STARGATE ATLANTIS: The Wild Blue (SGX-05)

by Melissa Scott

  “I do wonder what happened to them,” she had confided, when they had stopped to rest and wolf down protein bars, “if any of them made it off-world — so I pretend they did, and imagine they’re living happily on Manara or Kappes or someplace like that.”

  They were almost certainly dead, the dentist and her friends and her brother who had lived in the capital, but Ronon knew she understood that as well as he did. And he had discovered that some of his friends had survived, though that had not been a good thing in the end. “Anything’s possible,” he had said, and they had moved on.

  He was angrier than he had expected, angry at Mar for lying, not just because it trapped these people in the depths of a mine where humans were never meant to live, but because it denied everything Cai had been trying to do. The returned Satedans had done so much, rebuilding the area around the Stargate, driving off the Genii, setting up new trade agreements that would let them do even more. It was wrong to deny them that possibility, particularly when Mar knew perfectly well what was happening. It was a calculated cruelty that made him want to pound Mar’s head against a stone wall.

  It also made no sense. Why didn’t Mar want the miners to know about the new settlement in the capital? It wasn’t as though many of these people were going to make the long walk out of the mountains. It wouldn’t have cost Mar anything, one iota of his power, to say that people had come back to the capital, but that it wasn’t safe to trade with them. There wasn’t any need for this complicated story about Wraith worshippers and Atlantis as a hoax. At least not that he could see. He scowled, frustrated, the beam of his head lamp sweeping across more dark, oily stone. Teyla would have figured it out by now. That was exactly the sort of thing she was good at, listening and smiling, until she had all the pieces in her hands and could reveal them like the winning cards in a game of wild nines. Sheppard would have gotten it, too, with his questions that never seemed to quite aim at his target, but always got there in the end. Whereas he himself… he didn’t know what to ask, or how to ask without upsetting the fragile balance. The main thing was to rescue Hocken and Tan, he told himself firmly. Get them out, make sure they’re not in any danger, and we can worry about the rest later. And rescuing them was something he could do.

  They had reached a spot where the tunnel widened into a circular chamber, and three more tunnels came in at angles. A single flickering bulb hung from the center of the ceiling, and the woman Nen raised a finger to signal silence. Ronon nodded, and stopped beside her before he spoke, keeping his voice low.

  “Problem?”

  “We’re here,” Kei said, equally softly. He pointed to the nearest of the new entrances. “That’s a spiral ramp, leads up to the main level. It comes out at the head of the corridor that leads down to the cells.”

  “Right.” It looked faintly lighter inside the spiral, and Ronon flicked off his head-lamp. “Ok. I’m on point. Nen, you’re with me. The rest of you, stay here. If there’s any trouble, don’t try to help, just fade out and get back to Lorne. Got that?”

  There was a murmur of agreement, and Wood said, “Yes, sir.”

  Ronon looked at Nen. “Let’s go.”

  The ramp wound upward in a tight spiral, steep enough that Ronon wouldn’t have liked to try to get a handcart down those slopes. He said as much to Nen, who shook her head.

  “This is for personnel. Equipment goes on the lifts.”

  Ronon nodded, remembering the marks on the maps. “Are they still running?”

  “Some of them. We’re short of rope and cable.”

  “We could trade for that,” Ronon said. “We’ve salvaged some in the capital.”

  Nen gave him a sidelong look, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “This — you’ve really gotten that far? And the Wraith haven’t come back?”

