“What do the Genii say?” Lorne asked. Having dealt with the Genii more than once — having been both their prisoner and their volunteer pilot during the battle with Queen Death — he always felt as though he ought to understand them better than he did. Instead, he caught himself distrusting every word they said.
Zelenka shrugged. “They say they don’t know either. Though — I assume they are suspecting sabotage because the Genii are always suspicious of everything. But it could be that their repairs weren’t as good as they thought.”
“The Genii are effing weird,” Peebles muttered. “Sir.”
“They are indeed,” Zelenka said. He held out one of the candy-red fruit that the mess hall traded for, and that everyone on Atlantis called apples despite the complaints of the botanists that they were actually more closely related to pears. “Anyone? I brought four.”
Lorne took one and so did the others, and they sat in companionable silence, enjoying the crisp fruit as P3M-991 rotated slowly below them. It wasn’t what Lorne had imagined when he joined the military, but then, he hadn’t imagined that anything like the Stargate program existed. Maybe if he had been able to, the Genii wouldn’t seem so strange.
The first chevrons lit, and he hastily swallowed the last bite of apple as the Stargate opened.
“Jumper Three, this is Atlantis,” Salawi said. “Stand by for Colonel Carter.”
“Atlantis, Jumper Three,” Lorne said. “Standing by.”
The gate room was replaced by Colonel Carter’s face. “Major. Do you have something for us?”
“Yes, ma’am, but it’s not about the Pride.” Lorne paused. “At least not directly. No one from Teos has contacted you?”
Carter shook her head. “Should they have?”
“Maybe. As the jumper exited the Teos Stargate, we were attacked by unknown persons wearing what looked like Teosian uniforms. The Teosian authorities drove them off, and we landed without sustaining any significant damage. They were supposed to let you know directly if they managed to identify the attackers.”
“Teosian uniforms,” Carter said. “But you said the Teosians drove them off?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Lorne recounted the incident, then went through it a second time in detail under her questioning. “But that’s not all. While Dr. Zelenka was checking the hull, one of the Teosians slipped him a note and said that they had used — whatever was on the paper — on the Pride.”
Zelenka leaned forward so that he could see and be seen. “Colonel Carter. The note is in the Ancient notation, but it’s a chemical formula. I don’t recognize it, and the jumper isn’t equipped to handle the translation.” He held up the note, flattening it so that Carter could see.
“I don’t recognize it either,” she said. “It’s a chemical formula, but that’s all I’ve got. I’ll pass it on to Dr. Beckett and his team.”
“The girl said they ‘did it to the Pride,’” Zelenka said, closing his eyes as though that would help him concentrate. “Probably it would be as well to talk to the engineers, too.”
“Agreed,” Carter said. “So there’s reason to think Teos sabotaged the Pride?”
“One person says so,” Zelenka said.
Lorne nodded. “Yeah. The whole thing was… strange. I’d hold off on saying anything to Mr. Radim until we have some better answers.”
Carter grinned. “I wasn’t planning on calling him just yet, no.” She sobered quickly. “All right. We’ll get on this formula right away. In the meantime, any luck tracking the Pride?”
“We’ve been able to find the trace,” Zelenka said. He glanced at his tablet. “It looks like our next stop will be P2M-230 — another orbital gate, by the way, though if that’s significant, I don’t know how.”
“Keep on it,” Carter said. “And thanks, Major. We’ll definitely keep an eye on Teos.”
~#~
Bartolan climbed to the makeshift gun emplacement on the outer hull just aft of the Pride’s control room, squinting in the bloody sunset light. The creatures were still out there, and their numbers were increasing, from the two they had seen that morning to between eight and ten. There might be more; it was hard to tell one from another, and they’d never seen more than three at one time, but Hajnal had kept patient watch, and would swear to that number.
