by Martha Wells
The half-light was like daylight to John's altered eyes, and he could see there were six dead Koan scattered at various points down the hallway. It was probably lucky that Dorane was using the Koan for cannon fodder so far, obviously meaning to save expedition personnel for experiments.
John took a long step forward and, without glancing back, said, "Bye, guys," and told the door to close.
It slid shut, leaving the Koan on the other side.
He studied the corridor again, making out a wet area about midway along, and something further down that looked like a car battery that had been blasted to bits with gunfire. John would bet that the car battery object was a decoy; this corridor had been booby-trapped by desperate and frightened men and women, some of whom had been able to build atomic bombs by the time they were twelve. There was no way he was going down there, not even in rubber-soled boots.
Maybe that was the game Dorane was playing; he had sent John down here to be accidentally killed by his own people.
John turned left instead, taking the side corridor toward the outer ring of this section. He knew it would be easier to get to the medlab from the level above through some access passages in the floors, but he didn't want the Koan to twig to that. Dorane obviously didn't know about it, or he would have tried it by now.
Even though Dorane had lived here with the Ancients for a time, they had probably never had to send people to crawl around in the floors replacing fried crystal conduit, with Kavanagh and Simpson debating the right procedure and giving contradictory instructions via headset radio, with the added attractions of McKay berating them between bouts of claustrophobia and Miko having to be retrieved from where her pants had gotten caught on a support brace. The Ancients probably had robots or genetically-trained sea monkeys or something to do those little jobs for them.
The next doorway was quarantine-sealed and stubbornly refused to respond to the wall console or ATA coaxing, but John fiddled the crystals the way McKay had shown him. As the door started to slide open, John got the sunglasses on, wincing. Even though the sky was starting to redden into sunset, the glare off the water was still bright enough to blind him.
Outside, his back to Atlantica's endless sea and the cool evening breeze ruffling his hair, John sized up the expanse of city wall looming above him. There were tiny little ledges and arching girders that formed a decorative roof over all the balconies. The open platform he thought he had remembered was there, up one level and over to the side. It was the `over to the side part' that was going to be tricky. It would have been crazy to try this without the claws; they would give him just enough extra purchase to make it possible. Sort of possible.
John stepped up on the railing, balancing easily. A long way down, waves washed up against the platforms and supports at the tower's foot. He knew his own weight and the approximate distance down, so it was hard not to automatically calculate the velocity he would reach by the time he hit the base. Right. Here goes. He caught a handhold in the decorative embossing, and wedged a boot into the junction where the girder met the wall, and hauled himself up.
CHAPTER TEN
odney really, really didn't see a way out of this. Watched .carefully by the Koan, he was forced to follow Dorane, two Marines, and Ford to the naquadah generator that powered the lower center section of the city, including the medlab. Rodney had tried to steer Dorane toward one of the generators for the other sections, but Dorane hadn't gone for that.
Part of him was wondering how much of the system Zelenka had trashed while sealing off the medlab. As Rodney knew very well, there was nothing like the threat of certain death to inspire speed and creativity. Between the damage Dorane and the Koan had caused, and the damage Zelenka and the others had done trying to stop them, it would probably take a month to repair everything. If they got out of this alive. Rodney groaned mentally, wishing an insane repair schedule was his only problem.
If the power was completely cut, the doors on the medlab level could be pried open manually. Rodney knew that was where Dorane had sent a large number of the Koan and several of the expedition's military personnel that he had under his control, ready to move in.
In the lead, Ford took the last turn in the corridor, reaching the doorway to the generator room. A cardboard sign with the words 'stay out' and a badly-drawn skull and crossbones had been stuck on the wall next to it with sticky tape. At the time Rodney had thought the symbolism was a nice touch; now it was all too appropriate. Even if some of the expedition members escaped into the unexplored sections and managed to evade Dorane, how were they going to survive with the city a dead powerless hulk? And Rodney didn't suppose Dorane would be stupid enough to leave any jumpers behind.
