by Stargate
“The Asgard Core,” said Sheppard. “It’s too valuable to chance it being destroyed.”
Mason nodded. “’Course, that means the Free Jaffa think we’re all yellow. But me and the Ivans and a squad of SG-13’s Jarheads are going to change some minds.”
“Just watch your six around that Baal creep. Don’t let the smooth accent fool you, he’s tricky.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Good luck, sir.” The soldier saluted again, palm out, thumb down.
Sheppard did the same. “You too, Staff.”
McKay rubbed the sore spot on his arm were the corpsman had taken the blood sample, and glared at him. “Got enough?” he said pointedly.
“We can’t be too careful,” said East, who stood with an armed security trooper at the entrance to the compartment housing the Asgard database. “Our enemies have played some pretty smart tricks on us in the past. The Goa’uld, the Replicators, the Ori, they’ve all used duplicates and spies at one time.”
“Do I look like a Prior?” McKay retorted. “I mean, really. I have much better skin tone.”
The medical corpsman’s analysis unit gave a chime. “He’s clean. It all matches up, blood, retina, voice print, the works.”
Rodney clapped his hands together. “Great. Now we’ve established that I’m not a Cylon, can I please get to work?”
East nodded to the security guard, who opened the hatch. “Knock yourself out, Doctor. Just remember —”
“48 hours, right.”
McKay’s first thought on seeing the Asgard Core was of a church organ; the device resembled most of the consoles on Fenrir’s ship, but it was larger, and forged from a strange hybrid of human and alien technologies. Multiple holographic screens danced in the air, projected from hidden emitter nodes in the complex metallic-crystalline matrix of the device.
His mouth went dry. Inside this machine lay the assembled secrets of a species that had been venturing across intergalactic space when mankind was still in the bronze age, a universe of knowledge belonging to a race that had shackled stars to their command, bent and twisted the laws of mathematics, quantum physics and biology… It was staggering to think of it.
For a moment, a flash of childhood memory replayed in his mind’s eye; the day when he had taken his father’s hand and followed him into the local public library for the very first time. The towering stacks of books reaching away from him, seeming to go on forever. Knowledge, there for the taking.
He blinked away the reverie. As much fun as it would be to dive into the depths of the core and find the answers to problems like the Collatz conjecture or the framework for a Grand Unified Theory, Rodney wasn’t here to sightsee. He had a job to do, a target to locate.
McKay took a seat at the central console, the holographic screens orienting themselves obediently to him. “Open search engine,” he told it, cracking his fingers. “Search parameters are as follows; tell me everything there is to know about the Asgard known as Fenrir.”
Three words immediately appeared on all the screens. NO DATA FOUND.
He grinned. “You’re just not looking hard enough.” He leaned forward and began to work the keyboard in front of him.
There were just three of them left now, the other two nothing more than papery skin over jutting, angular bones.
One of the others bent over the last they had fed upon, placing his hand upon its sunken chest; but the feeding maw in his palm gained no purchase. There was no more life left to take.
With hard eyes, feral and hungry, the Wraith turned to face the others it shared a cell with. One was another functionary drone, but the other was the warrior. The warrior had made the decisions as to which of them would be sacrificed, as was the right of one so ranked in the clan. But now the choice of who would be fed upon next had narrowed too far. This time the Wraith drone would not accept its fate.
The warrior cocked his head, sensing the thoughts of its kindred. His lips drew back in a low snarl, daring the other Wraith to defy him, to attack.
And if he did, then what would happen? The thin veneer of control that had kept them barely sane, living out weeks and months since the alien had dragged them from the wreckage of their cruiser, that would break. It would shatter like glass and they would fall upon one another, fighting and feeding in frenzy until only one was left.
The low-ranked Wraith hesitated. No matter what happened, death was the only end point. He would either perish now at the hands of his own kind, eke out a slow and painful ending as a food source for his kindred, or — perhaps by some miracle — win out and survive to eventually die alone and starving.
