“Pigeons?” Jeannie said.
“We picked up some accidental passengers back on Earth,” Jennifer said. “They’re probably going to wreak havoc with this planet’s ecosystem, assuming any of them survive, but we haven’t really had time to worry about that very much.”
“It’s been a little busy,” Jeannie said.
Jennifer nodded. “How’s the security stuff coming?”
“Well, it’s a process,” Jeannie said. “I’ve found some things that Zelenka didn’t think to look for, so that’s a good thing. I’m just afraid we’re only scratching the surface of how many things Meredith did to the computers here without telling anybody.”
“He wasn’t always really forthcoming about that kind of thing,” Jennifer said.
“Isn’t,” Jeannie said pointedly.
“What?”
“Isn’t always really forthcoming.”
“Oh,” Jennifer said, a hint of color coming into her cheeks. “Right, no, I just meant that when he was working on the computers before, he didn’t tell anybody what he was doing, not that he won’t — ”
“Okay,” Jeannie said.
“I mean, I know Ronon and Teyla are doing everything they can to find him. And Colonel Sheppard, although right now he can’t exactly run around looking himself.”
“And Dr. Zelenka,” Jeannie pointed out.
“And Dr. Zelenka,” Jennifer acknowledged, but she didn’t sound like she found that particularly reassuring. “And we’re still working on the retrovirus.”
“And that’s coming along well?”
“It’s, you know, it’s coming. Maybe not well. But we’ll get there.”
“Good,” Jeannie said firmly.
“Actually, I was meaning to ask you a really big favor,” Jennifer said.
Jeannie nodded encouragingly when Jennifer didn’t immediately go on. It was probably just as well to try to get back onto the right foot with her future sister-in-law, or at least her future sister-in-law if Meredith managed to get up the nerve to propose and didn’t screw it up again.
She wondered if she needed to point out to him that he should really get a new ring this time. Using a ring you bought to propose to your last girlfriend when you propose to your next girlfriend pretty much defined tacky.
“I don’t know how long you’re staying.”
“Well, hopefully they’ll find Meredith and I won’t have to finish this incredibly irritating job, but if that doesn’t happen first, I think we’re going to have done everything we can think of to do in — I don’t know, a few weeks? I mean, after a certain point, I’ve scraped the bottom of the barrel in terms of what I know about the way Meredith thinks.”
“I was wondering if maybe you would be willing to take Newton back to Earth with you?” Jeannie must have looked blank, because Jennifer added, “The cat. His name is Newton. Or possibly Schrödinger, but I think we had more or less settled on Newton.”
“He can’t be that much trouble,” Jeannie said.
“No, it’s just… he’s really more Rodney’s cat, and I’m in the infirmary all day, when I’m not offworld, and right now with all the problems we’ve been having it’s so dangerous here for a cat, and I feel like I can’t take care of him the way that Rodney would have — ”
“The way that Rodney would have wanted?”
Jennifer met her angry look without flinching. “The way that Rodney would have if he had been here when the Wraith invaded,” she said. “It’s not like I could take the kitten to the infirmary with me.”
“If he’d been here, the Wraith wouldn’t have invaded.”
“That’s my point,” Jennifer said. “We had this idea that we could have a little more of a normal life out here, but it’s just not working out that way.”
“You don’t think he’s coming back,” Jeannie said. There was a little curl of doubt in the pit of her own stomach, but she forced it ruthlessly back. Her brother was going to come back, and he was going to be all right, except that she was going to kill him for making her worry like this. “Or you think he’s going to be, what? Stuck as some kind of monster forever?”
“That’s not going to happen,” Jennifer said, but her tone was too professional, the voice doctors used with dying patients. Her reassuring smile didn’t reach her eyes.
“Is that what you really think, or what you think you’re supposed to say?”
She thought the mask cracked just a little at that, frustration showing through. “What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to say you won’t give up on my brother, no matter what,” Jeannie said. “I want you to say that they’re going to find him, and then you’re going to fix him, and then he can take care of his own stupid cat.”
“We will,” Jennifer said. “I just don’t know how long that’s going to take. I can’t keep saying ‘oh, it’s probably going to be tomorrow’ when it’s probably not going to be. Just for right now, we have to live with the situation the way it is, and I’m just not sure I’m cut out to be a single cat owner in Atlantis.”
Jeannie let out a frustrated breath. “If we haven’t found Meredith by the time I leave, we can talk about it, all right?”