“Captain.” Miklos, the senior of the gunners, offered a pair of distance glasses, and Bartolan took them, adjusting the focus to sweep the horizon. The sun was nearly down, casting long shadows, but he could make out two of them in a break between two thicker stands of grass. They were much the same size, with heavy heads and forequarters and heads that were wider at the jaw than at the top of the skull. That spoke of a crushing bite, and the thick claws on the forelegs looked just as dangerous. He swung the glasses left — nothing, though the grass shivered oddly — and then back to the right, and saw a third creature emerging from another stand of grass. It opened its mouth, showing a wider range of needle teeth, and then put its nose to the ground, visibly sniffing.
“You see that?” Hajnal said. He had come up so quietly that Bartolan had barely heard him. “They’re following a scent.”
“They can see the camp, surely,” Bartolan said.
“Oh, yes. They don’t like the lights, which I hope means they won’t like the fence, either. But they’re too interested in us for my liking.”
“Suggestions?” Bartolan glanced sideways, and handed the glasses back to Miklos. Hajnal was from the forested districts north of the capital, hardscrabble land where children learned to hunt as soon as they could walk. And to be hunted: those areas always suffered badly when the Wraith culled.
“I think you were right this morning, we should all be sleeping on the ship.” Hajnal lifted his own glasses to his eyes, scanned the horizon again. The sun’s lower limb trembled just above the line of grasses, and Bartolan grimaced. Not much time to carry out that order, but at least Innyes had brought the last of the sick back on board. He stepped to the edge of the hull, cupping his hands to his mouth.
“First Officer! Get everybody who’s been sleeping out back on board. No one who isn’t on watch is to stay outside.”
Agosten raised a hand in answer, and turned away to give the necessary orders. Bartolan moved back toward Hajnal.
“Is our cooking bringing them in? Or is it just us?”
“I don’t think it’s the cooking.” Hajnal shook his head. “They’re acting oddly, or at least not like any predator I’ve ever dealt with before. They’re not a pack, or at least they don’t act like one, but they don’t seem to mind having a number of them together in one place. That’s not usual for solitary hunters.”
“We could just shoot them,” Bartolan said.
“We could.” Hajnal’s tone was doubtful. “But shooting at one of them — and we didn’t even hit it — that seems to be what’s made these others show up. I’m wondering if that liquid we picked up was some kind of scent trace, something for the others to home in on. I’d rather just leave them alone and hope they reciprocate.”
You know better than I do, Bartolan thought, though it wasn’t done for a captain to admit that to his subordinate. Instead, he nodded. “All right. We’ll move back into the Pride and hope that Orsolya finishes her repairs quickly.”
Later, he watched from the top of the Pride as bedding and supplies were hauled up the ramp, and the crew returned reluctantly to their cramped quarters. Hajnal left men in the tower and at the ramp along with the team manning the upper gun, and Bartolan climbed down to meet him as he returned from talking to the group in the tower. The line of fencing seemed to glow brighter, blue-white against the gathering dark, and Hajnal saw where he was looking and nodded.
“I’ve put more energy into the visual spectrum,” he said. “Or what I hope is their visual spectrum. Now that they’re found us, I want to give them a clear warning.”
“That’s a good thought.” Bartolan squinted past the tower. The extra light from the fence made it hard to see what lay
beyond it, though for an instant he thought he saw movement, a shift of shadow just outside the ring of light. A pair of pale dots appeared ten or twelve meters further away, blinked, and vanished again.
“They’re watching,” Hajnal said.
“Is everyone on board?”
“Yes, sir. All hatches are sealed except for the main ramp.”
“Good.” That should be more than enough, Bartolan thought. The creatures were clearly wary of the fence, and there was firepower enough on the tower and in the Pride’s upper gun to keep them at bay.
“Captain?” That was Agosten, stooping under the struts that supported the hatch. “Should we try to drive those things back? Maybe a couple of shots? There seem to be more of them.”
Bartolan could see two sets of eyes — no, four sets, four different sets, and possibly a fifth that winked out as he looked at it, circling toward the ship’s stern. “Are the sensors working?”
“Not yet,” Agosten answered. “Not reliably, anyway.”
