STARGATE ATLANTIS: Secrets (Book 5 in the Legacy series)

by Scott, Melissa

She burst out laughing. “Oh, for real? Does that mean he’d actually do what I told him to for a change?”

  “You could try it and see,” John said, grinning. She’d been to that brink too and come back, worked through the messed up part like a torn muscle. Had other people? What if it wasn’t just him, but a lot of other people too, on a secret journey that no one else knew about, with only hidden signposts to mark the way, Masonic handshakes to identify a fellow traveler?

  “I might do that,” Sam said. “And thanks for the word. I know you watch out for your team.”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  “No.” Sam shook her head. “It’s life.”

  The first symbols around the gate lit at the same moment that Airman Salawi spun around in her chair. “Unscheduled gate activation!” Hernandez hurried down the stairs to take up a firing position at the bottom as Merriman and Pulaski cranked the manual gate shield into place. The wormhole erupted blue behind it.

  Salawi had her hand to her ear bud, listening for radio. “It’s the SGC,” she said, twisting around to tell Woolsey.

  “About time,” Carter said under her breath.

  “Open the iris,” Woolsey directed, straightening his tie.

  Jack O’Neill stood at the window in Woolsey’s office, looking out through the glass at the floor of the gateroom below, wishing he were somewhere else. He usually did when he was in this office.

  Turning Atlantis back over to the surviving Ancients, telling Elizabeth Weir to pack up…

  Trying to persuade those same Ancients that the Replicators bearing down on them weren’t friendly, watching the first ones die… They didn’t listen to him, even though he had their damned gene, even though he was their descendant. They were Ancients. But they died like humans. Just exactly like humans.

  Taking over Atlantis on behalf of the Air Force, acting on a Presidential order that could always be disavowed, a cowboy getting ahead of his grade…

  And now this.

  Behind him, Woolsey lapsed at last into silence.

  Down on the floor of the gateroom there was an authorized activation, a team heading out to one of their trade partners with a bunch of boxes to be exchanged for fresh foodstuffs. The last one on the team turned and waved cheerfully to someone before stepping through the event horizon, like it was no big deal at all.

  Jack marshaled his thoughts. “You’re telling me that you have a weapon that could kill all the Wraith and any human with Wraith DNA.”

  “I’m telling you that we have an Ancient device that was designed to do that, that the first Wraith believed would,” Woolsey said. “Obviously we haven’t tested it.”

  “So you don’t know if it works, or if it does what they think it does,” O’Neill said. The number of Ancient devices that worked the way they were intended to, with no side effects…

  “That is correct,” Woolsey said.

  Jack nodded. “And where is it now?”

  “I told Sheppard to hide it. No one else knows where it is. I don’t know where it is.”

  “Good call,” Jack said. Sheppard was the last person who would use it. It would be over his dead body, possibly literally. “And who else knows it exists?”

  “You, me, Sheppard, Teyla, Colonel Carter, Dr. McKay and Major Lorne,” Woolsey said.

  “And the Wraith.” There was that important point.

  “Alabaster. Which means Todd — Guide — will know soon enough. And he’ll want it.”

  Jack put his fingers to the bridge of his nose where a headache was building. You didn’t get much more above grade level than this. “And you’ve got this new queen, Death, marauding all over the place, not to mention the regular Wraith cullings. A weapon that could save thousands upon thousands of lives.”

  “And completely destroy an entire sentient species,” Woolsey said dryly. “Genocide on a scale the Goa’uld and the Ori never imagined.”

  “We can’t give this thing to Todd,” Jack said. He turned around. “You know we can’t do that.” Anger welled up in him, sharp and strong. How dare Woolsey make him play God? How dare he put it all on him, the millions of human lives lost to the Wraith balancing the destruction of an entire species? On him? “What the hell are you thinking?” he demanded. “You’re handing me a doomsday weapon and telling me what? You want me to figure out what to do with it? What the hell gives you that right? Why not the President or the Joint Chiefs or the IOA? Why the hell are you dumping this on me?”

  Woolsey squared his skinny shoulders. “Because you’re the man who didn’t nuke Abydos.”

