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Nightfall

Page 14

by Stargate


  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The pop-up on the screen read ‘download complete’, and Carter paused to double-check the contents of the laptop’s memory; in hyper-compressed and encrypted form, every gigabyte of her work and personal research database relating to the Asgard had been ported over, ready to accompany her through the Stargate. She moved around the room, gathering up the last few items she would need to take with her to Heruun.

  She glanced up at McKay, who stood in the doorway, his fingers knitting together. “Go ahead, Rodney, I’m listening.” The scientist was conducting an on-the-hoof debriefing; he had only been back on Atlantis for a few hours and would soon be returning to M9K-153 with her.

  “He’s the real deal,” said McKay. “At first, I thought we might be dealing with another situation like Angelus —”

  Despite herself, Carter gave a shudder. “Let’s not go there again.”

  “— But no. He’s Asgard, all right. From head to toe. If they have toes.”

  Sam recalled the first time she had met a member of the Asgard species, the warrior-scientist Thor. His kindred had turned out to be one of Earth’s greatest allies, and they had given so much of themselves in the struggles to keep threats like the Replicators, the System Lords and the Ori at bay. And after what had become of them…

  She frowned. Now is not the time to dwell on that.

  First things first, she had to focus on the problems in front of her. Carter had no doubt that the International Oversight Advisory would be contacting her in short order with tersely-worded commands to ‘secure’ the Asgard ship and its valuable technology, and that was part of the reason she was going off-world. Partly to avoid the IOA long enough to make her own evaluation, and partly because she just had to see it for herself.

  There was one other reason, of course, and it amused her a little to have McKay admit to it; of all the people on Atlantis, Samantha Carter had the most first-hand experience with the Asgard and their incredible hardware, thanks to her time in SG-1. Rodney never found it easy to confess to knowing less than anybody about anything.

  “He knew what we were,” McKay went on. “Humans from Earth, I mean. He knew our planet.”

  She nodded. The Asgard had originated in another part of the intergalactic neighborhood that included the Milky Way and Pegasus galaxies, and they were well-traveled. Like the Goa’uld, they had visited a lot of human worlds in the guise of godlike beings, but where the System Lords had come to conquer and subjugate, the Asgard had brought protection and enlightenment. Earth, Cimmeria, K’Tau and many other planets had been touched by them in the deep past, millennia later the legacy of their visitations cemented into local myth and legend.

  “I think he was as surprised to see us here as we were to see him,” said Rodney. “Even more so when I showed him I could work one of his computers,” he added with a smug sniff.

  Sam glanced at him. “I’ve never heard of the Asgard visiting Pegasus, but it’s not beyond the realms of possibility. After all, they had colony worlds in our stellar community, as well as the Othala and Ida galaxies.” She closed the laptop and placed it in her gear pack. “How were things when you left the planet?”

  “Hectic,” he noted. “Sheppard convinced our new friend to release all the Heruuni people he had aboard his ship and return them to the surface, in return for having us promise to fix the damage to his vessel. When all the Taken were returned at once, in the middle of the day… It was a pretty big deal.”

  “No doubt,” said Carter. “And the Asgard just agreed to it? That’s a lot of trust to put in a stranger.”

  “Well, I have to take some credit,” he noted. “As a goodwill gesture, I cannibalized some of the cloaking circuits from the Jumper One to patch the long-range matter transporter on the ship. I figured that would score us some brownie points, but to be honest, it wasn’t me or Sheppard who convinced him, in the end.”

  Carter pulled the pack on to her shoulder and left the office, McKay walking with her. “Really?”

  “No. It was Teyla. The Risar seemed to pay more attention to her than any of the rest of us.”

  Carter didn’t comment on the point, but put it aside for later consideration. “Risar. You used that word before.” She threw a nod to the gate technician as they crossed through the control tier.

  “It’s the name he gave to the… I’m not sure what to call them, his remotes, his organic drones…” McKay shrugged. “Like most Asgard stuff, it’s a Norse mythology thing. Apparently the Risar were servants of the gods, or something. Giants.”

