Out on the pier, Nabu stood with Elizabeth and Rodney. The Polrusson had decided to attend the ceremony before returning home, and Carson realized that this was for him as much as anyone. As Atlas and Ea's grandson, Nabu bore their tragically conflicted legacy.
Ronon had gone to the mainland to assist Teyla and her people, so the only person missing from their eclectic group was-
-not in fact missing at all. Colonel Sheppard approached from another entrance, his polished shoes clicking on the pier. Rodney eyed him as if he were wearing a Hawaiian shirt. "I thought you didn't like that outfit."
Only Rodney McKay could refer to a military dress uniform as an`outfit.'
"I don't like it because the brass, in their infinite wisdom, sent us Class As specifically for funerals and promotions, and we have more of one than the other. This is a funeral." Sheppard's sidelong glance at Elizabeth suggested that there was something more to it than that. A subtle sign, perhaps, that he was rededicated to his duties after their earlier clash. Carson further suspected that the man was at least a little relieved to still have those silver oak leaves and, more to the point, those silver wings.
"Well, I suppose we should get started." Elizabeth moved closer to the stasis pod that still held Atlas's body. Eulogizing these Ancients seemed a complicated task, and Carson didn't envy her. Before long, however, his mind strayed back to Nabu's people. As much as the scientist in him wanted to collect DNA from as many of them as he could, the genetic variations that accounted for their wide-ranging abilities were almost certainly far too complex for him to isolate. The experiment encompassed an entire planet and thousands of years. He couldn't hope to find all the answers in a day.
Nabu had provided a blood sample himself, along with some of his impressions of the Ancient research, but had suggested kindly that Polrusso be left alone for a time, to facilitate the reintegration of his people with the cliff-dwellers. No one had tried to convince him otherwise, because no one believed he was wrong.
As with anything, in medicine or elsewhere, there was no instant solution to be had. Polrusson genetics were an area worthy of study, but one that was to be handled with care, like so much of what they'd discovered out here.
"We have a common goal with Atlas and Ea," Elizabeth was saying. "To see the end of the Wraith threat in this galaxy and others. Our methods may differ, but as humans and descendants of the Ancients we are committed to that aim, and we pledge to them that we will not fail."
Carson thought about the retrovirus research that had monopolized so much of his time in recent weeks. Another area of study that held promise as well as uncertainty. Leaving this galaxy to the Wraith was not an option. He hadn't come here to fight, but if it meant saving lives, then fight he would, in whatever way he could.
The stasis pod was lowered into the water, returning Atlas's body to the deep to rest forever with his beloved wife. While his colleagues stood by respectfully, Carson wondered if the departed Ancients knew-or cared-about the events that had transpired over the past few days. Ea deserved to know that the people she'd felt such remorse at abandoning had begun to discover the birthright left to them. If she could somehow see that, he believed that she might, at last, be at peace.
SonnyWhitelaw
With a degree in geomorphology and anthropology, Sonny Whitelaw decided that a career in academia wouldn't be as much fun as running a dive charter yacht and adventure tourism business in the South Pacific. Photojournalism came as a natural extension to her travels, and Sonny's work has been featured in numerous international publications, including National Geographic.
Sonny is also the author of Stargate SG-1: City of the Gods, The Rhesus Factor, a contemporary eco-thriller, and Ark Ship, a sci-fi drama, as well as co-author with Elizabeth Christensen of StargateAtlantis: The Chosen. She currently resides in Brisbane with her two children.
For more information, visit www.sonnywhitelaw.com
Elizabeth Christensen
Although currently a resident of central Ohio, Elizabeth Christensen still considers Novi, Michigan, to be her hometown. A civilian engineer with the U.S. Air Force, she works on propulsion and aircraft subsystems projects at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base. She received two aerospace engineering degrees and witnessed five seasons of stellar football from the University of Michigan. When not dodging Nerf balls thrown by her coworkers, she shares pilotin-command time in a Grumman Tiger airplane with her husband. Together with co-author Sonny Whitelaw, she has previously written Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen.
For more information, visit www.elizabethchristensen.com
COMING SOON
STARGATE ATLANTIS: ENTANGLEMENT
by Martha Wells
he gate stood on a flat-topped pyramid in the exact center of the ruins. It had the best vantage point in the city, with a good view of the only open ground with enough space to land the puddlejumpers, a large roofless enclosure nearly the size of a football field that might once have been an arena or theater.