Aching muscles coiled in his legs and his hands contracted into claws. So be it then; death now or death later. There was no point in waiting —
“Wait,” said the warrior, a twitch on his face. “Wait. Listen.”
At first he thought it was some sort of ploy, a distraction the warrior would use to blindside him and then drain him dry; but then he heard.
Not through the meat and bones of the audial pits on his cheeks and skull, but through the haze of his thoughts. Distant, like the sense of an electrical storm far beyond the horizon, close like the acidic stink of his own stale body fluids. He caught the eyes of the other Wraith in the cell with him and they all shared a nod of new, unshakable purpose.
It was a voice, echoing and approaching. A sweet, sweet voice dripping with promise and the raw pleasure of a feeding as yet untasted. A psychic bell tolling, the call of his clan Queen.
A single word, brimming with emotion and assurance.
Soon.
Teyla Emmagan stumbled to a halt in the corridor and put out a hand to steady herself, pressing the other to her head.
For a moment…
It was a spike of pain that lanced through her, harsh and brutal; but as quickly as it had arisen, it was gone, faded away as if it had never occurred.
I thought I heard…
She took a breath and straightened up.
Nothing. It was nothing…
CHAPTER TEN
“Jennifer?” Laaro held out a sample vial to her. “I was told to give this to you.”
She gave the young boy a quick smile. “Hey, thanks.” Keller turned the tube in her hand and read off the numbers written on the side. Another disappointment.
Her thoughts clearly showed on her face. “I’m sorry,” said Laaro, as if the failure of the test solution was his fault.
“It’s okay,” she told him. “We’ll just try again.”
He watched her work for a moment. “Why did you choose this path, Jennifer?”
“Why did I become a doctor, is that what you mean?” She sighed. “I guess because it’s what I’m best at. Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find a… A path that leads you where you need to go. And along the way you can help people.” Keller paused and gave a self-conscious smirk. “Does that make sense?
Laaro nodded solemnly. “It does. Do you think I could become a healer?”
“I don’t see why not.”
He nodded again, his eyes losing focus. “I… Want to help people. Like you do, like Kullid does.”
Keller realized where this was coming from; Errian’s condition had grown worse over the last day, and Laaro’s fears for his father’s wellbeing were bearing down on him. It was a lot for a child of his age to shoulder.
Kullid approached and the two healers shared a look. “Laaro,” he began, “it’s getting late. You should head home. Jaaya will worry about you.”
“I can help here,” insisted the boy, “at home I can do nothing.”
“You can help your mother,” came the reply. “Go on, go.”
“It’s okay,” Keller added. “We can talk more later.”
Laaro nodded dejectedly and left without another word.
Keller watched the youth go. “It can’t be easy on him,”
“It isn’t easy on anyone,” Kullid said, his kind eyes fatigued. “The sickness touches those who are well as much as those af
flicted.”
“We will fix this,” Keller insisted.
“I know you believe that. But I wonder if it is time to seek out another resolution…”
There was a clattering sound from the sick lodge’s doorway, and the wooden slats came open awkwardly. Lieutenant Allan stood there, her face pale. “I, uh…” She took an unsteady step into the room.
Ronon rose quickly from the nearby sleeping pallet where he had been resting. “You all right?”
The officer blinked owlishly. “Not sure,” she slurred. “Everything’s all kinda… Colorful.” Without warning, her legs gave out from under her, and Allan tipped forward, her eyes rolling back into her head, her P90 dropping from her fingers. Ronon was there to grab her before she hit the deck. She gasped and went limp.
Keller was instantly at the woman’s side. “Give her some air,”
“The sickness —” began Kullid.
Jennifer shook her head. “She wasn’t taken.”
Ronon lay the lieutenant down on the pallet and swore beneath his breath. He turned her head and exposed a thin wooden blow dart in the flesh of her neck. “We got trouble.” He went for his weapons, grabbing his gun belt where it lay across a stool.