Bartolan grimaced. If they could just get a good look at what they were facing, that would help —
“Look.” Hajnal pointed. One of the creatures flowed out of the shadows, its dull gray-brown coat hard to see clearly even in the light from the fence. It moved along the perimeter, following the wires, its wide mouth open as though scenting the air. It was eerily silent, without the snorts and grunts Bartolan had always associated with big predators; it moved smoothly, fading in and out of the grass, and then disappeared entirely. Bartolan let out breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and Agosten swore under his breath.
“Wait,” Hajnal said. He stood braced, his rifle halfway to his shoulder. “Tower! Keep a lookout —“
Before he could finish the order, the creature lunged out of the dark, flinging itself directly at the fence, claws extended and mouth gaping. It struck the fence and fell back, and the gun crew in the tower fired at it, once and then twice. The second shot struck it on the shoulder, and it leaped back into the grass, giving voice to a single honking cry like the call of a seabird.
“That’s taught it a lesson,” Agosten said.
Bartolan looked at Hajnal, who was still staring out into the dark. The eyes were still there, flat silver disks winking in and out, and he shook his head. “Let’s hope so.”
CHAPTER NINE
LADON RADIM MADE his way down the steps that led to the Plaza, Ambrus at his back. The knot of women was still there, no larger than it had been, but no smaller, either; he thought some of the faces had changed, but others he recognized as having been there from the beginning. There were a few men with them too, one elderly man who had been given a chair next to the pregnant girl — and whose sandy, freckled face was enough like hers that he had to be a kinsman, plus a couple of young men barely out of their adolescence. That was unexpected, and he made a mental note to have Elek look into them once he got back to work, then focussed on the gathering.
“Grandmother. Ladies.” He got the usual uneasy murmur in answer, and hurried on. “I’m afraid I have only negative news for you this morning. The Lantean search on Inhalt also came up empty.” Someone toward the back moaned at that, and several of the woman in the front exchanged unhappy glances. Ladon lifted his hand. “We are not giving up, and neither are the Lanteans. This merely means we must keep looking elsewhere.”
“But where?” That was the old man, brushing away the pregnant girl’s hand on his sleeve. “It seems to me we’re running out of places to look, and there’s still nothing.”
“Or we’re getting closer to an answer,” Ladon said, with a wry smile. One or two of them answered it, and he sobered quickly. “There are only a finite number of worlds where the Pride could have landed. We’ll search every one of them.”
“Can we trust the Lanteans?” That was one of the older women, in civilian clothes now with a kerchief over her graying hair, but she wore the pin that indicated she had seen thirty years’ service in one of the administrative offices, and Ladon gave her a respectful nod.
“I believe we can, at least in this instance. They need us to support their plan for the Wraith, and we can and will take advantage of that.”
“But it’s been so long!” A young woman shouldered closer to the front, her eyes puffy from weeping. “If they crashed, if they were injured — if they were forced down on a hostile world, or trapped in orbit with no air — Can’t we move faster?“
“If we can, we will,” Ladon said. “We are throwing all our resources into it. There are thirty scout teams currently searching, and more readying to be sent, as we narrow down the possibilities. And I will not lie to you, it is possible that the Pride has been destroyed. It is possible that some or all of her crew are dead. That is the price we have always paid for progress. But we don’t know that. All we know is that she is missing.”
“Send more scouts,” someone said, and there was a murmur of agreement.
“We’re doing that,” Ladon answered. “Five more teams are going out today.”
“Cant’t they work faster?”
“Our kin could be hurt — could be dying —“
“There are doctors on the Pride,” Ladon said. “She is well-equipped —“
“Not well enough!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Ladon could see Ambrus’s hand creeping toward the pistol concealed in his tunic pocket, and willed him to wait. “We are doing everything we can,” he said again, raising his voice slightly to cut through the unhappy muttering. “And we are keeping you informed, and we’ll continue to do so. Also, I remind you, you are welcome to take your meals at the commissary —“
Someone lunged at him out of the crowd, and he twisted aside, the young man’s knife ripping the belt of his tunic. Ambrus shouted for reinforcements and drew his pistol, dancing back to try to get a clear shot. Ladon dodged another sweeping attack, stepped under the young man’s next attempt, and caught him by wrist and shoulder. He twisted, and the knife clattered to the stones of the street; he brought the young man’s arm up and back and drove him to his knees.
