. Gradually, the color of some of the planets changed, and the sun became paler.

  “Why is this necessary?” said the voice. “Let me tell you. Our predictions show that Caliost will enter a giant dust cloud some nine-thousand years hence. Over the course of the following centuries, it will become slowly uninhabitable. The surface will be choked by ice and the rays of the sun will cease to penetrate the endless storms. Hence the need for the Sanctuary. The hidden place is powered from the core of the planet and will remain perfect for as long as any of us can foresee. Safe from both the ice and the Wraith, the Inhabitants can live out their lives in peace, until the day when they know enough of our technology to break free to the surface once more and escape the solar system altogether.”

  Miruva looked at Teyla. “So it’s all been planned.”

  “And this really is Sanctuary,” Teyla said. “None of which explains the Banshees, however.”

  The solar system graphic flicked off, to be replaced by a revolving schematic of the underground chambers. Teyla recognized the Hall of Arrivals and the various antechambers. Fully revealed, the size and complexity were astonishing. “Sadly, we could not complete the work in the time that remained to us,” continued the voice in its mournful way. “We have to leave now, or all will be lost. I have set the machines to run in my absence, overseen by the Avatars. It will take many thousands of years to seed the underground chambers properly and to make them perfect. When they are complete, the dust will come. Then will my Avatars summon the Inhabitants from their settlements on the planet surface and lead them to safety. This will be their great work.”

  The graphic was filled with visions of forests and streams within the massive chambers. Over time, tiny people appeared among them. It was a vision of plenty, just like its real-life counterpart in the chambers below them.

  “I can only hope that you who are listening to this are safely in the Sanctuary, and that the evidence of the great work is all around you. Though I will be long departed by the time you hear this, I wish you well.”

  The graphic shuddered and sheered away. The lights in the room rose again, and the Banshee flickered back into life. It hung as silently and eerily as before.

  For a moment, neither of them said anything. Then Teyla looked at Miruva.

  “The great work,” she said. “And we are in it.”

  “Okay, this is it.” Sheppard shoved the proximity meter back inside his furs. “Time to start digging, guys.”

  He stamped his feet. Once he stopped walking, his body temperature dropped alarmingly. The sun was sinking fast towards the horizon, and what little strength remained in its rays had gone. It was a risk, starting the dig this late in the day, but time was short.

  Helmar looked hard at the ice. There wasn’t much shelter, and nowhere obvious to begin work, but the young man looked untroubled.

  “If the weather holds,” he said, “we can make a start.” Helmar grinned under his mask, creasing the leather. “Get ready to be impressed, Colonel Sheppard. You haven’t seen how the Forgotten work yet.”

  He called out the others. Instantly, they began to unpack their equipment. Some unstrapped huge shovels from their backs. Under Helmar’s direction, they began to clear the top layers of snow. They were followed by a second team, heavily built by Forgotten standards, who hauled the broken ice and slush away. Others began to secure the growing hole in the ground with heavy mats of woven twine. Within moments, a gash in the ice appeared, and began to grow. The miners worked at it like ants around a honeypot.

  Helmar gave Sheppard a satisfied look. “They go quickly, once they’re roused.”

  “Yeah. I can see.”

  Sheppard gazed out at the horizon. The clouds on the horizon had drawn no closer, but he trusted Rodney’s prediction. The storm would come. “How much time do they need?”

  “We need to hit a crevasse,” replied Helmar. “If we have to delve through solid rock, it’ll take days, maybe weeks. But if we find a tunnel, we’ll be down to your friend in no time.”

  “Liking the sound of that,” said Sheppard. “But it’s not just my friend down there.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” said Helmar, reaching for a spare ice-ax. “We could do with another pair of hands. Have you ever used one of these?”

  Sheppard looked at the implement. It was heavy, the shaft wooden and the blade bone. He ran his finger along the edge. It was sharp, and more sturdy than he would have thought possible. These buffalos were amazing things.

  “Nope,” he said, hefting the blade in his hand and looking over the growing mine-head. “So why don’t you show me how it’s done?”

  Miruva looked up at the form hovering above her. “So these Banshees are the Avatars,” she said, looking up at EX-567 with a renewed appreciation. “They are the work of the Ancestors.”

  “So it seems,” said Teyla. �
�But why do they have such an aura of fear? If the Ancestors intended them to lead you to safety here, why do they sweep through the settlement and abduct you?”

  Miruva frowned and let her mind link with that of the Avatar again. “I do not fully understand,” said Miruva slowly, clearly working hard to decipher what the Avatar was telling her. “But one thing keeps being repeated — there is no power. The Avatars are frustrated. They wish to bring all of the Inhabitants to Sanctuary, but there’s not enough energy. Something has gone wrong.”

  Teyla pursed her lips, pondering the implications. “It is clear that the Banshees are malfunctioning. Their programming has been corrupted by a lack of power and their functions are distorted. Presumably, if it were otherwise, they could have explained Telion’s great work to your people and you would have come willingly to Sanctuary.”

  “Yes,” she said, thoughtfully. “It’s a strange idea — our mortal enemies being our one means for salvation. Should we get out of here, I’ll have trouble making anyone believe it.”

  The Banshee hung before them, as implacable as ever. It seemed perfectly oblivious to their discussion.

  “Can you instruct the Banshee to teleport us back to the surface?” said Teyla. “While it’s good to know that Sanctuary exists for your people, I am not one of them. I need to get back to my team.”

  Miruva shook her head. “I am sorry,” she said. “The Banshee won’t do it. It uses up all their power and they’re worried about where more will come from.”

  Teyla felt her heart sink. “That is unwelcome news. Is there no way back to the surface?”

  Miruva sank back into her trance-like state.

  “There were access tunnels to the surface once,” she said at length. “Perhaps the Avatars waited too long to begin their mission, and the tunnels were filled with ice. That would explain why they have to teleport our people in small groups. There is no power for anything more.”

  “That sounds plausible, but it does not help find a way out.”