“I have not seen many signs of fires,” Teyla said, “but there seem to be so few species aboveground that I would tend to agree with you.”
“Can we botanize later?” John asked. “McKay. How long before the fires reach the Pride?”
“I’d say about two hours. It’s not picking up speed yet.”
“Even with this wind?” The jumper rocked under them as if to emphasize John’s words.
“The fire is making its own weather,” McKay said. “I’m not expecting it to increase, at least not yet.”
Let’s hope it stays that way, John thought. “Good. Let the Pride know we’re on our way.”
The light was fading as they circled the Pride, and both Jumper Three and the Genii had rigged exterior lamps to illuminate their work. Genii technicians were disconnecting the hose that joined the two ships as Lorne trotted over. John lowered the ramp, and Lorne ducked inside.
“We’ve just finished getting our water aboard the Pride. Do you want to do the same, or would it be better to keep that in reserve to wet down the grass around here?”
“Good question.” John chewed his lip again, considering. “What does Fredek say about their progress?”
“They’re not talking to us,” Lorne said. “Which — either they’re too busy, or they’re having problems we can’t help them with.”
Three hours, Orsolya said. That was going to be cutting it close. Maybe it would be better to damp down the area around the Pride, try to create an area that wouldn’t burn, or wouldn’t catch immediately. John glanced out the windshield again, seeing a tongue of flame leap suddenly up into the low smoke. “Let me talk to Fredek. See what he wants to do.” He levered himself out of the pilot’s chair. “Both of you — McKay, Major — be ready to jump if things start getting bad. The Pride can ride this out if she has to.”
There was a trio of guards at the foot of the Pride’s ramp, and two more at the top, along with Agosten, the Pride’s first officer. John made his way up the ramp, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that came with being around quite so many armed Genii, and Agosten nodded a greeting.
“Colonel. That’s not looking good.”
“It looks worse close up,” John answered. “Dr. McKay thinks we have about an hour and a half before it gets here.”
“Orsolya says the same thing,” Agosten said, and dredged up a wry smile. “When she isn’t cursing at us to get out of her way. I’m guessing you want the captain?”
“Yeah. Please.” Something floated past John’s face, and he swatted at it before he realized it was a piece of ash.
“Control room, I think,” Agosten said. “I’ll take you there.”
John followed him down the Pride’s central corridor — the air was better here, as though they’d gotten a filter field in place — and found Fredek just outside the control room door, listening to the doctor, Innyes. He held up a hand as they approached and Agosten obediently paused; Innyes nodded, and turned away, a clipboard tucked under her arm.
“Colonel Sheppard! What news on the fires?”
“They’re still burning,” John answered. “And still heading straight for us. We were able to take on a full load of water. Do you want us to transfer it to you, or we could use it to damp down the area around the ship.”
Fredek looked at his first officer. “Agosten?”
“If Innyes says we have enough to get us to a safer world, I think we should wet down the area. Maybe even if it’s not enough.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the look of this, sir. It’s worse than the hill fires in Cotusan.”
Fredek made a face. “Orsolya says she needs every minute of the next hour. Dump the water, please, Colonel. Let’s see if we can buy her more time.”
“Will do,” John said, and headed back to the jumper.
Outside, the ash was falling even more heavily now, fluffy gray sheets the size of his palm that disintegrated at his touch. Lorne had moved Jumper Three so that the two ships sat side by side, facing the oncoming flames and he and Zelenka and the young Marine, Peebles, were talking to Ronon and Teyla at the bottom of the jumper’s ramp.
“John.” A wisp of ash brushed Teyla’s cheek, and she scrubbed it away. “Is there progress?”
“They’re working on it,” he answered, knowing he sounded evasive. “Fredek says he wants us to wet down the area. Any ideas how we should do that?”
“I have been working on that,” Zelenka said. “It is not optimal — the jumpers want to drop their entire loads all at once, which is not so useful — but I have isolated the valve, and Rodney thinks he has persuaded the jumper’s system to open it only part of the way. You will get one, maybe two passes, though. Nothing more.”