  Jack took a long breath.

  And that was where it all began. That was where the story started, the gate opening onto another world, the bomb that was supposed to close it forever. Five thousand people, five thousand ordinary villagers going about their lives, versus the safety of Earth from the Goa’uld. He could see it still, clearly enough to touch it, the blue sky of Abydos over golden sand, pyramid rising like a dream, like a mirage out of wild imaginings. Kids and goats, old men who needed dental work and women with wary eyes. The collateral damage was too high.

  Jack turned back to the glass, closing his eyes. “The Abydonians all died anyway.”

  “Seven years later,” Woolsey said. “And that was worth something.” His dry voice ran on. “That’s all we ever have, isn’t it? That it’s not today. That it’s not on our watch.”

  Jack said nothing. Out in the control room one of the guards was flirting with the Airman on duty. He’d seen the bodies come back drained of life, withered to mummified husks. What do you tell their parents? What do you say happened? What do you do when their mom wants to open the casket? He could end that forever.

  “We don’t know what it would do,” Woolsey said. “Besides kill the Wraith and every human with Wraith DNA. We don’t know how large the collateral damage would be. Presumably you and some few others would be protected by the ATA gene. Obviously the Ancients would not have wanted this to work on themselves. But ordinary humans?”

  “You’re reaching for straws,” Jack said.

  Woolsey made some small noise behind him. “I am,” he said. “But it’s my job to think about the worst case scenario.”

  “And mine to think about casualties.” The words came out sharper than he meant.

  “We have the retrovirus,” Woolsey said. “And we can inoculate all our personnel within a couple of weeks. We’ll never have to send our people home that way again. The question is about the rest of the galaxy.”

  “We can’t hold,” Jack said. “We’ve got to use it or not. If we sit around holding it, we’re just begging for something to go wrong. Nothing like this stays a secret. Not from our people, not from theirs.”

  “The first Wraith wanted to destroy it but couldn’t figure out how,” Woolsey said.

  “They didn’t have McKay and Carter.” Jack turned around. “Ok. Let’s get rid of this damned thing. If McKay and Carter can’t figure out how to wreck it, I don’t know who can. Drop it in a sun or down the event horizon of a black hole or something. They’ll figure it out. They could probably destroy the universe if they tried hard enough. I’ll give you Carter and you put in McKay. Let’s see what awesomely dangerous plan they can come up with. And then…” Jack grinned ruefully. “We won’t be anymore screwed than we already are.”

  Guide waited beside the Ring of the Ancestors, his breath a cloud in the damp air. The human soldiers left longer trails of mist: a faster metabolism, he wondered, or simply adrenaline raising body temperature? His own men waited with him, the drones nearly motionless, Bonewhite at his left hand ready for trouble. Guide didn’t know if the humans would recognize or remember him, the man Sheppard had called Kenny,’ but he wanted his second at his back. His fears for Alabaster had led him astray before now; he needed a man with enough authority to overrule him if things went wrong. It was an odd, unpleasant feeling, knowing he had made himself vulnerable, but he had felt naked — flayed, skinless — since the moment he’d seen
Alabaster’s face. He could not fully trust himself, and that had to be taken into account.

  Bonewhite caught a flash of that thought, and took a step forward in spite of the watching Marines, his off hand extended to touch Guide’s upper arm.

  *It may still be a trick. Send one of us — send me — instead.*

  And that would be the politic course, but Guide couldn’t bear it, couldn’t stand to wait, braced for the inevitable disappointment. He shook his head, the weight of his hair sliding against the leather of his coat. *No. Thank you, but this is mine.*

  Bonewhite bowed, more deeply than was his habit. *We will attend your return.*

  *Thank you,* Guide said, and broke the touch, looked to where Sheppard stood with Carter’s kinswoman. He was pleased that she would be left here, guard and hostage — it was a fitting choice, and he knew Bonewhite also knew better than to trust her too completely.

  “Very well, Sheppard,” he said aloud. “I am ready.”

  “About time,” Sheppard said. “Oh, just so you know, we’re not going straight to Atlantis.”

