In a moment General Hammond came down the stairs from the conference room above, Major Carter with him grinning broadly. O’Neill followed, his uniform still soaked with stage blood.
“It was a test,” Ford said flatly.
“Welcome to the SGC,” Hammond said, and shook each of their hands. “Well done.”
They’d done eight months of training, some of it in the field on alien worlds, and then Laura had gotten a plum slot on SG-12. Ford had gotten the Atlantis expedition. She’d cried when he’d been listed MIA a year later. And six days later she’d been told she was going to Atlantis on Daedalus to take his place.
Laura followed Carter through the corridors of the Hammond, waited while she opened her door. Please don’t let me wash out, she thought fervently. Not now!
Carter’s quarters were spartan, her narrow bed neatly made with squared corners, a big framed picture of the Hammond bolted to the wall above it. She sat down in the only chair by the desk. “Tell me what happened on the hive ship,” she said.
Laura took a deep breath. “We got pinned down. Dr. Zelenka hotwired one of the blast doors, which cut off the Wraith attacking us but also cut us off from Ronon and Dr. Keller. Colonel Sheppard told Ronon to go get Dr. McKay while we retrieved the ZPM…”
It was a long story, all the way through their precipitous departure and Todd’s hive ship, all the way through the part where a Wraith diplomatic delegation had been told she was Carter’s heir.
“That wasn’t my idea, ma’am,” she said swiftly. “That was Teyla, and so I followed along.”
“Always the best thing to do with Teyla on the subject of anything Wraith.” Carter looked vaguely amused, which was probably a good thing. Less like washing her out. “Cadman, have you ever wondered why I’m so hard on you?”
“No, ma’am.” One proper answer to that.
“Because you have tremendous potential,” Carter said quietly. “You think fast and you’re brave and practical, but you don’t lack imagination. I think you could go a long way. I want to give you the opportunity to test yourself and to have a variety of experiences. That’s what will give you the confidence you need to stand in any company.” The colonel looked at her keenly. “You’re not a kid from Florida State. Right now, today, you’re the best of the best. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant. But you’ve done two years in Atlantis and three with the SGC before and after that deployment. You’re head and shoulders above half of the people here. It’s time to put yourself out there. It’s time to start making the calls and thinking of solutions rather than waiting for orders. It’s time to believe in yourself the way others believe in you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Laura found herself inexplicably blinking. “I don’t…” She stopped, squaring her shoulders. Carter was looking up at her from the chair, not nearly as scary as she’d seemed before, forty something and a little worn. Somehow that made it easier to blurt out the thing she was thinking. “I’ve never been very smart.”
Carter was an academy graduate. At Laura’s age she’d already had a PhD in astrophysics. There was no comparison.
“There are different kinds of smart,” Carter said. “And not all of them come out of a book. Sometimes the most important ones don’t come out of a book.” She put her elbow on the desk, glancing at the pictures on the wall behind it and back to Laura. “The most important thing is teamwork. None of us have all the skills. Nobody is able to handle everything alone. We don’t have Superman.”
“And Superman has the Justice League,” Laura said, and then felt like slapping herself.
Carter broke into a smile. “He does. Because it’s all about complimentary skills. You’re not a scientist. And you don’t have to be. You don’t have to be an anthropologist or an engineer or a physicist. You just have to be the best of what you are. Take the opportunities you’re given and shine.” She shook her head. “Believe me, Cadman. You’re not short on anything. Colonel Sheppard would steal you back in a heartbeat. But I’m not letting him. I get you back as soon as Lorne is up and around!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Laura said, which was about all she could manage.
“You’re doing fine. You just need to develop the confidence to push when you need to.” Carter stood up. “Now go get some rest. Stand down for twelve hours, if the universe will give us that much time.”