  As they descended the stairs to the gate room proper, the blue symbols around the edge of the Stargate began to illuminate as M9K-153’s dialing address locked in, chevron by chevron.

  Carter checked the pistol in her thigh holster; it never hurt to be prepared, and after everything that had happened on Heruun up until now, it seemed prudent to have the ability to defend yourself if the circumstances required it.

  McKay went on. “From what we can figure, a few years ago the ship dropped out of hyperspace in the Heruun system, and by some fluke found itself in the midst of a Wraith culling fleet preparing to attack the planet.”

  “How long ago?”

  “Decades, perhaps a generation or two. I can’t be sure.” He shrugged. “So. There was a firefight and the Wraith were destroyed, but not before they scored a few choice hits.”

  “And the damaged Asgard ship was forced down on to the lunar surface,” she replied, picking up the thread of the story. “But the damage was too widespread for these Risar to fix on their own?”

  McKay nodded. “Not enough manpower, and apparently the drones have a very limited lifespan. Days, at most, before they degrade and die off.”

  “So the Asgard kidnapped the locals to use as a labor force, keeping them for couple of weeks, and then erasing the memory of what had happened to them.”

  “Some sort of engineered hypnotic control, apparently.” Rodney pulled a sour face at the idea of being someone else’s puppet. “That’s what happened to Laaro’s father.”

  “The boy Lorne spoke about?”

  “Yes. I think that’s what they were trying to do to Ronon, program him the same way to act as a worker drone.”

  The last chevron locked and the gate plume cut through the air, shimmering into solidity. Sam paused on the threshold. “We’ve seen that kind of thing before. A few years back, on Earth, SG-1 encountered a rogue Goa’uld doing something similar.”

  “I read that file,” said McKay. “Creepy.”

  “How is Ronon?”

  McKay’s frown deepened. “Doctor Keller has already gone back with a medical team. I’m sure she’ll be able to fix him up. The guy’s pretty tough.” He didn’t sound convinced.

  Carter advanced through the event horizon of the gate’s open wormhole and felt the strange, cold rush across her face as she pressed into the ripples. She was aware of a giddying, thunderous sense of displacement, and then suddenly she was walking down crumbling steps of brown stone, the heavy heat of a long, cloudless day enveloping her.

  Standing sentinel amid the stone pillars surrounding the Stargate, Major Lorne threw her a salute. “Welcome to Heruun, Colonel.”

  Sam returned the greeting. “Thank you, Major. Sitrep?”

  “The natives are a bit restless, but so far nothing beyond that.”

  “Good, keep me posted.” She glanced around. “Where’s Colonel Sheppard?”

  Lorne jerked his chin up at the evening sky, toward the silvery ring bisecting the clouds and the distant moons beyond. “Still upstairs, ma’am. He’s expecting you.”

  Sam felt a familiar tingle growing all around her, and nodded. “Right.”

  The air around them became a curtain of glowing white energy, and for the second time in less than a minute, Carter’s and McKay’s bodies were dissembled into their component atoms and thrust through a quantum tunneling effect, to be reconstructed at a new location. When the white glow died away, Carter was standi
ng on the deck of the Asgard ship, the familiar curved walls arching away from her. John Sheppard waited nearby, and with him was Teyla Emmagan.

  “Teyla,” said Carter, a sense of relief washing over her. “You’re all right.”

  The Athosian woman seemed troubled, but she hid it quickly. “I am unhurt, Colonel.”

  “I intended no harm to come to anyone,” said a voice. Sam turned and found a tall, rangy creature standing next to the transporter control console.

  “Risar,” said McKay, from the side of his mouth.

  “I guessed,” she replied. Carter stepped forward. “I am Colonel Samantha Carter of Stargate Command and the Atlantis expedition. Am I addressing Fenrir?”