  Bonewhite bared teeth at that, but Guide laughed. “I never expected it.”

  “Dial the gate,” Sheppard ordered, and a moment later the Ring exploded with blue fire.

  After the first passage, the humans blindfolded him. Guide submitted without complaint, amused that the young officer who performed the task had to stand on tiptoe to reach, and smelled of fear as he did it. He heard the Ring open, and then Sheppard said, “Ready?”

  “I am ready.”

  “Three steps up,” Sheppard said quietly. Guide could almost see him, see the faint, self-deprecating smile, his face turned half away so that no one else would guess that he spared a fellow Consort’s dignity.

  The stairs were there, and then the shock of the Ring. His boots rang on the stones of the City of the Ancients, and he reached for the blindfold before he thought better of it.

  “Go ahead,” Sheppard said.

  Guide completed the gesture, loosened the strip of black fabric and let it fall to the floor. The gateroom was filled with a cool, pale light, the sky beyond the windows like the polished heart of a shell. The colored glass looked dull, dirtied, against the pure pale silver of the clouds. Woolsey stood at the top of the broad stairs, flanked by Carter and Teyla — Guide found a moment to pity him, caught between two such queens. There was also a grey-haired man Guide didn’t know, his back straight and his eyes appraising. The tall Satedan stood beside him, his face a grim mask.

  “Welcome to Atlantis,” Woolsey said — a nice use of protocol, giving precedence to neither queen.

  Guide bared teeth in what he knew was a disconcerting smile. “Thank you. It is — most interesting — to be here yet again.”

  “Under happier circumstances, I hope,” Woolsey said, and Ronon stepped aside.

  Until that moment, Guide had not entirely believed. There would prove to be some trickery, some reason for delay that would ultimately become an admission of deceit, or, at best, bones on some barren world. But she stood there, tall and fair in her long robe, her scarlet hair caught back by a band that spread like wings across her temples. Snow had looked thus once, when he had first seen her, young and strong and gallant, mistress of her hive. His breath caught, though he had thought himself prepared.

  *Alabaster.*

  *Guide,* she answered, and came down the steps toward him, holding out both hands.

  He took them, silenced, and in her touch she whispered, *Father.*

  Guide bowed his head over their joined hands, his hair falling to screen his face. Teyla might read his confusion, joy and wonder and fear that somehow this miracle might still be snatched away, but no other.

  *Child no more,* he said at last, and felt his words break with their joy. He lowered his head further still, until his hair brushed their joined hands. This, perhaps, was what the Fair One had meant by music, their emotion joined and rejoined, delight and wonder feeding on itself. Alabaster caught the echo of his thought, and she smiled cool and proud.

  *But my father still.*

  Something moved then on the stairs. Guide straightened, startled, and the boy paused, looking warily at his mother. Alabaster smiled and beckoned, gathered him against her skirts to peer solemnly up at Guide.

  *My son,* she said. *I call him Darling.*

  *Darling indeed,* Guide said, and went to one knee. *Well met, Alabaster’s son.”

  *Well met,* the boy answered, and his mother prompted him with a touch. *Snow’s Consort.*

  Guide smiled at the old-fashioned courtesy, at his grandson healthy and unharmed, and on the steps someone cleared his throat. Guide rose, drawing himself up to his full height, and Alabaster turned to face the Lanteans.

  “I am in your debt,” he said aloud. It was a cheap concession, they would have known it no matter what he said.

  Behind Woolsey’s shoulder, Sheppard smirked, his thought plain to read. Woolsey cleared his throat again. “Yes. That’s — it’s something we will certainly all bear in mind. In any case, we have much to discuss. But first, allow me to introduce you to another of our people’s representatives.”

  He gestured to the gray-haired man who stood beside Carter. Guide made an appropriate response, his eyes flickering from one to another, assessing their response. Who was this stranger, and why was he here? Unless — yes, he thought, that had to be the answer. It explained why both Sheppard and Woolsey looked so wary: this was Carter’s true Consort, come at last to support his queen.