“Maybe a little more,” McKay said, looking out from the top of the ramp. “But I’ve got some bad news. The fire’s speeded up — not much, it’s only twelve kilometers an hour instead of ten, but that means it’s going to be here sooner than we planned.”
“Do you want us to try to get more water?” Lorne asked. ”We can’t pull a full tank, but we could get some.”
“There’s not time,” Zelenka said, and McKay nodded.
“Zelenka’s right. Besides the fire’s closer to the lake than it is to us.”
John bit his lip. “Ok, Major. Give Captain Fredek the bad news, and then get Jumper Three in the air. Make sure there aren’t any fires jumping ahead of the main line. We’ll handle the water drop.”
“Yes, sir,” Lorne answered, and they climbed the ramps into their jumpers.
Inside, it smelled strongly of smoke, with an odd, acrid undertone that smelled like burning plastic. Probably some resin in the grass, John thought, and strapped himself into the pilot’s chair. “McKay. Zelenka said you’d figured out how to control the drop?”
“Well. More or less. Though I have to point out that what makes this sort of thing work is volume, a lot more water than we have —“
“It’s not like we can get more,” John answered, and the jumper rose under his hand.
From the air, the fire was even more impressive, stretching now almost all the way across the horizon. The sun had fallen below the clouds of smoke, and the fire crawled toward them like lava running across a hillside. Here and there a taller stand of grass exploded into flames, sending up sparks like an explosion, and more ash flattened itself against the jumper’s windshield. Jumper Three’s boxy shape was silhouetted against the smoke as though it was riding on a river of flame.
John shook himself. Where to dump the water: that was the question, how to make the best use of their limited resources. If he started at the Pride’s nose, running maybe fifty, seventy-five feet above the hull, he could soak her, and an area behind her, then turn back and use the last of the water to soak the Pride a second time. Water falling on the Pride should wet down the grass on either side, though he was less and less convinced that it would be enough to keep the grass from burning. Maybe a firebreak would have been better — but they didn’t have the tools or the time, and he put the idea out of his mind.
“McKay. I’m going to start just ahead of the Pride, come right over her, then try to widen out and make a bigger barrier at her stern. Then I’ll come back over the Pride. Can we do that?”
“Maybe. How fast are you going?”
“How fast to I need to go?” John countered, and received an exasperated stare.
“That’s so not how this works.” McKay stopped. “Well, actually, I suppose it is. Give me a minute.” His fingers flew over his keyboard, sketching numbers. “Ok. If you can keep your speed to sixty, there should be enough water to cover everything. What I can’t promise is whether that’ll stop the fire.”
“Pride of the Genii, this is Jumper One,” John said, and waited for the acknowledgement. “Better get everybody inside the hull, we’re getting ready to drop.”
“Confirmed,” the Pride answered, and John caught a glimpse of the Genii guards scrambling for shelter.
He swung the jumper back over
the Pride’s bow, turning to line up on the ship’s broad nose. “You said sixty, McKay?”
“Sixty,” McKay agreed.
“Sixty it is.” John slowed the jumper, feeling the inertial fields ramp up to keep the jumper in the air, and brought them down until they were barely fifty feet above the Pride’s hull. “Ok, McKay, let her rip.”
The jumper shuddered as the tank’s dump valve opened, shuddered again as McKay managed to hold it halfway open, and John checked his speed, goosing the power to bring the jumper back up to speed. At this height and speed, it was more than ever like flying a helicopter, holding a steady line and a steady speed while the water rumbled through the valve. They crossed the Pride’s stern, and John swung deliberately wide, tracing a double arc, soaking the grass before he turned back to cover the Pride again. He felt the water run out before they crossed back over the bow, but at least they had managed one solid pass. He turned back, looking for a place to put the jumper down again, and saw Jumper Three flying toward them out of the smoke, its headlights tracing cones in the smoke. Behind it, the fire had grown, the flames leaping almost twice as high as the grass that burned.
“I do not like the look of that,” Teyla said. “That was not so much water — John, I’m afraid it won’t be enough.”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t have to be,” John answered, and reached for the radio.
