“It’s about this world,” William said, his fingers flying over the screen, paging through the data in Ancient. “I have a feeling.”
“You have a feeling.” His voice was flat.
“I have a feeling.” William lifted his eyes again. “Look, anybody can go through data and any reasonably competent individual can walk around taking pictures of ruins. Dr. Jackson hired me for the SGC because I can put pieces together, make the leaps of intuition. Remember the work I did on Hadrian’s Wall?”
“I do.”
“There are pieces,” William said. “I can’t quite see how they fit yet, like pot sherds that are still missing. But there are pieces and they fit together. They make something.” His eyes met Radek’s. “This is what I do. I don’t tell you how to do your work.”
“You do not,” Radek said. He took a deep breath. What harm could it do, really? No one else was clamoring for the terminal. “A prison break eleven thousand years ago?”
“Less a century,” William said. “It’s a fascinating proceeding. Really interesting to see the examination of witnesses and the presentation of data. I’m almost certain that the prison was the one here. It was clearly somewhere very cold. And at that time this world could have had a Stargate.” He scrolled the data again. “This is the account from one of the surviving guards. For some reason one of the officers let a woman out and she let out the others. It’s very murky what happened. There was a report of a fire, that the base was filling up with smoke and the ventilation systems had failed, but the investigation found no evidence that there was a fire at all, despite several of the survivors insisting there was. The fire suppression systems were manually engaged, but the automatics didn’t cut in. Very strange. Nearly all of the garrison were killed. Those who weren’t were the ones who rallied in the hangar bay control room. The prisoners managed to get to the DHD and dial out. They escaped through the Stargate.”
Radek frowned at the screen. One line of symbols stood out amid the Ancient writing. “That is a gate address,” he said.
William nodded. “That’s the address they dialed out to. Of course by the time of the hearing the Ancients had sent law enforcement to that address to recapture them, but they were long gone.” He looked up at Radek again. “I’ve never seen this one before.”
“I have,” Radek said. “That is the first address we dialed when we came to Atlantis. That is the address for Athos.”
“Teyla’s homeworld?”
“Interesting,” Radek said.
“Really interesting,” William said. “Thank you. That gives me the next piece. Now I need to look at law enforcement activities on Athos nine centuries before the fall of Atlantis.”
Radek was about to ask him why, but stopped. There was no harm in pursuing it, no need to be petty. “You might also want to talk to Teyla when she returns,” he said.
“Yes, of course.” William was already calling up a new search, no doubt hunting through millions of pieces of irrelevant data for law enforcement on an obscure colony eleven thousand years ago, like a dog on a scent, implacable and undaunted.
Radek shook his head. He thought he could see where this was going. “You know Colonel Sheppard is not going to let you take another team back to the island unless you can give him more than that. William, we are stretched far too thin to pursue this on a whim.”
William looked up. “It’s not a whim. There’s something there. I know it. I know it’s important. Help me, please.”
Radek sighed. “Is there a chance there is a ZPM there?”
“I don’t know.” William gave him an honest answer, at least. “There certainly was. At the time of the prison break this installation was on a standard layout, and that meant that it was powered by a ZPM. But the prison was subsequently closed and it appeared when we were in there that most of the equipment was taken. But it was standard procedure to leave the ZPM in place on these sorts of bases so that they could be reopened if necessary. That was certainly the case with Proklarush Teonas, and that base had been completely abandoned a long time ago.”
“But there was a ZPM here?” Radek asked.
“Once, yes.” William nodded. “But whether or not it’s still there…”
“Or still active,” Radek mused. “Many of the ZPMs we’ve found have been completely depleted, or nearly so.”
“Still, even a very small amount of power, like the one we found on Sateda…”
“…was incredibly helpful. Yes, I know.” Radek met William’s eyes. “Very well. I will talk to Colonel Sheppard. Perhaps Colonel Carter would be willing to beam a team in so that we do not need the engineers and you can look for a ZPM. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Very much so,” William said. “Radek…”
“It is worth a try,” Radek said, walking off toward the office.
“Colonel Sheppard to the gateroom.” John had just walked into his office, ready to sit down and attack the mound of paperwork that had built up.
He keyed his radio open to reply. “What’s up, Banks?”
“Teyla’s back.”
Which meant he needed to know what had happened with Todd. He turned around and headed back out again, the office lights obligingly going out behind him.
Teyla was in Woolsey’s office, but Woolsey beckoned him in as soon as he saw him and he slipped in without knocking.
“I think for his part Guide is sincere,” Teyla was saying. “But I cannot vouch for every man on his ship. Queen Death is very charismatic, and while I do not think that any of them suspect that I am not who they believe, that might not be sufficient if some of them were offered rewards from Death.”
Woolsey nodded gravely. “You’re saying some of Guide’s men might be bought.”
“It is possible,” Teyla said. “I do not think that any of them suspect that Steelflower is not what she appears, but it did stretch their loyalty somewhat to treat with the Lanteans. None of them would openly oppose their Queen and Consort, but there were certainly those who were not happy. Whether or not that dissatisfaction is anything besides unspoken disagreement, I cannot say. Were I to return, I think…”
“You can’t do that right now.” John felt like he had to get out in front of this one before Teyla had another reason to head back to the hive. “You haven’t had solid food in a month, and your blood pressure is all over the place. You know Carson isn’t going to let you out of here again.”