The door slid open to reveal a dimly-lit five-sided room with antique gold walls and burnished copper trim, colors that suggested an upscale restaurant more than they did a main access point to the city's power grid. Unless you were Ancient, apparently. There were three other sealed doors, all corridor accesses, and the naquadah generator sat near the center. It was small for something so powerful, positioned on a low pallet and connected into Atlantis' system through the access points in the floor and wall panels. Dorane eyed it with an expression Rodney could only interpret as skepticism, asking Kavanagh, "Is that it?"
"Yes," Kavanagh said, as bland as if they were discussing the weather. "That's the generator."
Rodney eyed him sharply. He told Dorane, "You shouldn't have killed Kolesnikova. She knew more about naquadah power generation than Kavanagh could ever learn."
"I could control Kavanagh," Dorane replied easily, as if it was nothing. "She had your gene retrovirus."
Rodney had wondered if Dorane had ordered Kavanagh to kill Irina. But that sounded as if he had done it himself.
Rodney remembered thinking once that it was bizarrely unfair that Sheppard and Carson and the others had come by the gene naturally, just because they had promiscuous ancestors who must have been lining up at the proverbial dock the day the Ancients had landed on Earth. And it had been a huge relief when the ATA therapy had worked for Rodney. Now it was going to get all of them killed in a horrible way, and that was just typical.
"You know why we're here. Prepare it for transport." Dorane looked at Kavanagh. "Bring the tools. Make sure he uses only the correct ones needed for the job at hand."
Rodney looked down at the generator, grimacing. He had put so much work into getting these things to mesh with the city's more advanced systems; taking it out was really going to hurt. At least he could do it slowly and blame the low emergency lighting. "I assume you want it intact, and not in burnt-out pieces, so it's going to take some time since I can barely see what I'm doing."
"That can be remedied," Dorane told him, his expression bland.
Rodney threw him a wary look, not sure if he meant a flashlight or a little genetic adjustment. Except for the lights on the P-90s, which the men weren't using because of the Koan, nobody seemed to be carrying a flashlight. He said stiffly, "I'll make do."
Kavanagh brought a tool case over and opened it. Rodney glared at him, but Kavanagh's normally annoying face was blank, just like the Marines and Ford. Rodney selected the screwdriver needed to get the generator's panels open, holding it out to Kavanagh for inspection. Kavanagh nodded, and Rodney sneered, saying, "I'm not quite insane enough to blow this thing up with me standing over it." Not yet, anyway. If they got to the fifth generator and Sheppard still hadn't shown up, Rodney knew he might rethink that position. For all he knew, Dorane's genetic tampering had finally run its course and Sheppard was already lying dead in one of the corridors.
Dorane watched him get the panels off the generator's access points, and it made the back of Rodney's neck sweat. He flinched when Dorane said suddenly, "I am only just realizing how apt my earlier comment was about the city being fit only for scavengers. Your technology is cobbled together from many different sources, is it not? You weren't lying about coming here from another galaxy."
I'm only just rea
lizing how apt my earlier comment was about you being a serial killer. Rodney said flatly, "No, we weren't lying." Dorane seemed to know the Ancient systems fairly well, but it was the interfaces with Earth-based computers and technology that baffled him. Considering how much of it was a hybrid mix of Terran, Goa'uld, Asgard, and Ancient, it probably wasn't surprising that Dorane didn't understand it. Or us.
"You did not know of the Wraith, when you came here to loot Atlantis? I suppose your Lantian ancestors did not bother to pass along the story of their defeat."
Rodney set his jaw, barely managing to stifle his first knee jerk reply. He knew Dorane wanted him to assert the expedition's right to the city, based on Earth's inheritance from the Ancients. Guess what? You're the only person with an ATA gene handy, and he wants an excuse to torture you. He said only, "We didn't know."
Dorane continued to watch him from what Rodney thought was way too close a distance, but didn't reply. Rodney tried to focus his attention on the delicate maze of circuitry inside the generator's connection panel and ignore the lingering painful death that was in his immediate future.
