STARGATE ATLANTIS: The Wild Blue (SGX-05)

by Melissa Scott

  In the end, it took all of them to lever away the two big chunks of railroad tie, and heave the stone inward into the tunnel ahead of them. Ronon winced at the noise, but nothing stirred, and after a minute he nodded to Pin. “Ok.”

  Pin returned the nod, and began very carefully to free the battery from the rocks around it. Once he had it clear, he moved it slowly away, careful to keep the wire taut, and set it on the ground away from the barrier. “I don’t think it’s rigged to give off a shock,” he said. “So that’s one good thing. But I’m worried that cutting it might close a deadman switch and set off the alarm.”

  “If it’s not electrified,” Tec began, and Ronon nodded.

  “Leave it. Their attention should be on Major Lorne up at the entrance.” With luck, he added silently, but there was no point in discouraging his people. “Let’s clear the rest of this, and then we can keep going.”

  ***

  The maps said they were well into the original part of the mine, and for the first time Ronon could see signs of recent occupation. They passed several chambers that were clearly being used as trash dumps, and it was obvious that the electrical cables that ran along the tunnel walls had been replaced since the mine was closed. There were footprints, too, not new, but certainly obvious, a scuffed path in the dust, and Ronon waved for the group to halt.

  “Ok,” he said, to Kos. “Where are we now?”

  She held out the folded paper, and Pin obligingly slanted a flashlight beam so that it illuminated only the paper. “We’re here, on the main level. This is what they used to call the Eastern Line. It runs into the Gallery, here — that’s where most of the smaller tunnels meet.”

  “They loaded the ore cars there,” Tec said. He glanced at the rails running down the center of the tunnel. “I don’t think they’re doing that now —”

  “But they might be using them further on,” Ronon said. If he was living this deep inside a mountain, he’d want a more reliable method of hauling supplies than packing them in one miner at a time. Even the old pump-handle platform cars would be more efficient than that. “All right. Lights out, except for shaded flashlights. Single file. Let’s go.”

  They made their way cautiously down the corridor, which pitched up slightly as they approached the gallery. Ronon moved as quietly as he could manage, setting his feet carefully on the shifting debris. Ahead, the darkness seemed to grow fainter, as though there were a light some distance ahead, and he lifted his hand to stop the others. “Wait here. I’m going ahead.”

  He crept forward without waiting for their response, crouching and pulling close to the wall as the light brightened. Yes, there were lights ahead, electric bulbs suspended from the ceiling; they ran down three of the corridors that led west toward the entrance. He paused for a long moment, stilling his breath to listen, but there was no sound from any of the corridors. When he edged close enough to peer into the nearest opening, there was nothing but stone and shadow as far as he could see. The others were the same, and he flashed his light once, signaling the others to join him.

  “I think we’ve reached the edge of where they’re living,” he said softly. “Do we risk the lighted areas, or is there a way around?”

  “It depends on where we’re going,” Kos said. She shook her head. “And honestly I haven’t the faintest idea where they might hold prisoners.”

  “Do you think the doctor has found anything?” Tec asked.

  Ronon suppressed the desire to point out that they knew exactly as much as he did about that. “Move back. I’m going to try to contact him.”

  They moved back into the shadows until they were — he hoped — out of earshot of anyone approaching from the connecting tunnels, and Ronon reached for his radio. Before he could begin transmitting, however, Bar said nervously, “Wait, did you hear that?”

  “Quiet,” Ronon hissed, and flicked off his flashlight. The others did the same, and in the thick dark, they could all hear it, the sound of something heavy bumping over the stone floor. There were voices with it, a murmur of conversation. He risked a glance around the edge of the opening, and saw two shapes moving against the light, dragging a wooden sledge behind them. From the shape of it, it was piled with garbage, and he bit back a curse. “Everybody. Into the left-hand tunnel, flatten yourselves against the wall.” It wouldn’t be much cover, but it would be better than nothing, particularly since the miners were coming out of relative brightness into the dark of the gallery.

  He heard scuffling as the others obeyed, and winced, risking another glance to see if the miners had heard. They were coming on, apparently oblivious, and he could make out their words now.