Kullid removed the dart and sniffed the tip. “Fermented venom from the tepkay serpent. I use it myself to ease the pain of those with severe injuries. It will make her sleep deeply for a few hours.”
Ronon came up with the particle magnum in his hand. “Get away from the doors and windows,” he snapped, blinking away a twinge of pain.
From out of the evening shadows came a hooded figure, advancing slowly on the sick lodge. Keller became aware of more shapes through the slatted windows all around. The patients who had come awake at the sudden commotion shrank back towards the walls.
Jennifer reached out toward Allan’s gun and a voice called out to her. “I wouldn’t do that, Doctor. We don’t want to fill this place any more, do we?”
“Soonir…” She recognized the intonation immediately.
The figure in the doorway glanced at Ronon and folded back the hood; the rebel leader gave him a cold look, as if daring him to shoot.
Keller placed a hand on the Satedan’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“I don’t think so,” Dex grated. “He attacked the lieutenant.”
“She will wake by dawn with an aching head but no other ill-effects,” Soonir replied. “It was necessary to silence your guardian. She would have raised the alarm.”
“What makes you think I won’t?” Ronon stifled a hollow cough.
Soonir studied him. “You have the sickness. You can barely aim that pistol. You’re more likely to injure yourself than me.”
A cold smile crossed Ronon’s lips. “I’m not that sick. But go ahead, try your luck. I could use something to break the boredom.”
“I won’t have violence here!” said Kullid. “This is a place of healing!”
“Quite so,” said Soonir. “And the sickness is what I have come to speak of.” He stepped inside, a pair of men emerging from the branches nearby to flank him.
With a scowl, Ronon let his gun drop away from a firing stance; but he did not return it to its holster.
Soonir glanced at Keller. “The truth is in short supply on Heruun, doctor. Takkol ensures that this is always so. I come to you because I believe you will not deceive me.”
She met his gaze. “You’ve changed your tune. Last time I saw you, you were calling Rodney and me liars.”
Soonir’s face clouded for a moment. “I have since had opportunity to reflect on what took place at the lake. Perhaps I was too quick to draw conclusions.”
“Or maybe you just realized that you’re running out of friends?” offered Ronon.
“The only matter of importance is the freedom of my people,” Soonir replied. “The events unfolding in the skies above our world have shifted the balance of our society and it is reeling! If we are to find any kind of stability, the full truth must be known!”
“And you are the man to tell it?” said Kullid.
The rebel leader shrugged off the cloak he wore. “Who else will do it? Aaren?” He snorted. “Takkol? Doctor Keller, let me ask you. Since the Returned were freed by your Colonel Sheppard, has Elder Takkol come to you, asked you to explain what happened up there?” He stabbed a finger toward the window and the night sky beyond. When Jennifer didn’t reply, he smiled grimly. “No, I thought not. He does not want to know! He is afraid that the threat of the Aegis that backs his rule may be gone!” Soonir came closer, and Ronon moved to interpose himself between them. “I want to know if the rumors are more than fantasy, Doctor! Is the great power in the sky really a falsehood? Is it true that the Aegis is merely a living being like us, not some god or demon?”
Keller gave a slow nod. “What you know as the Aegis is a being called an Asgard. He’s not like us, he’s from a world very far from this one. But his people were extremely advanced. Their science is thousands of years beyond ours.”
Soonir faltered for a moment, taking in her explanation; clearly he had not expected Keller to be so open, so quickly. “You Atlanteans are ranged far beyond the learning of all Heruun, and so if this Asgard dwarfs your knowledge, then it must be great indeed…”
“You said ‘were’ extremely advanced not ‘are’,” noted Kullid. “What happened to them?”
“He’s the last one left of his kind,” said Ronon, with a sneer. “And after what his Risar freaks tried to do to me, if I had my way he’d be as dead as all the rest of them.”
“The last…” echoed Kullid, musing.