In his more optimistic moments, of which there were few, Rodney had imagined what things would be like if they ended up staying here forever, or at least all lived long enough to die of natural causes. Somehow in that scenario, Sheppard had still been here too, though God knew after years of crash landings, head injuries, and Wraith stunner attacks he would probably have even more impulse-control issues than... Of course, Rodney thought with a sudden surge of hope. He leaned down over the connecting conduit to conceal his expression. Now he knew what the plan was.
He just hoped Sheppard was still alive to carry it out.
The climb was an intense few minutes, but John was able to make the other balcony without dying. From there he went to the corridor just above the one that approached the medlab from the outer wing of the city, then found the correct floor access panel. He pried it open and crawled through the floor to find the ceiling panel that would open inside the quarantine-sealed area, on the opposite side of the medlab from the booby-trapped corridor of death that led from the center stair shaft.
The floor space was just as cramped as he remembered it, and much warmer. Not to mention airless, he thought, wriggling past the layers of conduit. When they had had people working down here, McKay had managed to deflect the return air for the circulating system through this passage, and John hadn't realized what a difference it made. It was also much noisier this time, with the sounds from the ATA growing into a painfully incessant clamor. By the time he reached the ceiling panel, John was gritting his teeth and having unpleasant flashbacks to the repository.
He hung upside down out of the ceiling for a moment, just glad to be able to take a full breath, checking the copper-colored floor for suspicious objects and substances. He had been hoping this corridor would be clear, that Beckett's group had planned to retreat down it if the medlab was compromised. Not seeing anything indicative of traps, he unfolded himself out of the narrow panel and dropped to the floor. The door to the rear area of the medlab area was around the next corner, and it was sealed tight.
John listened at it for a moment and heard muffled voices. He pounded on the door and called, "Hey, can anybody hear me in there? It's Sheppard."
After a moment he heard, "Major Sheppard?" It was Beckett's voice, incredulous and so relieved John could barely understand him through the slurring vowels. "Radek, get over here and open this thing, it's Sheppard!"
"Wait, wait," John said hastily. This could be awkward. "Guys, listen to me. When you open the door, I want you to remember that it's me. Don't freak out and most importantly, don't shoot me. Okay?"
There was silence from the other side of the door. John could practically feel Zelenka and Beckett exchanging a look. Then Zelenka's voice said, warily, "Okay."
The door slid open, revealing one of the main medlab bays. It was as dimly lit as the rest of Atlantis, with storage cases and wire-framed supply racks standing against the soft copper and silver metallic walls. Then Beckett cautiously peered around one side of the door. He stared, blinked, and said, "Oh, dear."
"What?" Zelenka peered around the other side of the door, holding a 9mm. His eyes widened, and he gasped, "Kurva drkt." He grabbed John by the front of his shirt and dragged him into the room.
John hit the wall console to seal the door again, and Zelenka stepped back, staring at him, gesturing helplessly. "WhatWhat-?"
"What-?" Beckett echoed, then took John's wrist, turning his hand over so the claws were visible. "Holy crap. What in the hell did they do to you, boy?"
Covering the door were Ramirez and Audley, members of Bates' security detail, both carrying P-90s. Ramirez managed to keep his face blank, but Audley looked like he was having one of those Pegasus Galaxy moments where you had to keep doing your job but all you really wanted was a little time to freak out. John sympathized; he had been having one for the past day and a half John said, "Dorane did this. It's a genetic retrovirus mutation thing. Rodney thinks-"
"Rodney's alive too?" Beckett demanded.
"Oh yeah, Rodney's fine. Sort of He-" In the center section of the medical area where the diagnostic tables and beds were, he caught sight of Dr. Biro and several of the other medical personnel, as well as Dr. Sharpe, Miko, and a dozen or so others from the science team. Everybody was staring at John in consternation. Then a familiar figure shouldered a way through the crowd and John forgot about anything else. "Bates, what the hell are you doing here?" he demanded, furious. "Who's with Elizabeth?"