“Dr. Keller,” Teyla began, turning yellow eyes on him, her black clad form still incongruous in Woolsey’s office chairs.
“Dr. Keller is off duty,” Woolsey said. “She’s in the infirmary herself.”
Teyla’s brows knit. “Was she injured?”
“Rodney fed on her,” John said. Probably best to get that out in the open. “The retrovirus worked as far as it goes, and Carson says she’ll be ok. But right now she’s resting.”
Teyla took a quick breath, and then let it out more slowly, her hands opening against the silk of her dress very deliberately. “It worked.”
“It worked,” John said. She looked worried. “Really. And Rodney’s back and he’s going to be ok.”
“Then this is cause for joy,” Teyla said, and there was no mistaking the catch in her voice.
“They’re going to be ok. It’s just a rough patch,” John said.
Woolsey shifted, coming around his desk to perch on the edge. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Colonel Sheppard about returning to the hive, Teyla. It’s possible that you may need to do this again in the future, if you are willing to, but for the moment I don’t see that the benefits outweigh the possible cost to your health. You can’t keep an eye on every man, even if you were there. So let’s leave Guide to do what he does. And you can stand down and take care of yourself.” Woolsey smiled, and it truly looked genuine and fond. “You’ve done a remarkable thing.”
“Thank you, Mr. Woolsey,” Teyla said.
“I’ll put this intelligence to good use,” Woolsey said. “Never f
ear.”
Teyla paused in the hall outside the infirmary, John at her heels. Part of her, the part that was Steelflower, expected him there, as of right; the part of her that was Teyla wanted him beside her, so that she could lean on him, just for this little moment, until the buzz of the hive faded from her mind. But he had much to do — good things, but good news still required managing, and Rodney’s rescue required more than most — and she smiled and pushed him lightly back as he stopped beside her. She also, if she was honest with herself, did not so much want him to see her in the first stages of transition, the days of soreness and recovery. Or, rather, more honest still, she wanted him to see her again when it was well begun, and she could take pleasure in his company.
“I’d like to come with you,” he said, as though he’d read her thoughts, and she smiled, her hand still on his arm.
“I know you are needed,” she said. “And it is not that I do not need you, too, John, but —”
“You don’t need me hovering now,” John said.
“And you have other obligations,” Teyla said. “But — come and hover later?”
He touched her shoulder. “Definitely.”
He turned away, and she lifted her hand to the infirmary door. Strangely, the echoes of Wraith seemed louder here. The door slid back, admitting her to the familiar lights and faint clean smell and the sudden startled leap of a cleverman’s mind. She drew herself up, becoming Steelflower, even though there was no possibility of Wraith here, reaching out to identify and control the stranger. A mind of glittering thoughts, a thousand skittering balls of mercury, fleeing her touch. And Rodney McKay knelt on the infirmary floor, his head bent to her feet.
“Oh, Rodney,” she said aloud, and in spite of herself echoed his name. *Quicksilver.*
*Steelflower.* He lifted his head, his eyes, exhausted, red-rimmed, human, meeting hers. “Teyla?”
He had seen her before in this guise, the first time she had worn it, but it had not been like this — could not have been, how could it, when he had never had the Gift? She could see too much in that instant, feel too clearly the collision of emotions. Bewilderment — he had been drowsing, woke to find a queen before him — the pain, physical and emotional, of the transition, the sheer relief at seeing her. And not just at seeing her, Teyla, but at seeing Steelflower, knowing himself safe within a queen’s command. There was even a part of him still thinking, calculating, pieces falling into place — Guide’s plots, suddenly rearranged, made to make new and deeper sense, and she could not help but share that flicker of amusement.
*It is ever so with Guide.*
But that did him no service. If anyone else saw him like this, it would be worse than humiliation. Bad enough that she should know, but she understood, as no other would; if another saw — Rodney might forgive, but he could not forget, and she stooped, taking him by the shoulders to ease him to his feet. He came upright under her hands, breathing hard.
“Gently, Rodney,” she said aloud. “You should not be out of bed.”
“No, he shouldn’t be.” Carson came bustling out from the office, and Teyla allowed herself a sigh of relief that she had gotten Rodney to his feet in time. “What were you thinking?”
“I —” Rodney stopped, for once struck silent, and Teyla stepped smoothly into the gap.
“I believe he wanted water — is that not right, Rodney? And overestimated his strength.”
“Yes,” Rodney said. His mind clung to hers like a man drowning clings to any floating branch. She eased his hold as gently as she could, and together she and Carson maneuvered him back onto the bed. They got him settled again, and she laid her hand on his forehead, feeling the skin hot and damp.
“He should sleep,” she said, to Carson, and the doctor nodded.
“Aye, he should, but I’m reluctant to give him a sedative. His body chemistry is already so far out of balance that I don’t like to risk it.”