  “They’ve been fighting a war of their own,” Ronon answered, and couldn’t keep a certain satisfaction from his voice. “And we’re allied with Atlantis. The Wraith don’t want to mess with them.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nen said. “Why wouldn’t the general —”

  Something moved in the shadows ahead of them, and Ronon held up his hand. Nen froze, then flattened herself against the wall beside him. He cocked his head, listening, then slid forward so that he could see around the next curve. They were almost at the top of the ramp, thin light shining down from the bulbs that ran along the walls of the upper corridor, and he could hear soft voices just outside the entrance. He motioned for Nen to stay still, and edged forward, his weapon ready, moving as softly as he could on the gravel-strewn ground. The lights from the corridor spilled into the opening, but the curve of the ramp left enough of a shadow for him to hide in. He rested his back against the damp stone and eased himself toward the entrance. The voices were louder now, though he still couldn’t make out the words: several people, men and women, talking quickly and quietly, voices tight with tension. Had the miners discovered the escape already? He leaned forward, and let out his breath in a huge sigh of relief as he spotted Zelenka and Hocken among the group.

  “Hey,” he said, keeping his voice low.

  The group whirled to face him, Hocken with a P90 ready — Zelenka’s, Ronon guessed. Zelenka had a pistol, and the others, Tan and three strangers, lifted heavy sticks that looked as though they’d been scavenged from the mine itself. Zelenka recognized him first, sagging with relief, and Hocken dropped the muzzle of her weapon.

  “Ronon! Are we glad to see you!”

  “Everybody all right?” They all seemed uninjured, but Ronon was still relieved when Hocken nodded.

  “Yeah. We’re good. We just need to get out of here.”

  Ronon leaned back into the mouth of the ramp, waved for Nen to come forward. “Yeah. What’s our best way to get back to the main entrance?”

  “The general’s going to have that blocked,” Nen answered.

  “Are there any other exits on this side of the Spur?” Ronon checked the corridor around them. No sign of pursuit, but that wouldn’t last forever.

  “I don’t think so?” Nen spread her hands. “I’m not a miner, though.”

  Ronon looked at the other Satedans who had been locked up with Hocken and Tan, but they shook their heads. He closed his eyes, trying to remember the maps. They wouldn’t be any worse off if they went down one level, and that might confuse anyone looking for them. “Right. This way. Nen, you lead.”

  She obeyed without hesitation, starting back down the tight spiral, and Ronon fell into step between Hocken and Zelenka.

  “Who are these guys?”

  “General Mar hired them to carry supplies up to the mine,” Hocken said. “Only then he wanted them to go along with some story about Wraith worshippers, and they weren’t quick enough to say yes, so he locked them up.”

  “One of them is Valiena Bar’s missing brother,” Zelenka said.

  Ronon nodded. “Good. Do you have any idea what Mar is after? Because none of this is making a lot of sense.”

  “Not so much.” Zelenka sounded grim. “They are mining pitchblende, uranium ore, but I don’t know what he wants it for.”

  “And this is a problem.” Ronon made the words a statement rather than a question, and Zelenka shrugged.

  “Pitchblende — uranium dioxide — is radioactive. We use it on Earth to make uranium for nuclear fission, fuel for power plants and bombs.” Zelenka shook his head. “It’s dangerous to be too close to it for long periods of time. The Genii found that out. But Sateda doesn’t have any use for radioactive materials, your technology hasn’t advanced that far. Though — you had radium, I think, before the Wraith?”

  “We had x-ray machines,” Ronon said.

  Zelenka nodded. “But for that you need radium, smaller sources than you could process from the material from this mine, or it would have been a good deal more profitable in its day.”

  “But why does he want uranium?” Hocken said. “Nobody here —”

  She stopped abruptly, and Ronon said, “The Geni
i. They’re still trying to make those bombs. And this would be a big step, right?”

  “Maybe,” Zelenka said. “It has to be processed, refined — you can’t just walk out of here with a few lumps of ore and expect to make a weapon.” He sighed. “But if that’s not it… No, I don’t know.”

  Ronon shook his head. The Genii had their Ancient spacecraft, even if it had been pretty badly shot up. It wasn’t impossible to imagine them landing here without Cai knowing. But the Lanteans would know, and Radim, at least, seemed to want to keep on their good side for now. Though if Mar had showed up in the capital with a wagon-load of rocks and said he knew somewhere he could trade for them, no one would have stopped him, either. He put the thought aside as they reached the bottom of the spiral.