  “General Jack O’Neill,” Woolsey said.

  “A pleasure,” Guide said, and meant it. Perhaps they could come to a better bargain after all.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Children of the Ancients

  “Well,” Jack said, mostly under his breath. “This is different.”

  Carter gave him a look that he guessed meant ‘not so much,’ and Woolsey made a little movement like he’d started to tap his computer into better order. The Wraith formerly known as Todd showed his teeth in what was clearly meant to be an unnerving smile.

  “There is much to talk about, I realize.”

  He was bigger than Jack had expected. Oh, he’d read the reports, scrolled through the photos — obsessively, during the weeks Atlantis was off the grid. He’d had time to get used to the idea that the Wraith looked a lot more alien than, say, a Goa’uld in its host, or the Ori, even the Priors, had time to try to get his brain around the idea that there really were aliens out there who ate people, and who looked a lot like people had always imagined vampires would look. He’d listened to Daniel theorize about that, the notion that vampire legends might be some twisted reflection of Ancient lore, a memory of the war that had driven them to take refuge on Earth, but it hadn’t really prepared him for the reality of Todd — Guide — sitting at the far end of the conference table with his artfully disheveled hair and his tattooed face and, most of all, his presence. Jack hadn’t thought much about immortality lately — the Goa’uld weren’t, and the Asgard weren’t, and that had pretty much seemed to cover it: naughty or nice, nobody lived forever — but looking at Guide, he was beginning to get a sense of what that long view might look like. He wasn’t sure he liked it, and only then became aware that he was meeting Guide’s eyes with more challenge than he’d meant. He matched the Wraith’s smile tooth for tooth, and looked away. Carter gave him another quick glare, and he did his best to look innocent, as though he wasn’t wishing he could kick somebody under the table. Carter rolled her eyes like she wished she could kick him back, and Woolsey cleared his throat again.

  “Yes. Since you are here, there are several matters that we could profitably go over.” He glanced at his computer. “The state of your alliance under, er, Queen Steelflower being primary among them. And Dr. Keller has made some significant advances with the retrovirus that she would like to discuss with you —”

  “And there is also this weapon, is there not?” Guide said, with a mildness that deceived no on
e. “That should also be on the table, I believe.”

  Crap. Jack tried to look innocent and unconcerned, doubted he was any more successful than Sheppard, biting his lip next to Teyla. How the hell had Guide found out so quickly? Telepath, he answered himself. Alabaster knew; of course she’d told her father, probably in the middle of that touching greeting —

  “We have recovered an artifact that Alabaster believes to be a weapon,” Woolsey said, without a blink. “We have not confirmed that this is in fact what it is, or that it still functions. We know almost nothing about it at this point.”

  “It is a weapon,” Alabaster said. Her voice was clearer, more musical than Guide’s. Practice with her human flock, Jack wondered, or just natural timbre? “I have the memories of my foremother, Osprey, and I have seen and handled it. It is Hyperion’s weapon, and it was made to destroy all Wraith, and any who share our blood.” She nodded to Teyla. “This one can confirm what I say.”

  Teyla offered the smile Jack had seen her use on Earth, in the days of the IOA hearings. He wasn’t really sure he liked seeing it again in this context. “I also believe that this is the weapon of Osprey’s memory.”

  “We have no proof,” Woolsey said, with emphasis.

  “And I hope are seeking none,” Guide said.

  “We feel that, given the general unpredictability of Ancient devices, there is very little to be gained by pursuing the matter,” Woolsey said.

  “Until it seems advisable?” Guide asked. “Or expedient? You cannot seriously expect us to feel secure leaving this device in your hands.”

  “The Ancients believed it would work,” Alabaster said. “No, they knew it would, even if they didn’t care what its use might cost their children.”

  “Collateral damage,” Jack said, under his breath. Guide glanced his way, and he realized that Wraith hearing might be better than he’d thought. Or maybe he hadn’t been as discreet as he’d mostly meant to be. “Look, we have people — valuable people — who would be harmed by this thing, assuming it works, just as much as you would. We have some serious disincentives to using it ourselves.”