“That is reasonable,” Teyla said. She could do better anyway, one last, kindly use for her disguise before she was finally able to lay it aside. *Sleep,* she whispered, mind to mind, skin to skin, and obediently Rodney’s eyes closed, his breath easing.
“I didn’t expect you quite so soon,” Carson said. “But I expect you’re ready to have all this undone.” He waved his hand, the gesture encompassing her clothes, her skin, the layers of surgery and artifice, and Teyla could not help a laugh.
“You cannot know how ready I am,” she began, and stopped, smiling now for her own folly. She would not be rid of Steelflower, not ever, but she made herself meet Carson’s eyes with her most human smile. “When can we begin?”
“The small things now,” Carson answered, and led her toward a bay. He pulled the curtains closed for her to undress, talking about IV drips and medications, surgery tomorrow when her blood pressure had stabilized. Teyla closed her eyes for a moment, unaccountably close to tears. She was home, and Rodney was home; they were all together on Atlantis now, all the team. That would be enough for now.
It had been a fairly spectacularly disappointing day, despite Dr. Lynn’s brief attempt to find something positive to say about his researches. Radek had shut him down pretty quickly, and John wondered if he was going to have to say something to Radek about it. Managing the scientists really wasn’t his job, though, and Lynn hadn’t seemed particularly bothered, so maybe he could leave it alone. Outside the gateroom window, the clouds were low, darkening to purple in the fading light. It wasn’t snowing yet, but he was willing to bet that it would be soon.
At least there didn’t seem to be anything that required his immediate attention, which meant that he could slip down to the infirmary and check on Teyla and Rodney before he hit the mess hall. And the paperwork that was still waiting in his office, though he thought he should probably tackle that in the morning when he was fresh. And he still had almost fifty laps of last year’s season-ender at Homestead backed up on DVD, not that he didn’t already know who won. Between that and War and Peace, his evening was almost full.
The infirmary was warm and bright — and crowded, Carson and several of his assistants busy directing traffic, triaging a group of maybe a dozen scientists and technicians. One of them, a pretty red-head, was holding a towel to her eyes, and from the noise and commotion it seemed as though something had blown up in their faces. At the far end of the room, the curtains were drawn closed around Teyla’s bed; Rodney’s curtains were open, and he was sitting hunched against the pillows, laptop in hand, glaring at the injured scientists as though he wanted to lecture them on safety or, more likely, on the fundamental pointlessness of their plan. The back of his johnny was open over the ridged Wraith spine, and somehow seeing that was more disconcerting than all the other physical changes. Maybe it was because the only other times he’d seen those ridges it had been on dead Wraith laid out for autopsy, but it made him more uncomfortable than anything else so far. Rodney was looking good otherwise, not in need of cheering up, and clearly Carson didn’t need strangers getting in his way, and John hesitated, the door obligingly hovering open behind him.
“Oh. Colonel.”
John stepped out of Lorne’s way, and Lorne grimaced, seeing the crowd.
“Maybe I should come back.”
“Apparently something blew up,” John said, helpfully. “It looks like it’s going to be a while.”
“Yeah.” There was a look on Lorne’s face that John recognized only too well, the look of a junior officer biting a bullet. “Look, sir, have you got a minute?”
“Trouble?” John’s voice sharpened in spite of himself, and Lorne shook his head.
“No. Well, not really. Just — if I could have a word, sir?”
That was worse than the usual run of trouble, that was off-the-record trouble, and John winced. “Sure.” He thought for a moment about suggesting a cup of coffee, but one look at Lorne’s face told him it wasn’t the kind of problem they could discuss in a quiet corner of the mess hall. “There’s a lounge — here.”
“Have a seat, Major.”
“Thank you, sir.” Lorne did as he was told, sat for a moment turning his cane between his fingers. John perched on the arm of the other couch.
“OK,” he said, after a moment, and Lorne sighed.
“I’ve heard some talk — it’s been brought to my attention that some of our personnel are uncomfortable about having Dr. McKay back.”
Damn it. John swallowed the words, knowing that he was being unreasonable. “Would you care to be more specific?”
“Specific how, sir?” Lorne looked even more wary, and John couldn’t blame him. This problem was dynamite on a short fuse, worse than whatever had just blown up on the science team. And the fact that his ranking officer was McKay’s good friend as well as the leader of the gate team — Lorne had spent enough time at the SGC to know about gate teams.
“What level of uncomfortable are we talking about?” he asked.
Lorne relaxed slightly. “Apparently some of the newer personnel don’t understand why Dr. McKay is being treated with such — deference. There is some sentiment that he ought to be held in a more secure location until he’s been fully debriefed.”
That wasn’t entirely unexpected: there were a lot of people on Atlantis now who didn’t know McKay, who hadn’t seen him pull miracles out of his hat over and over, who didn’t owe them their lives. All the new people had seen was a bad tempered scientist who’d disappeared and come back a Wraith, attacked the city and killed their friends. But that didn’t matter. This was still McKay. That was the bottom line. This was Rodney, and so this was a rescue. No matter how complicated it was. “That’s not going to happen, Major,” he said aloud. “So, how big a problem is it going to be?”
STARGATE ATLANTIS: Secrets (Book 5 in the Legacy series) Page 9