  “— think the general’s right?”

  That was a woman’s voice, or a boy’s; a woman’s, he guessed, from how calm it sounded.

  “He says they’re Wraith worshippers,” a man answered, sounding doubtful. “But I don’t know.”

  “I got a look at their equipment,” the woman said. “It’s not Wraith. And not Genii, either.”

  “You don’t think — the stories about Atlantis can’t be true.” They were getting closer, the sledge thumping awkwardly along the rails. “I mean, they can’t. People from another galaxy? Heirs of the Ancestors? Come on.”

  “Why not people from another galaxy?” the woman retorted. “And if they’re enemies of the Wraith, we ought to be talking to them.”

  “Well. That’s the question, isn’t it? Why would the general lie?”

  “I don’t know,” the woman answered, “but he’s done it before.”

  “That was different,” the man said.

  There was a silence, broken by the ever-increasing noise of the sledge scraping along the rails, and then the woman said, “My cousin saw the aircraft. Nobody’s ever seen anything like it. It’s not Genii, it’s not Hoffan, it’s not Wraith. I think they’re what they say they are.”

  “So what do you suggest we do about it?” the man asked. They were almost at the tunnel entrance, their shadows falling ahead of them.

  “We elected him,” the woman said. “We can unelect him.”

  “He’s a general,” the man said, with a short laugh. “He’s got the guns.”

  “Yes, but there’s only one of him.”

  “Plus the half of us who think he’s a great guy.”

  “I don’t want us shooting each other,” the woman said. “But — something is just not right.”

  Ronon took a deep breath. If Teyla were here, she’d step out of the shadows, hands open and empty, give them that trader’s smile of hers and walk away with new allies. And maybe that was the way to play this. He couldn’t exactly fight his way in, not with only four people for back-up, and if they did get in and rescue Hocken and Tan, the odds of getting out without a fight were slim to none. But if some of the miners already doubted the general’s story, maybe he could convince them. He flicked his weapon’s setting to stun, and stepped out into the fan of light spilling out of the tunnel.

  “Don’t run.” He winced — that was probably not the best way to start the conversation — and added, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  The man reached for his rifle, and Ronon lifted his own weapon in answer.

  “Wait,” the woman said. “He’s — you’re one of them. One of the Lanteans.”

  “I’m Satedan,” Ronon said. “And I’m working with Atlantis. We just want to get our people back.”

  He could hear the rest of his party moving up behind him, and the woman gave them a sharp look.

  “You — are you Satedan, too?”

  “We are,” Kos said.

  “We’re coming back,” Ronon said. “Rebuilding in the capital. The governor sent Hocken and Tan to look for survivors, only their plane had problems. We don’t want to hurt anybody or cause you any more problems than you’ve already got. But we’re not leaving them here.”

  The miners exchanged a look, and then the man said, “What about the Wraith?”

  “They’ve got problems of their ow
n,” Ronon said. This was not the time to go into the details of Lantean policy, or how doubtful he still was that it would work. “And the Lanteans have weapons that will kill them. Permanently. That’s why we’ve allied with them.”

  “Weapons that will kill Wraith,” the man repeated, and the woman said, not quite under her breath, “I knew this wasn’t making sense.”

  “We just want to get our people out safely,” Ronon said. “Can you help us?”

  They exchanged another look, and then the man nodded, sighing. The woman said, “I know where they’re keeping them. But you need to talk to Erkesen Tas first. He’ll help you —”

  Ronon shook his head. “Take us to our people first. Then — I’ll talk to him if I can.”

  ***

  Radek made his way along the corridor, trying to walk as though he belonged there. Not that it would help if anyone got a good look at him, the miners’ community was small enough that they would know everyone by sight, but from a distance he should pass for a miner. And surely he didn’t have much further to go. Ahead of him, he could see the pair who had been sent from the communal kitchen, the woman carrying a heavy tray, the man carrying a basket and what looked like a shotgun tucked under his arm. They had to be taking food to their prisoners, and from what he remembered of the map, they were reaching the end of the diggings on this side.