~#~
Orsolya slid the last of the newly-spliced wires into its connector, locked it, and pressed the connector home. Even inside the ship, she could smell the smoke, but shoved that fear away. All she could do right now was focus on the repairs, concentrate on making each fix right the first time. Two more wires slotted home, and she moved to the crystal tray below them, easing it out with finicking care. There were no spares left; each of the remaining crystal’s positions had been charted with no room for error, and if one of them cracked now — She made herself stop, arrange herself more securely against the edge of the console, and take two deep breaths to steady herself before she began to rearrange the undamaged crystals. These two here, a gap for a broken crystal, another good one, two empty slots… And then they were all in place, and she slid the tray carefully back into its spot.
“Denzo. Go ahead.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She heard a click, and the crystals began to glow — not as brightly as she had expected, but then, they were only at stand-by power. “Good. Shut it down.”
“Shutting down,” Denzo answered, and the light died.
Orsolya shoved herself out from under the console, her eyes drawn in spite of herself to the images on the main screen. The fire was coming closer, only a few leagues away now; the visual spectrum displays were hazed by smoke and falling ash. And not just ash. She caught her breath as a spark whirled past the ship, and winked out just before it hit the ground. She made herself look away, reaching for the clipboard that contained her plans for rewiring the controls. This was the last of the major consoles, and she reached for the intercom.
“Katalon. Progress?”
“Just finished, ma’am,” Katalon answered, and Orsolya allowed herself a gasp of relief.
“Excellent. Well done, Kata. Stand by, we’ll be lifting soon.”
The control room hatch slid open as she spoke, and she turned to see Bartolan framed in the opening.
“Well?”
Orsolya grinned. “We’re ready to go, Captain.”
She saw his shoulders relax, and realized for the first time that he had been just as afraid as any of them. “Good.” He moved toward the captain’s chair, placed his hand on the intercom switch. “Control room crew, report.”
They filed in as Orsolya finished the last adjustments, settling themselves at their stations as she took her place at the engineer’s console. She laid her hand on the connective gel, willing the ship to answer, and felt nothing. She froze, unable to believe what she was feeling, then looked wildly around to see that the others were having the same problem. Jokska, the chief pilot, lifted and settled his hand as though that would change things; the lights on her own console stayed stubbornly at stand-by.
“Engineer?” Bartolan said.
“Working on it.” She closed her mind to everything but the problem in front of her, asking the ship for diagnostics, for any kind of contact — No, she thought. No, we can’t have lost the initialization. But that was what it looked like, that somehow she’d let the initialization lapse, and she would have to wake all the systems herself — She reached for the intercom. “Katalon. Are your systems initialized?”
“No!” Katalon’s voice was sharp with fear. “They were, they were fine, we were ready, and then they just winked out —“
“Stand by.” Orsolya turned to face the captain. “We have to reinitialize the ship — wake it up the way we did when we first got it. Can you — can anyone here who had an artificial gene make a connection?”
There was a sudden silence, sharp as fear. Bartolan said, “I can’t. None of us can.” His voice was admirably steady. “How long will it take?”
“Give me a minute.” Orsolya forced herself to consider the problem calmly. Three of them had the natural ATA gene, but Innyes was a doctor, unfamiliar with the ship’s systems. Esztli was a navigator; he could reestablish contact with the control room systems in a pinch, but a pilot would be better, could mesh more deeply with the ship, just as she could wake the engines faster than anyone else on board… “We need one of the Lanteans, Sheppard or Lorne, they’ve both flown the Pride. If one of them can wake the control room, I can handle the engines.”
“Why can’t Esztli do it?” Agosten demanded, and Bartolan waved him to silence.
“Go,” he said, to Orsolya. “I’ll contact the Lanteans.”
~#~
“Jumper One, this is the Pride of the Genii.” Bartolan’s voice came clearly over the speaker, and John gave it a wary look. “We have a problem.”
“Of course they do,” McKay said, not quite under his breath.