  “In a manner of speaking,” said the creature. The closer she looked, the more she could see the faint physiological similarities between the drone and an Asgard; but the humanoid was a cruder, more primitive version of the willowy, slight aliens she knew — the Asgard equivalent of a Neanderthal. “But I am not here,” continued the voice, the Risar touching its head.

  “Then, where are you?” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You have nothing to fear from us. Our species and yours has a history of alliance and co-operation.”

  “So I have been informed,” came the breathy, if suspicious reply, “but you will forgive me if I am reluctant.”

  “We made a deal in good faith,” Sheppard began. “Think of the transporter repair and releasing the abductees as the first payment. This is the next step.”

  Carter nodded. “We prefer to speak to those we deal with face to face.”

  “It’s a, uh, human thing,” added McKay.

  The Risar said nothing, watching them with a neutral expression; finally, Teyla spoke. “Fenrir. You must trust us.”

  “I will,” it said at length. “Follow this drone.”

  They did as they were asked to, and the Risar silently led them through a series of junctions, deeper into the heart of the vessel. The humans approached a wide, reinforced hatchway, guarded by another pair of Risar armed with crystalline ovoids that resembled the control spheres from Asgard consoles.

  The hatch retreated into the deck and a cold waft of air reached out from the chamber beyond. Carter and Sheppard entered first as illuminating strips came on all around the walls. The chamber was dominated by a long, low capsule covered in a thin layer of frost, surrounded by smaller control consoles. Parts of the complex machinery seemed damaged, indicator lights flickering, burn damage visible here and there. Sam saw a glassine port in the side of the capsule and glimpsed blue-white flesh inside.

  “Fenrir?” she asked, her breath making a cloud of vapor at her lips.

  With a hum, the holographic image of an Asgard came into being between them and the machinery. “Greetings, Colonel Samantha Carter. I am Fenrir.”

  “Uh, no offence meant,” said Sheppard, “but you’re not. You’re a hologram.” The colonel stepped forward and waved his hand through the image, making it flicker and pixelate for a moment.

  Sam studied the image. The Asgard were identical, beings born from clone stock who endured by the transfer of their minds from one living copy to another; and yet there was something about the representation of Fenrir, an unusual cast to his eyes that set him apart from the others of his kind she had known, a subtlety she couldn’t fully quantify.

  She pointed at the capsule. “That’s really you, isn’t it? Your organic body, inside that pod.”

  The alien nodded once. “My flesh, yes. In cryogenic suspension. However, my consciousness remains active and connected to some of my ship’s systems. Hence, my ability to converse with you through this interface, and my operation of the Risar.”

  “They are all Fenrir,” said Teyla quietly.

  “From a certain perspective, that is correct.”

  “Stasis pods,” said McKay, “used for long duration space flight. But that begs the question, why are you still in there? Relatively speaking, I mean.”

  “I am trusting you with this knowledge,” said the alien, “to prove my sincerity.” The hologram gestured at the capsule. “Although I wish it, I cannot end the stasis cycle and exit the pod. Damage sustained to my vessel has caused a critical interrupt in the system, and any attempt to intervene could cause a cascade failure. If the deactivation cycle commences, I will perish.”

  “But you can transfer your consciousness to another cloned body —” began Sam.

  “No, Colonel Carter. The emergency genetic bank aboard this craft was also lost when the Wraith attacked me. I was only able to reconstruct the gene-code for Risar.” The Asgard seemed to frown. “My only chance of survival is to repair my ship and return to my homeworld, Hala.”

  Carter was suddenly aware that McKay and Sheppard were watching her intently. “We’ll do whatever we can to help you,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral.

  A space had been cleared for Keller’s equipment in the middle of the sick lodge, and in short order she had set up a folding table and all the immunobiology gear she could get through the Stargate. Kullid hovered nearby, both nervous and fascinated by the advanced technology; he was paging through a data pad filled with microscopic images of the Asgard nanites. “At last we know the face of the sickness,” he had said, when she told him what they were up against. He had grasped the idea of the nanites quickly.