  “Atil!” Valiena Bar managed to keep her voice down as the party emerged from the spiral, but flung herself at her brother. He caught her, looking at once grateful and embarrassed as she wound her arms around him. “You never checked in. I’ve been so worried!”

  “I’m fine, Val, really.”

  “Save it for later,” Ronon said. “We need to get out of here, preferably without having to walk back through the mine.” The thought of trying to thread their way back out through the maze of tunnels made him break out in a cold sweat. “Does anybody know a way out on this side?”

  The miners exchanged another look, and Kei said, “I don’t. But Erseken Tas will.”

  “He’s not been happy with the general,” Nen said. “He’ll help you.”

  Ronon hesitated, but it was the best option he had. “All right. Take us to him.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  NEN LED them quickly through the darkened tunnels, stopping at last at the foot of another spiral ramp. “Wait here.”

  “No.” Ronon caught her sleeve before she could get away. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Can you trust her?” Zelenka asked.

  Nen glared at him. “I’ve brought you this far —”

  They had to trust her, Ronon thought. She had to be trustworthy, or there was no way they were going to win the miners back to being Satedans again. But that was too complicated to explain right now, and there wasn’t time. “We have to,” he said, and pointed to Kei. “You stay here. Hocken, if I’m not back in half an hour, find a way out on your own.”

  “Will do.” Hocken’s hands closed tight on the butt of the P90, then opened again. They both knew there wasn’t much chance of getting out without help, but there was nothing else to do.

  “Ok,” Ronon said, and looked at Nen. “Lead on.”

  She led him through a tangle of narrow corridors that had obviously been converted from active mining to living space. The lights were brighter here, the bulbs hanging at shorter intervals, and in spots boards had been set up against the walls to hide the stone. It was warmer, too, the air less damp, and there were more people visible in the halls. Nen tried to keep to the least crowded tunnels, but even so Ronon kept his head down and hoped no one was paying close attention.

  At last they stopped at a door that had been set into an arched opening in the tunnel wall. The wood had been painted a vivid, spring-leaf green, and what looked like a cowbell without a clapper hung in the center of the boards. Nen tapped gently on it, and a moment later the door opened and a dark-skinned woman peered out, her greying braids caught up in a strip of bright red fabric.

  “Theanna?”

  “I need to talk to Erkesen right now,” Nen said.

  “He’s really busy,” the dark woman began, and then her eyes widened as she saw Ronon.

  “It’s urgent,” Nen said, and the dark woman nodded, pulling the door open.

  “So I see.”

  The door gave onto a room that might have come from one of the magazines Melena had read before the Wraith came, paneled walls painted white to reflect the lamplight, an electric mountain stove with bars glowing orange and an iron kettle steaming on the hob, a trestle table and wooden stools and even a cushioned armchair. A basket beside it held carded wool and a spindle half-full of spun thread, and an embroidered curtain covered a doorway that had to lead to inner rooms. Before Ronon could say anything, the curtain was swept aside, and a tall man ducked under its curve, only to stop abruptly, seeing a stranger.

  “Father says —”

  “They want to talk to Erkesen,” the woman said, with a wry smile. “I think they should.”

  The tall man — he had the woman’s mouth, Ronon thought, was probably her son — gave her a startled look, then blinked as he focused on Ronon. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  He stepped back, still holding the curtain, and Ronon followed Nen into the second room. The woman came in after them, her feet silent on the well-swept floor. “Father.”

  An older man, his steel-gray hair cut close to his scalp, looked up from his place at the head of a long table. This was obviously the room that served as a work room, with a long table beneath the cluster of lights, and a curtained bed tucked into one corner. Another curtain covered a doorway that led further into the mountain: a bedroom, Ronon guessed.

  “What’s this?” The older man stopped abruptly. “I suppose I should say ‘who.’”

  “He’s from Atlantis,” Nen said. “Like the others.”