“Ambrus. Call off the guard.”
“Chief?”
“Hold them back.” Ladon stared down at the young man, seeing tears of pain and fury in the corners of his eyes. Did they really think he couldn’t handle something like this? Had they forgotten he had been part of Kolya’s elite strike force? Adrenaline coursed through him, and he shook the young man, not gently. “Your name.”
“Jani. Jani Geza.”
“Whose idea was this?”
“Mine.” That was a girl’s voice, and a young woman shouldered her way to the front, her eyes wide. “Chief, please, it’s not his fault, it’s all my doing…” She trailed off, seeing no doubt rifles pointed at her, and Ladon eased his grip slightly.
“And you are?”
“Pri Denzo. My father is on the Pride. Jani —“
“I want to marry her,” the young man said, defiant in spite of being pressed against the stones, his arm grinding in its socket.
“I said I wouldn’t — I said I couldn’t while Father was lost —” Her voice faltered, and Ladon sighed.
“And you said a lot more, I imagine. I think I can guess, no need to repeat it.” Not before witnesses, he added silently, and saw her face go white and then scarlet. His guess was right, then: she had railed about revenge and betrayal and Jani, who couldn’t be more than seventeen, had tried to fulfill her wishes.
“Yes, Chief.”
Ladon looked at her, and then down at the young man. They were mountain folk, by their clothes, the sort of people he’d grown up among, small towns that mixed hard-bitten hunters and climbers with the calculators and low-level scientists who supported the laboratories dug into the heights. “Where are you from?”
The young man started to twist to look up at him, and stopped abruptly, gasping with pain.
“Arrann,” Pri said. “It’s in the Mirrat —“
“I know it,” Ladon said. “I was stationed there
when I was a calculator.” He hadn’t been there more than six months before he was promoted, but it was not a lie.
“Chief,” Ambrus said again.
“Later,” Ladon said. “You know the penalty for raising arms against the Chief of the Genii.”
Pri ducked her head, and Jani managed to whisper, “Yes.”
“That penalty can be commuted if you tell me who put you up to this.”
“No one,” Jani said. “No one, I swear, it was all my idea. Pri had no idea —“
“That’s not true,” Pri said. “It was me, I cursed and complained and he just wanted to impress me. It’s not Jani’s fault.”
“And no one suggested that killing me might get the Pride back?” Ladon asked.
Pri shook her head, tears spilling over her cheeks. “No, Chief. It was — I was stupid.”
Ladon sighed. “You two. You know you can’t stay in the capital after what you just did.”
“N-no.” Pri’s voice wavered, and she controlled herself with an effort.
“Ambrus. Collect an armed escort and put these two on the next transport to the Mirrat. Get them tickets all the way to Arrann and send someone with them to make sure they go there. Oh, and make sure they’re fed on the way.” Ladon released his hold on Jani and stepped back. The young man staggered to his feet, stood cradling his arm and shoulder while Pri clapped her hands over her mouth. “You’ll be kept informed along with everyone else.”
“Chief —“” Jani shook his head, unable to speak, and Ladon waved him away.
“Chief,” Ambrus said. “Are you sure?”
“I wouldn’t be giving you orders if I weren’t,” Ladon answered. “Now, get on with it. We have work to do.”
~#~
Orsolya slept badly even in the protection of the ship, dreaming about the creatures outside who randomly morphed into the tigrids that stalked the southern islands where she had been born. In the morning, she dragged herself out of bed and managed to collect a beaker of tea from the crowded mess room before she made her way forward to the control room. The console that controlled both the sensors and the communications system was open, Katalon and Denzo sitting on the floorboards beside it, Denzo with his hands deep inside the trays of crystal. Katalon hauled herself to her feet and did something to the console, saying,”Watch yourself.”
Stargate Atlantis #24 Page 18