Major Lorne limped into the control room, maneuvering around the consoles fairly skillfully on his crutches. Sheppard was just coming out of Woolsey’s office, still in the dirty uniform he’d presumably worn on the last mission, two days beard on his chin. Asking “How did it go?” would be rubbing salt in the wound. Obviously they didn’t have McKay, and everybody had already heard that Ronon and Keller were MIA. Well, maybe not everybody, but he’d already talked to Cadman, on her way out to the Hammond to report after getting a hot shower.
Lorne drew himself up, doing his best to look professional. “Sir, if I might have a word with you?”
Sheppard stopped. “Sure,” he said, frowning.
Lorne bet he wanted to hit the showers too, so he made it brief. “Dr. Beckett says he’ll take the cast off my leg this afternoon. I thought…”
Sheppard shook his head. “You know it’s not going to work like that, right? He’s going to put braces and things on it, and you’ll have weeks of physical therapy. There’s no way you’re going straight back on full duty.”
“Yes, sir, but…”
Sheppard clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s a few more weeks,” he said. “Light duty for a few more weeks. You don’t want to screw that leg up permanently. Right now Cadman’s covering for you on the team, and as soon as Beckett says you’re ready, I’ll give her back to Carter. But you know that’s not going to be today.”
“I know,” Lorne said. And he did know. But he’d hoped anyhow.
Chapter Six
Hunger
Ronon made his way back along the cliff’s edge at a trot, one eye on the declining sun. It was already brushing the tops of the trees, but if he hurried, there should be enough time to get McKay and Jennifer to the gap he’d found. And down, and across, and up again… But they could do it. He could do it. They wouldn’t be able to get very far once they’d crossed the river, not in the waning daylight, and it would be a long march the next day — probably too long, reasonably calculated, to reach the Stargate, but it was better than he had feared.
McKay was still sitting under the tree where Ronon had left him, but Jennifer had made her way to the stream, was filling the water container. That was a good idea — she’d come a long way since he’d first met her, and he couldn’t help an approving nod.
“Keller! McKay! I’ve found a way down.”
Jennifer looked up quickly, and Ronon saw the relief in her face.
“That’s wonderful,” Rodney said, sourly, and hauled himself to his feet. “Is it far?”
“Nope,” Ronon answered. Well, by some definitions, it wasn’t. He eyed the stream warily. “Better cross further back from the edge.”
It took almost two hours to reach the break in the cliff that Ronon had decided was the best place to cross. There was an easier slope another couple of kilometers further along, but here the opposite bank had given way, and it would be an easy scramble up to the other side. Rodney balked at the top, staring down at the rocks and the rushing water. The river came close under the cliff here, and water foamed around the heaped stones.
“You know, this doesn’t look like all that great a place to climb down. One false step, and you’ve got a sprained ankle, or worse.”
“You don’t have to worry about that right now,” Ronon said. He couldn’t help grinning at the look McKay gave him, offended and appalled in equal measure. Jennifer smiled too, and began to pick her way carefully down the rocky slope. Ronon watched long enough to feel confident that she was going to be all right, then looked back at Rodney.
“Come on, McKay.”
“This isn’t —” Rodney’s heel slipped as he spoke, and he
flailed for balance. Ronon reached without thinking, caught him by the upper arm and held him steady. Rodney grabbed at his sleeve, and they stood frozen for an instant, Rodney’s handmouth against the coarse fabric. It took all Ronon’s willpower to hold still, not to shove him away. Rodney looked stricken, eyes wide and golden as if with shock.
“I’m good,” he said, in a strangled voice, and Ronon nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He let go, and Rodney scrambled down the slope in Jennifer’s wake. Ronon could feel himself shivering, as though he’d been out on Atlantis’s balconies unprotected. He stiffened his shoulders and made himself follow.
Jennifer was waiting for them by the water’s edge. She’d found a long stick — probably the trunk of a sapling — among the debris, and held it up at their approach. “I thought — you know how people rope together for things like this? Maybe this would work.”
“Good idea,” Ronon said. He was amazed that his voice sounded even close to normal. He tapped the wood against the nearest rock, decided it felt solid enough. “Let’s go.”