  “I’m Satedan,” Ronon said. It was suddenly important to make that clear. “Ronon Dex. I was a Technical Specialist under Kell when the Wraith came. But, yeah, I work with the Lanteans now.”

  “Mar says Atlantis is a Wraith trick.” Tas stopped again, shaking his head. “I’m Erkesen Tas. My wife Dreshka Sur, and my son Arton. Theanna I know.”

  “It’s not a trick,” Ronon said. Tas gestured to a chair, and Ronon seated himself, though the muscles down his spine crawled at the thought of making himself that vulnerable. Arton brought a teapot and cups and filled them, while Sur took a seat at her husband’s side. “I’ve been — I’ve lived on Atlantis. They’re exactly what they say they are, travelers from another galaxy, and they’ll stand up with us against the Wraith.” He believed that, he realized. They were trying to get out of it, because, sentimentally or foolishly or just out of inability to believe that that Wraith were what they were, they thought the Wraith could be saved. But when it came to a choice, they would fight beside their fellow humans.

  “Strangers from another galaxy,” Tas said. “What did they come here for? And why did they pick you?”

  “They came to explore,” Ronon said. “And they didn’t pick me. I —” He stopped, frustrated, fumbling for the words that would explain why he’d thrown in his lot with Atlantis when there had seemed to be nothing either to gain or lose. “I told you, I was a Technical Specialist when the Wraith attacked. That was in the capital. We fought as long as we could —” And that was a memory he refused to face, not today, and he stumbled on. “But finally I was taken. And when I woke up, a Wraith told me I’d been chosen. I was to be a Runner. They’d give me a head start and if I could get to the Stargate, I could run. Because they wanted the fun of hunting me down.”

  He glared at Tas, daring him to disbelieve, but the miner nodded. “I’ve heard — we’ve all heard of such things.”

  “So I ran,” Ronon said. “I killed the first Wraith and took his weapon and made it through the gate. After that — I kept running. They kept chasing. Seven years in, I ran into a Lantean scouting party.” He stopped again, the events still defying belief. “I took a couple of them hostage, so I could get out through the gate. They offered to have their surgeon remove the tracker the Wraith had put in my back, and find out what had happened on Sateda since I was taken. They kept their word. They were living in the city of the Ancestors, using its technology to fight the Wraith and to help people where they could, and — Sateda was destroyed, then. I threw in my lot with them. Joined a team. And when they brought Atlantis back, I came with them, and we found that people had started coming back to Sateda. I’ve been acting as, I guess, a liaison since then.” He shrugged. “The Wraith were massing for a war of their own, and
we fought them, beat them back for now.”

  He stopped then, the thing that he didn’t want to have to admit on the tip of his tongue. Atlantis had destroyed Queen Death, yes, but they had made a bargain with other Wraith to do so.

  “How could they possibly…” Sur’s voice trailed off.

  Ronon took a deep breath. He couldn’t lie, not even by omission, not if he wanted the miners to trust him. Though if they would trust him afterward — he shoved that thought away. “One Wraith queen was trying to control all the Wraith, and we ended up fighting alongside a faction that opposed her. Once Death was dead, the Lanteans made a truce: the Wraith agreed to stay out of our part of the galaxy, and the Lanteans agreed not to pursue them into theirs.”

  He could feel the cold disbelief spreading through the room, even Nen pulling away from him a little. Arton said, “What about the people in the Wraith part of the galaxy? Are the Lanteans just leaving them there?”

  “There’s a new drug,” Ronon said. “A retrovirus. It lets the Wraith feed on people without killing them.”

  “That’s not enough,” Sur said, and Arton shook his head.

  “Is that what the general meant? That Atlantis made a deal with the Wraith?”

  In the same moment, Tas said, “They’re mad. What makes them think the Wraith will keep their word? They’re just buying time until they can attack again.”

  “I think you’re right,” Ronon said. “We can’t trust them. But this buys us time, too. By the time the Wraith break the truce, we’ll be ready to fight back, more than we ever were before. And the Lanteans will fight beside us.”