  Sure enough, the ground began to slope downward under his feet, and he could see a new light ahead as the tunnel widened. He could hear voices, too, and cocked his head to listen, but couldn’t distinguish Hocken’s voice among the others. And of course that was an unforeseen problem — what if the general had more than one group of prisoners, more than one set of cells? — but there was only one way to deal with that. He glanced around quickly, finding yet another of the little alcoves that lined the tunnels. He risked a quick exploration with his flashlight, and saw with relief that it was deep enough to conceal him completely. There was still no one behind him, and he eased forward until he could see into the tunnel’s end.

  There were cells, all right, practical jail cells cut into the rock, with barred doors that looked discouragingly solid. Still, the locks were large and looked old-fashioned, and surely a little C4 would knock them loose — and bring the rest of the miners running, he reminded himself. That would be a last resort. The cell to his right held three Satedan men, but to the left, he could see Hocken and Tan, Hocken leaning on the bars talking urgently to the woman with the tray. As he watched, the woman shook her head, turning away, and Radek darted back to the shelter of the alcove. He flattened himself against the dank stone and waited, watching as their head lamps grew brighter in the corridor.

  “— shouldn’t have to take care of Wraith worshippers,” the woman said, and the man made what sounded like a noise of protest.

  “Maybe they’re not.”

  “The general says so,” the woman answered, and then they were past.

  Radek waited until their light and the sound of their footsteps had receded down the tunnel, the reached for his radio. Best to let someone know where the prisoners were being held in case something went wrong.

  “Ronon, this is Zelenka.” He kept his voice just above a whisper, but even so winced at the sound. “Come in, Ronon.” There was a long silence, only static hissing in his earpiece, and he tried again. “Ronon, this is Zelenka. Please come in.”

  “Ronon here. What’s your position?”

  Radek let out a breath. “I’ve found Hocken and Tan.” He glanced quickly at his tablet. “Map 4.1, grid B-8, at the end of the longest tunnel.”

  “Copy that,” Ronon said. There was a pause, as though he was checking something. “Can you get them out? We’re coming to you.”

  Yes, with explosives, but — Radek swallowed the words. “Yes.”

  “Right.” There was another pause, not as long this time, and then Ronon’s voice came briskly. “We’ll rendezvous at the intersection at the edge of Map 5.2, that’s on the same line, but down one level. If we get there first, we’ll keep coming. If you get there first, wait for us.”

  “Yes,” Radek said, and then, remembering, “Yes, roger, I copy that.”

  “See you there,” Ronon said, and broke the connection.

  Radek slipped out of the alcove again. The cell area was lit by a single electric bulb in the ceiling, and there was no sign of a security camera. But of course the Satedans hadn’t achieved that level of technology, he reminded himself, and stepped into view.

  “Colonel Hocken.”

  “Dr. Zelenka!” She managed to keep her voice down, but the men in the other cell called out, demanding to know what was going on, and Radek waved frantically at them.

  “Will you be quiet? Someone will hear.”

  That shut them up, and Radek turned his attention to the lock on the cell door. Certainly a little C4 would do the job, and probably not bring down the roof, but there had to be a quieter way to deal with it.

  “Where’s — who else is here?” Hocken wrapped her hands around the bars as though she was trying to see further down the tunnel.

  “Major Lorne is at the front gate,” Radek said. He unfolded his multi-tool, selecting a screwdriver bit to probe the enormous keyhole. He could feel the wards, but couldn’t quite make them move. “Ronon is bringing people to meet us.”

  “You have to take us with you,” one of the men said. “You have to!”

  “Should we?” Radek looked at Hocken, who shrugged.

  “Yeah, I think we have to. Mar — General Mar, he’s the guy who’s behind all of this — he hired them to carry supplies to the mine, told them it was an exploring expedition.”

  “Except we weren’t exploring,” a fair-haired young man said. “He knew perfectly well where we were going. He told us if we’d keep our mouths shut when we got back to the capital, he’d share the profits —”

  “Only Atil here isn’t real good at keeping his mouth shut,” the other young man said. “We didn’t say yes fast enough, so he called us Wraith worshippers, and they locked us up in here.”