They edged into the river, holding tight to the sapling. Ronon took the lead, feeling for unseen potholes, the water rushing up past his knees, numbing his skin. Jennifer clung with determination to the middle of the pole, and Rodney brought up the rear, yelping as the cold hit him.
“Ow! Isn’t this likely to give us all hypothermia or something?”
“Suck it up, McKay,” Ronon said without thinking, and that felt strange and normal at the same time.
The riverbed was treacherous underfoot, stones the size of a man’s fist shifting uneasily in the current. No potholes, though, at least not in this relatively smooth stretch, and, though the current was strong, it was at least steady. Then Jennifer cried out, and Ronon whipped around to see her falling, her hands peeling away from the wood. She was light enough that the current took her instantly, rolling her over in the waist-deep water, and it took all Ronon’s control to keep from diving after her. Rodney lunged toward her, black coat billowing, ready to tangle them both. Ronon curbed the impulse to join him, instead kept tight hold of the stick, let the current take it toward them. Then Rodney had reached her, had her by the jacket and then her hand, and his other hand closed firmly on the sapling. Ronon braced himself to take their joined weight, held firm as first Rodney, then Jennifer dragged themselves to their feet and resumed their careful progress. On the far side, Jennifer collapsed onto the nearest rock, and Ronon gave her a worried look.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded, her wet hair straggling over her face, then grimaced and began to bind it back again.
“What happened?” Rodney asked.
“A stone turned under my foot,” Jennifer answered. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?” Rodney asked. “Because that’s the way people break ankles, not that I’m staying I told you so —”
“I’m fine,” Jennifer said again. “I’m a doctor, remember? I’m not hurt.” She stood up as though to prove it, and Ronon, watching carefully, saw no sign of injury. She might be sore in the morning, but for now she’d be better off if she kept moving.
“OK,” he said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Rodney said. “Just wait a minute.” He was just as wet as Jennifer, the white hair plastered to his skull, water pooling at his feet. “We’re both soaked through. We should stop, dry out — maybe we could even camp here overnight, there’s lots of wood, and plenty of room.”
“It’s not safe to camp in a streambed,” Ronon said.
“Oh, come on, you can’t seriously be worried about flash floods,” Rodney said. “The sky’s completely clear.”
“Ronon’s right,” Jennifer said. “We need to keep going.”
Get as close to the Stargate as they could, Ronon thought. That effort would have taken it out of McKay. He said, “Not much further.” He pointed downstream to a spot where dirt and gravel spread in a fan from the collapsed cliffside. “Just there. Once we get to the top, we’ll see about going on.”
Rodney was profoundly grateful for the steel rod he’d salvaged from the lifepod, leaned heavily on its support as he followed the others down the streambed. They were going back the way they’d come — not that it made any real difference, and there’d been no way to get down the cliff on that side anyway, but it was somehow even more discouraging to have to retrace their steps. At least Jennifer was all right. She was limping a little, but she was going to be fine. A night’s rest was all she needed. He could feel his own body shifting, the bruises from where he’d banged against the rocks healing as he walked. It was a complete waste of energy, and he had no idea how to stop it, wondered if any Wraith did. Probably not — as far as he could tell, they had no compunctions about feeding, a Wraith in his situation would already have drained both the others, and be well on his way to the Stargate by now.
And that, of course, he couldn’t do, no matter what Jennifer said about this retrovirus. It was too much of a risk, she’d already said the first version hadn’t worked, and there was no way to test this one safely. And besides, she was Jennifer. He couldn’t think of her like that, any more than he could think it of Ronon. Though perhaps just a taste — just a sip, just enough to keep him steady on his feet, to get him to the Stargate so that they could bring him back to Atlantis. Ronon was strong, nearly as strong as two men, he could spare just a little —
Rodney stopped, appalled by his own thoughts. This was Ronon, Ronon and Jennifer; he couldn’t let his mind wander in those directions, not if he wanted to stay sane. No wonder Michael had gone crazy, he thought. It was simply too confusing to keep track of who one was.