“This is Jumper One,” John said. Through the windshield, he could see the fire advancing, what had been a glowing line now grown to a wall of flames under smoke blacker than night. “What’s the problem, Captain?”
“We’ve lost initialization,” Fredek answered. “We need someone who knows the systems to initialize the control room.”
“I thought you had people with the natural gene,” McKay said.
“I have three.” Fredek’s voice was tight. “One is my doctor, one is a junior navigator, and my engineer is busy with her own systems. Colonel Sheppard, you’ve flown the Pride, and so has Major Lorne. Either of you can do this faster than my people can. Please. Help us.”
John bit his lip. Embers were falling from the sky, little gouts of flame that winked out as they hit the ground. Here and there, an ember glowed brighter, struggling for purchase in the heavy grass. Fredek was right, of course, either he or Lorne could probably get the Pride up and running before the Genii could get the system to cooperate — they had more experience with Ancient systems in general, and with the Pride in particular; it was practically his speciality to coax weird Ancient machinery back to life.
“No,” McKay said. “No, no, no, that’s a terrible idea. You said it yourself, they’ll be fine even if they can’t lift.” His voice faltered, looked at the oncoming flames. “Well, they should be.”
John looked over his shoulder at Teyla, saw the same thought in her eyes.
“If you are going, you must go now,” she said.
John nodded. “Yeah.” He freed himself from his safety harness and grabbed his P90 before McKay could form a coherent protest.
“I’m going with you,” Ronon said.
“Not necessary.” John slung the P90 on his chest, and reached for the door controls.
“Yeah, it is,” Ronon said. “There’s a saboteur on that ship. You need someone to watch your back.”
“Ronon is right,” Teyla said.
John worked the interior contro
ls to lower the ramp, letting in a blast of hot, smoky air. “Pride, this is Jumper One. We’re coming to you.” He cut the connection without waiting for an answer, and looked over his shoulder. “Once we’re on board, McKay, you and Lorne lift. We’ll be right behind you.”
“You’d better be,” McKay said.
John dropped onto the grass without waiting for an answer, Ronon at his shoulder. The air was thick enough to chew; he put his hand over his mouth, wishing he’d thought to bring some kind of mask, and imagined he could feel ash between his molars. Ash drifted overhead like small gray clouds, smearing his skin where they touched him. Ahead, the grass was smoldering, and he stamped hastily on it before Ronon shoved him on.
“You can’t stop this.”
Ronon was right again, though it felt wrong to jump the little fires without at least trying to do something about them. At least the water seemed to be helping: most of the flames sputtered and went out. He could feel the heat behind him, the hot wind rushing over him, smearing ash into his hair.
The Pride’s hatch was open, but they hadn’t extended the ramp. One of the Genii gunners offered a hand, and John took it, let himself be hauled up, Ronon right behind him.
“Straight to the control room, please, sir,” another of the gunners said, and John hurried down the main corridor.
The control room was more crowded than he’d seen it, every station occupied. The main viewscreens were lit, as were many of the console’s smaller displays, but even at a distance John could feel that the ship was remote, unresponsive. Fredek rose to his feet as the hatch closed behind them.
“Choose your station, Colonel.”
John bit his lip, considering. Captain’s chair or pilot’s, those were the only two that made sense, and he’d want direct access to the flight controls. “Pilot’s. Captain.”
“Joska,” Fredek said, and a graying man promptly relinquished the pilot’s chair.
John took his place, reaching with one hand for the connective gel. In the main screen, he could see the jumpers lifting, rising smoothly away from the fire; behind them, the flames seemed closer, brighter, and he swallowed the instinctive fear. Hello, sweetheart, he said, letting his fingers sink into the gel. Come on, baby, time to wake up. For a long moment, nothing happened. He could feel the ship’s presence, but at a distance, as though it was thinking of something else, so focused on it that it could barely hear him. Sweetheart. Avenger. Pay attention, we need you. Something stirred, a thread of awareness turning toward him, and he pulled it to him. We’re in trouble, baby, we need you, you have to wake up now. You have to let us in…
Stargate Atlantis #24 Page 25