Bates had had his mouth open, probably to say something about how John should be held at gunpoint until they could find out why he looked like that, but John's irate question derailed that completely. "I don't know, Major," he said, his jaw set. "When they took the `gate room, I was down on this level and I got cut off." He hadn't been patrolling or getting ready to go off world, so the only weapon he had was his sidearm.
"Oh, that's just fantastic!" John pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, trying for calm. "So she's up there holding off a bunch of Koan and our guys with what, three techs and a laptop?"
Bates controlled a wince. "Dr. Simpson is with her-"
Simpson was another expert on Ancient technology, and she must be the one keeping the door sealed against Dorane. But that didn't make John feel any better. "Oh good, Elizabeth is being defended by another one of the civilians we're supposed to be protecting. Does something seem wrong with that picture, Bates? It's children, scientists, and diplomats first, did you not get the memo on that?"
Zelenka gestured impatiently. "Shout at Bates later! Tell us what happened now! Where is Rodney?"
John took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Coming unglued at Bates didn't help, though it had made John feel better for about a minute. Bates' dark face was suffused with anger, Ramirez looked guilty, and Audley looked relieved, but then John had probably seemed a lot more like his normal self yelling at Bates than he had when he had first come into the room. "Rodney's with Dorane. The only way we could get back here from the repository was for me to pretend this retrovirus worked better on me than Dorane thought it would, that I wanted to help him take over the city."
Zelenka put his pistol down on a shelf to rub his eyes under his glasses. His face set grimly, Beckett explained, "When the bastard first got here, he told us you were both gone, that you'd been taken by Wraith. We thought- Well, you know what we thought."
Zelenka looked up, his eyes hard. "It was very affecting story, lots of detail. Rodney trapped by the Wraith and you going after him, only to be caught yourself"
"Later, when everything went to hell, we figured he had killed you both," Beckett added. "And just what is he up to? What has he done to Ford and Kavanagh and the others?"
John explained, "He used a drug, something that works on people like the ATA works on Ancient tech. Or at least that's what he said; he lies a lot. Teyla said he was in her head, and she had to do what he told
her, and we don't think Kavanagh even knew he was infected until Dorane started giving him orders. It doesn't work so well on people who have the Ancient gene or the ATA therapy-that's why he killed Kolesnikova and Boerne." John flexed the set of claws Beckett was still examining, adding grimly, "I got the special."
Beckett swore. "I knew that damn gene would cause no end of trouble."
His face drawn, Zelenka shook his head. "That is... interesting problem. Interesting in the `oh God' way." He gestured vaguely. "Does Rodney have little silver things too?"
"No, Rodney's normal-well, he's Rodney."
Beckett shook his head, his incredulous expression turning thoughtful. He took John's chin and turned his head so he could look at his ear. "What are these spines for? Antennae?"
John pulled away. "I have no idea, except it makes the Ancient technology seem a lot more interactive." Deciding it would be quicker to demonstrate than to try to explain, he nodded to a set of utilitarian metal shelves, incongruous against the smooth copper Atlantean wall panel. "That box there, on the bottom. In it there's five of those little portable medical scanners. No, wait, there's six. One...has a cracked control crystal." He had almost said "one says it has a cracked control crystal" but he didn't want to look that deranged, at least not in front of Bates.
Beckett and Zelenka stared at him. Zelenka muttered, "God, this would happen in middle of emergency."
"Oh yeah, it would have been so much fun if this happened without the invasion of the city and the whole helpless mindcontrolled slaves bit." John conquered his irritation and continued, "Look, you guys have to figure out a way to stop the mindcontrol, because I'm stumped." He turned to Bates. From what John could figure, they had one asset that Dorane wouldn't know about. "He's got a group of our people locked in that meeting room at the end of the south hall on the lower operations level. I need you to take Audley and Ramirez and get the Wraith stunners out of the armory, then take out the men guarding the door and get our people the hell out of there. I'll show you where the floor access is so you can get out of the medlab corridor without alerting the Koan. After that you're on your own; I have to go back to Dorane before he gets any more suspicious than he already is." It was there that the plan got really vague again, but he wasn't going to mention that aloud.