“Come on, McKay,” Ronon called.
They were almost to the break in the cliff — Ronon was there, in fact, stopped with his feet in the red spill of dirt. Jennifer wasn’t far behind him, her hair loosening as it dried.
“Hurry up,” Ronon called again. Rodney bared teeth at him and dragged himself forward.
He wasn’t sure quite how he got up the last few meters — off-hand and stick bracing himself and Ronon shouting at him to keep going — but he knew when he reached the top that he wasn’t going any further. He staggered a meter from the cliff’s edge and sank down onto the grass, still warm from the sun. He saw Jennifer and Ronon exchange a look, and then Ronon said, gruffly, “OK. We stop for the night.”
“We need to talk,” Jennifer said, and Ronon shook his head, his hair flying.
“Nope.”
He busied himself collecting stones and wood, built a perfect stack of branches, kindling tucked neatly into the gaps, as though the right, the correct method, would keep them from having to have this conversation. Rodney watched him, feeling some of the weakness ease as his body finished healing his bruises and he stopped exerting himself.
“Yes, we do,” Jennifer said. “Rodney —” She stopped, bit her lip. “Rodney, you have to feed.”
“I’m fine,” he said, and knew nobody believed him.
“You’re out of your mind,” Ronon said. “He’ll kill — whichever one of us he feeds on, and if he doesn’t kill us, he’ll take years out of our lives. You remember what Sheppard looked like —”
“I’ve taken the retrovirus,” Jennifer said patiently. “I’m ninety percent — well, seventy-five percent certain this version will work. And assuming it does, Rodney can feed and nothing will happen to me.”
“Except you’ll suffer,” Ronon said. “Horribly. And if you’re wrong, you’ll die.”
“If I’m wrong,” Jennifer said, “Rodney will return what he took. Just the way Todd did.”
“Jennifer,” Rodney said, and she turned to look at him. The setting sun was below the treeline now, so that she was backlit, her face in shadow, her loosened hair catching the last of the light. His heart ached to see her like that, and his hand throbbed in time to his heartbeat. “I don’t — I told you, I never fed myself. I don’t know if I could return your — life. I don’t know if I know how.”
“And if you don’t feed now,” Jennifer said, “you will die.”
“You’ve been wrong before,” Ronon said.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I have, and you were right. I’m trying to learn from that. But — Ronon, look at him. Can you tell me he’s not dying?”
“I’m fine,” Rodney said, but couldn’t muster anything approaching conviction.
There was a little silence, and then Ronon’s face twisted, an expression that might have been laughter or tears. “Yeah. OK. If he wasn’t bad, he wouldn’t be trying to tell us he was all right.” He paused. “But, Jennifer —”
“Don’t,” she said. “I have to. I swore an oath, to heal the sick, and this is Rodney, and I love him. There’s no other choice.”
“God!” Ronon shoved himself to his feet. “All right. But you can’t — don’t ask me to watch.”
He stalked away between the trees, vanishing into the sun. Jennifer took a breath, came to sit beside Rodney, unzipping her jacket enough to bare the skin beneath. Rodney let her take his off hand, feeling for the pulse point.
“It’s not good, is it,” he said, quietly, and she shook her head.
“It’s now or never, Rodney.”
“Jennifer, I —” Rodney stopped. There were too many things to say, too many things he needed to remember, to mention, to be sure someone knew; a thousand thoughts, scattering like quicksilver, everything he would never see again. His feeding hand hurt, far worse than it had ever done before, and, looking down, he could see the handmouth gaping, see and feel the inner membrane pulsing, matching not the beat of his heart, but hers. Now or never, and no matter what he did, nothing would be right again — He lifted his feeding hand, saw her close her eyes.
“Oh, God,” he whispered, and let that stand for all the prayers he didn’t believe in: don’t let me screw this up, please let the retrovirus work, please don’t let me kill her… He placed his feeding hand against her skin and set his claws.
STARGATE ATLANTIS: Secrets (Book 5 in the Legacy series) Page 6