The naquadah ring of the Stargate gleamed faintly in the reflected light from the planet. Off to one side, out of the path of an initiating wormhole, was the MALP they had first used to test the address. Sitting on the platform and leaning back against the MALP was Ronon Dex.
"How's it going?" John said, and sat down on the sun-warmed stone.
Ronon shrugged slightly, apparently having learned by now that that was a question that didn't necessarily need an answer.
It was helpful that Ronon had volunteered for the most boring guard duty post, but after seven years of being hunted for sport by the Wraith, John got the idea that he found it restful. It wasn't a bad post; it was quiet, the gas giant and its satellites put on a continual show in the sky, people stopped by occasionally, and there were regular breaks for meals and sleep.
And an Ancient ruin, abandoned for ten thousand years, was a far cry from a human city destroyed by a Wraith culling, with burned ruins and bomb craters where science centers or weapons emplacements had once stood, desiccated corpses in the streets and recently orphaned children scrounging for food.
John leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, tilting his head back to catch the last of the failing sun. "You want to be relieved?"
Ronon shook his head. It was too dark during the eclipse to make this post practical; they would depend on the life signs detectors and the instruments in the three jumpers for a warning of anything approaching. Instead of taking a break during the dark period, Ronon usually patrolled with the Marines on shift, making a circuit around the camp.
They sat there in silence for a time, then Ronon stirred a little and asked, "They find out why the Ancestors put this here yet?"
"Nope."
Ronon nodded. "Think they will?"
John started to give him the same answer, but he had a weird feeling, so he just said, "You never can tell."
John was used to scientists having conversations while he was trying to sleep. On missions that required long hours in the jumpers or camping on alien planets, it was impossible to avoid. Unfamiliar noises would wake him instantly and have him reaching for his pistol, but familiar voices didn't disturb him, and if they did, the conversations were usually esoteric and easy to tune out. In this camp site, where the scientists were sleeping in the jumper and John, Teyla, and the other off-duty Marines had laid out their sleeping bags near the open ramps, it was unavoidable. This conversation seemed to be about energy signatures, and distances, and triangulation, but it also seemed to be taking place at very close range. Unusually close range. John opened his eyes to see Rodney and Zelenka in the faint light from the dimmed battery lamp. They were crouched over him on opposite sides of his sleeping bag.
Zelenka was saying intently, "-if the source is intermittent, and the calculations are correct-"
"Of course the calculations are correct!" Rodney broke in. "This could explain-"
"What the hell?" John asked evenly.
Rodney waved impatiently for him to shut up. "-a
ll our anomalous readings-"
-everything that has puzzled us, the consistency of the signal yet the inability to determine direction-" Zelenka waved his hands excitedly.
"Exactly!" Rodney finished. He looked down at John. "Now what did you want?"
"I want you to get off me," John said, and thought he sounded very reasonable under the circumstances.
"The jumper," Zelenka reminded Rodney. "We need you to take us up in the jumper," he explained to John. "Quickly, before we lose the signal."
"Right, right, the jumper," Rodney agreed. He prodded John in the side impatiently. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'll give you a thirty-second head start," John promised him. "And I won't use the P-90."
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Rodney demanded, outraged. "We've been looking for this energy source for days, and you want to-"
"Wait, what?" John pushed himself upright, fully awake now. "You found it?"
"The crystals beneath the central complex, the ones we thought were drained," Zelenka tried to explain, "they are a relay, the source is intermittent-"
"It's on the other moon," Rodney hissed, prodding John again. "Now will you get up and get the damn jumper ready?"
"Why didn't you say so?" John asked him, reaching for his tac vest and gunbelt.
"I will come along as well," Teyla's voice said from the next sleeping bag over. "I am quite awake now."
"Immediately" wasn't possible, no matter how loud and imperative Rodney got. The jumpers only required a brief pre-flight, but there was a rule on all offworld missions that anything essential, or that could be identifiable as Atlantean if found by the Wraith, had to be stored onboard when not in use, so it wouldn't have to be abandoned in an emergency lift-off. Since that described pretty much everything they had here, that meant there were several cases of equipment and tools and some assorted laptops that had to be shifted out of Jumper One to Jumpers Two and Three, in case it was needed while they were gone. The five cranky scientists sleeping in Jumper One also had to be shifted to Jumpers Two and Three to join the equally cranky scientists sleeping there. It all took under twenty minutes, despite Rodney's insistence that this was an emergency and they should just take off with the equipment and extra passengers aboard.