“But why did this being take our people?” said one of the rebel guards. Keller thought he looked familiar; she was sure she had seen him at Takkol’s lodge. “Why did it blight us with the sickness?”
“Yes,” said Soonir. “The Taken are Returned and Takkol tells us it will never occur again, but the sickness remains! The curse of the night!” He gestured at the people in the sick lodge.
“The Atlanteans aid us in the search for a cure,” said Kullid. “We are close —”
Soonir waved him away. “You have searched for a treatment for years, healer, and found nothing.”
“That’s because he didn’t have our help,” Keller broke in. “The sickness is… It’s a taint in the blood of the Returned. An accident. Once we can figure out how to purge it, it will never come back.”
“An accident?” Soonir clearly found that difficult to accept.
“Doctor McKay has ventured back through the Gateway,” added Kullid. “He will bring back new learning that will make the cure a reality.”
The rebel leader was silent for a long moment. “I do not doubt your intentions, healers,” he said, at length. “But until I see the sick restored, I remain unconvinced. And you should know that for all the false cheer Takkol demands, there is unrest here.”
“Meaning what?” said Ronon.
“The people do not know what they should believe, voyager. Some fear Takkol and the other elders are in league with you and a new tyranny is on the rise. Others are afraid that the Aegis is dead and the shadow of the Wraith will soon fall across our world once more. There are even those who would welcome such a thing, those who believe it is fated.” One of Soonir’s men suddenly moved to the doorway, drawing his leader’s attention. “There is confusion,” he concluded, “and where that leads, violence is certain to follow.”
“Guards are coming,” said the man at the door. “We must go.”
Soonir gave Keller and Ronon a hard glance. “Remember what I have said. Tell your Colonel Carter.” He pushed past and moved toward the back of the lodge, vanishing into the darkness. “And be watchful.”
Kullid shook his head. “What shall we do?”
“Keep quiet,” Ronon growled, as the doorway crashed open under the force of a boot heel.
Sheppard entered the core compartment, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm. “McKay?”
Across the room, panes of shimmering hologr
aphic text hung in the air, crowding around the sloped console of the Asgard supercomputer. “Over here,” said Rodney, over the rapid-fire tapping of fingers across a keyboard. McKay gave him the briefest of looks. “Let me guess. Blood test?”
Sheppard nodded, navigating through the floating screens. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask me for the fillings in my teeth and my first-born child as well.”
“Yeah, I bet SG-1 wouldn’t get the same treatment…” He reached up and touched a screen, making it turn in virtual space. “Look at this. I found our little grey buddy. Chapter and verse, right here.”
Sheppard studied the picture of an Asgard for a moment, his lip curled. “They all look the same to me.”
“That’s because they are all the same, more or less.”
“Why didn’t these files open for the Odyssey crew?”
“Encryption,” replied McKay, with a smug smile. “The Asgard use layered structures inside their computer architecture, and they encode each tier with a different cipher. The lower levels are so heavily coded that unless you know they’re there, you’d never find them.”
“Nice work,”
“Yes, I like to think so.”
Sheppard stood in front of the console; with all the holo-screens around them, it was like being in a hall of mirrors; except instead of reflections, there were streaming waterfalls of dense alien text. “So, what’s the scoop on Fenrir.”
The momentary grin on Rodney’s face slipped. “I don’t think he’s been entirely forthcoming with us, that’s for sure. The reason Fenrir’s records were so hard to find was because they didn’t appear in the central registry. They were in a subframe belonging to the Asgard equivalent of the, ah, correctional system.”
The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a convict?” Sheppard had a crazy mental image of the diminutive alien wearing an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit. “I thought they were too advanced for all that kind of thing, y’know, lawbreaking and stuff.”
“We know there have been other renegade Asgard. There was Loki, who conducted human biological experiments on Earth…” Rodney paused. “To be honest, I think the Asgard hid these files because they were an embarrassment to them.”