  “He was never going to let us go,” the oldest of the three said bitterly. “Don’t kid yourself.”

  “If we don’t bring them with us,” Tan said, “he’ll try to use them against us.”

  “Yes,” Radek said. He couldn’t pick the lock, but perhaps — yes, the screws were on the outside of the lock, not easily accessible to a prisoner, and you’d need a screwdriver anyway, but — that he had. He found the correct bit and turned hard. The metal groaned, and gave way under the pressure. “Yes, that’s good. You said profits? What is he after, the general?”

  Hocken shrugged. “This was a silver mine. Silver, maybe?”

  “You’d have to take a lot of it to make it worthwhile,” Radek said, still working at the screws. “And surely you’d have to take it off world to sell it?”

  “It’s not silver,” the oldest man said. “It’s a black rock, heavy for its size. Kind of oily looking.”

  “Come on, Yori, that can’t be it,” the blond man said.

  “It’s ore of some kind,” the other man said.

  One of the screws came free at last. Radek tucked it into his pocket and started on the next one. “Did they give it a name?”

  “Pitch,” the oldest man said. “Pitch-something. I remember because I thought he was going to burn it.”

  Radek froze, a memory flooding back: his first year at university, a near-empty classroom on an unseasonably warm day, the windows open to let in the smell of blooming trees. The professor passing chunks of rock around the classroom, daring them to guess what they were… He remembered one piece, about the size of his fist, almost black, with an odd, oiled sheen to its surface. “Pitchblende. Was that what he called it?”

  The older man shrugged. “Maybe?”

  Pitchblende. Uraninite. It took all his willpower to keep his hands steady on the multitool, winding a second screw out of its place. A radioactive ore of uranium, often found in lead and silver min
es. One made nuclear fuels from it, and plutonium for bombs. He remembered the way everyone had moved away when the professor told them what it was, the shiver that had run down his own spine when the professor waved the wand of a Geiger counter over it, producing a grating screech.

  From the look on Hocken’s face, she recognized the name as well. “Pitchblende. Isn’t that —”

  “A radioactive ore,” Radek said grimly, and fed another screw. He looked at the Satedans. “It gives off some of the same energies you use for x-rays.”

  The three men exchanged glances. “Is it dangerous?”

  Radek started on the next screw, grunting as he threw his weight against it. “It can be. If you’re exposed to it for long periods of time, it can make you sick.”

  There was a little silence, and then Tan said what they were all thinking. “The miners — they’ve been living down here since the Wraith attacked.”

  “You have to be close to it to be affected,” Radek said, but he thought she was right to worry. The lock’s face plate came free at last, and he chose a thick bit to work the latch. The door swung back, and Hocken quickly caught it before it could close again.

  “You’ve got unexpected talents, Doc. Thanks.”

  “Spend enough time on Atlantis, and you will learn the most unlikely things.” Radek turned his attention to the other cell. Having done it once, it was easier to get the second door opened, and the men came hurrying out. In the better light, the blond looked familiar, and Radek frowned. “Do you have a sister? Valiena Bar?”

  “Yes!” The young man looked startled and pleased at the same time. “Yes, I’m Atil…”

  “She has been worried about you,” Radek said. “She was with our group, probably with Ronon.”

  “We should get moving,” Hocken said.

  “Yes — yes, you’re right.” Radek returned the multi-tool to his pocket. “Ronon should be waiting.”

  ***

  Ronon followed the two miners down the corridor, aware of his own people following almost silently. There were no ceiling lights here, just their own head lamps, and the walls looked oddly damp in places, as though water was seeping from some hidden seam. They were a level below the area being used as cells, or so the woman had said, pointing out their track on the maps he’d shown her by the light of his shaded head lamp. She had introduced herself as Theanna Nen, and the man as Merivik Kei; he had been a miner, Ronon gathered, and she had worked as a dentist’s assistant in one of the supply towns at the base of the Spur. She had been visiting a cousin when the Wraith attacked, and had stayed to help with her children. Two years ago, she had walked most of the way down the Spur, but the town where she had lived was ash and empty ruin, trees sprouting through the wreck of the dentist’s office.