Rodney had wanted Zelenka, Chandar, and Kusanagi to accompany them, but Chandar had volunteered to stay here and monitor the device on this end, rather than leave it to the techs. John felt compelled to point out, "Kusanagi and Zelenka don't have much offworld time. And it was hard enough to get him to come here." This was only Zelenka's second offworld mission, and he wasn't exactly a natural at it. The first one had been a brief foray to a culled planet, to try to get Rodney and Lieutenant Cadman out of the storage buffer of a downed Wraith dart. It hadn't exactly gone well.
Rodney waved the objection away. "Yes, I know. But he needs to get over it, and if Kusanagi's going to advance, she needs field experience." He hesitated uneasily, rubbing his hands together. "Are you thinking about Irina?"
And about every other scientist John had taken through a Stargate and not brought back. "You're not?"
"We all know what the risks are." Rodney looked away, grimacing. Just then, Ronon came walking down the ramp with a crate, and Rodney jerked his head toward him impatiently. "And speaking of which, why are we bringing him?"
"Because he needs more mission experience if he's going to be on the team." John knew Rodney was still holding the whole "hanging upside down from a tree" thing against Ronon. It was hardly surprising, since John had stolen a handful of Rodney's popcorn ration once last year, and Rodney was still holding that against him.
Rodney said pointedly, "Nobody thinks that's a good idea but you."
"I think it is a good idea," Teyla said, calmly sorting through her pack.
"We're not voting," Rodney told her. "We-"
"That's right, we're not," John cut him off. What they were really arguing about wasn't bringing in Ronon, but replacing Ford, and he didn't want to hear about it. It had been hard enough to make the decision; he wasn't going to reconsider it now.
John had put off adding a fourth member to their team, put off even thinking about it, about anything but getting Ford back. Until they had found him on P3M-736, out of his head from the enzyme, and John had watched him jump into a Wraith culling beam.
There hadn't been a lot of options to replace him at first; John had wanted to make certain that all the teams had at least one, preferably two, Atlantean veterans to go along with the new personnel, and now they were all assigned and working together comfortably. And he just hadn't wanted to put a shiny new Marine in Ford's place. Ford had been young, but he hadn't been inexperienced, and it still hadn't saved him. Ronon had survived seven years running from the Wraith with no support network whatsoever; he was ideal for a gate team, if they could just teach him how to work and play well with others again. "We're bringing Ronon," he said, and Rodney flung his arms in the air and stalked off.
John also took the time to arrange a check-in schedule with Major Lome. "Think you can handle the excitement?" John asked.
"Yes, sir," Lome said, his expression wry in the light from the battery lamps. Lome was Air Force and John's newly assigned 21C, and John had been a little surprised that he was fitting in so well on Atlantis. But then Lome had been in the SGC for a few years, and was probably used to the crazier aspects of offplanet life. He also had the Ancient gene, so he could fly the puddlejumpers if necessary.
Lome added, "If the scientists start fighting again, I'll just use the Wraith stunners."
"Fire a warning shot first," John told him. After that, they were ready to leave.
"Finally!" Rodney snarled as the jumper lifted off. He was in the left hand jump seat, connecting his laptop into the jumper's systems. "If we lose this trace-"
"Did you lose it?" John asked, guiding the jumper rapidly up through the dark sky.
"No, but-"
"Then shut up."
"Everyone moved as quickly as possible," Teyla pointed out from the co-pilot's chair, her tone placating. She had called the shotgun seat before Rodney, which John suspected was also pissing him off.
"How long will it take to get there?" Zelenka asked warily from the other jump seat. Miko was sitting in the back with Ronon. She seemed more excited than nervous, while Zelenka seemed mostly nervous.
The holographic Heads Up Display popped into view above the control panel in response to John's thought. John mentally converted the figures from Ancient. "About forty-five minutes, give or take."
Rodney nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. "I just hope the signatures are still traceable by then."
John rolled his eyes. "Why don't you get the snack cakes out from under the medical kit?"
Zelenka looked up, startled. "Is that where they are? I thought they had run out."
"Chandar's techs were eating them," Rodney explained darkly, standing up to head into the back.
"Bastards," Zelenka muttered.
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