  If anything, the lodge’s population had grown since she had been here last, doubtless from new arrivals who had succumbed to the malaise after the en masse returning from Fenrir’s ship. Keller scowled. How could a life form that was supposedly so advanced do something so callous to another intelligent being? The doctor had admittedly seen such behavior — too much of it, to be true — among her own species, but on some level she’d been hoping that out here in the wider universe, maybe things went a little differently. She felt slightly disappointed at her own naiveté.

  “Doctor?” One of the nurses she’d enlisted from Atlantis approached, a rack of sample tubes in her hand. “We’re ready to start the next series.”

  “Go ahead, Cathy,” she told her. “You know what to do.” Keller crossed to where Ronon was propped up on a low bed. The Satedan had taken a wooden stool from somewhere and was using it like a table. He had a dozen weapons spread out on the makeshift platform, and was cleaning them with a stained oilcloth.

  “This is a hospital, not an armory,” she told him.

  He didn’t look up at her. “Gotta have something to keep me occupied. Unless of course you want to sign off on me, let me go.” Ronon seemed to have regained his focus after returning from the alien ship.

  Keller folded her arms over her chest. “How do you feel?”

  “Fine,” came the reply, and with it a stifled cough. Dex grimaced.

  “You’re the worst liar in the world,” she retorted. “I can’t help you if you don’t help me.”

  Finally he looked at her. “I don’t need help. I’ve dealt with worse than this, come back from it.” He put down the knife he was cleaning and Keller saw the slight tremor in his hand as he tried to hide it. “It’s the air in this place, it’s making me sick just being here.”

  She lowered her voice. “Don’t try to sell me that tough guy stuff, because I’m not buying it. You’re staying here until I say you’re fit, and not before. So deal with it.”

  That got her a flash of annoyance. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she retorted, “I’m really enjoying watching people get sicker and sicker while I run up one blind alley after another looking for some cure that may not even exist.” The heat in her words surprised her, and Ronon as well.

  After a long moment, he looked away. “Send me back to Atlantis, then. Check me out there. It’s gotta be easier than shipping all this kit to Heruun.” He nodded at the equipment table.

  “It’s too risky. I’m not certain how the nanite markers will react to gate travel. It could disrupt them. I don’t want to take the chance that someone will come through the wormhole and dro
p dead in the gate room.”

  “I’m used to risk,” said Ronon. “It’s what makes me a soldier.”

  She eyed him. “Well, I’m used to caution, and that’s what makes me a doctor.” Keller sighed. “Sorry, Ronon, but for now you’re stuck here.”

  There was a moment of open, hard anger on his face, a dart of fury that he had nowhere to direct; but then it faded and his lips thinned. “Guess so.”

  Voices filtered in from outside the sick lodge, raised tones full of laughter and relief. “At least someone is having a better day than I am,” said the Satedan.

  “They are celebrating the Returned,” said Laaro. The boy approached, carrying an Atlantis holdall that was far too heavy for him. He had insisted on helping Keller set up the temporary lab, and had taken it upon himself to trail around after her, observing everything she did. “Where should I put this, Jennifer?” He grunted as the bag threatened to fall from his fingers.

  “Give it to the nurse,” she told him, and he dutifully obeyed.

  Kullid patted the boy on the shoulder as he walked away. “Celebrations,” he mused. “Such things never reach within these walls. But perhaps it is for the better.”

  “How’s that?” Keller asked.

  “Elder Takkol called another festival day only because he had no choice. Your people convinced the Aegis to bring back all the Taken, but he has to make it seem as if it were his doing, otherwise he is weakened by this turn of events.”

  “Politics,” Ronon grunted sourly, and returned to his weapons.

  “What the elders do affects us all,” Kullid said glumly.

  “All that matters for now is that there won’t be any more abductions,” said Keller, moving back to the table. “Heruun can sleep soundly from now on. No more Giants, no more Taken and Returned.”

  “If only that meant the end of our problems,” said Kullid. “You and I are healers, Jennifer, and it is our way to look for the good among the ill…”

 

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