“We’ll probably have found him by then anyway,” Jennifer said, but she didn’t sound to Jeannie like she believed it.
Dick leaned back in the uncomfortable hotel room chair, phone to his ear, wondering if General O’Neill was going to answer his phone. Dick could have called his office, of course, and gotten a polite assistant who would tell him that the general was out and take a message. At least this way he’d get to leave voice mail.
“O’Neill,” he heard finally, with a tone of resignation.
“General,” Dick said, and tried not to sound relieved.
“Don’t tell me they’ve decided something already,” O’Neill said.
“They haven’t,” Dick said. “They’re still scheduling the full set of hearings, and they’ve requested additional information. Right now I’m preparing a briefing on our process for documenting procedures.”
“I’m impressed by how far removed that sounds from actually doing anything,” O’Neill said.
“It’s not what I’d call our central mission,” Dick admitted.
“You didn’t call me to ask about my process for documenting procedures. Which, if you’re interested, consists of telling someone else they can do that crap. There are some advantages to the little stars on my uniform.”
“Atlantis missed their scheduled weekly check-in,” Dick said.
There was a momentary pause. “Maybe they overslept,” O’Neill said.
“It’s possible,” Dick said. It was possible that there was some perfectly ordinary reason for the delay, but he didn’t believe it, and he thought neither did O’Neill.
“What does Landry say?”
“General Landry says we should wait until they’re twenty-four hours overdue before we start worrying.”
“Whereas I like to worry early and avoid the rush,” O’Neill said. “But I don’t actually think we have a situation here yet. They’ve missed check-in times before.”
“I know,” Dick said. “It’s probably some kind of technical problem on their end. Something involving the communications equipment, or a power failure.”
“Probably.”
“Of course, the last time we had a power failure in the main tower, it was because Michael and his hybrids were invading the city.”
O’Neill sighed. “You understand there’s not actually anything I can do about this, right?”
“I don’t suppose you could arrange for us to be able to dial Atlantis?”
“Not a chance,” O’Neill said. “Before I even think about recalling Odyssey and pulling her ZPM so that we can dial Pegasus, I’m going to need more than Atlantis being a few hours late checking in.”
“I thought you’d say that,” Dick said.
“Get some dinner,” O’Neill said. “Try not to worry about Atlantis. Sheppard and
Carter can handle things.”
“I’m sure they’re fine.” He stared unhappily at the pattern the sunlight made on the hotel bedspread. “Still, I can’t help thinking…”
“There’s your problem.”
“You think they’re fine.”
“I think that the best thing that you can do for your people is trust them to do their jobs, and let them trust that you’re doing yours.”
“Dealing with the IOA,” Dick said.
“At least they’re not actually going to suck the life from your body. Although it may feel like it.”
“Believe me, it’s not that I’m eager to have my life sucked, but… right now I’d rather be back there no matter what’s going on than be sitting here a galaxy away waiting to see if they pick up the phone.”
“Tell me about it,” O’Neill said. “I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.”
The phone went quiet, and Dick slipped it back into his pocket. He went to the window, opening the curtains. The view of parking lot and mountains seemed alien, less familiar than silver towers rising against blue sea toward the sky.
He was staying in a hotel rather than SGC guest quarters because he’d wanted to be able to get away from the hearings and the round-the-clock activity that seemed to be normal operating procedure at Cheyenne Mountain. He’d had some idea of making the best of his enforced stay, eating in good restaurants and enjoying some of the things he hadn’t had time to do when Atlantis was on Earth.
Instead, here he was sitting in his hotel room, thinking that he’d give anything to be back in Atlantis in his cold office eating something that came out of a plastic tray while Doctor McKay explained the latest incomprehensible technical problem that could potentially doom them all.
He’d worked with military personnel who felt that way for years, but he’d always thought he was immune to the appeal of facing constant danger in uncomfortable working conditions. Apparently not. He gazed down at the parking lot where his rental car was sitting.
After a moment, he pulled out his phone and dialed General Landry’s number.
“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything,” he said when Landry picked up.
“Not since the last time you called,” Landry said. “I promise we’ll let you know just as soon as we hear from your people.”
Your people, Dick thought as he hung up. He was used to hearing it sound like a curse in the mouths of SGC personnel. For so many years, your people had meant the NID, and then the IOA, and he’d been perfectly aware that the men and women in uniform who he was overseeing viewed him as their enemy.
That wasn’t what Landry and O’Neill meant now, though. The Atlantis expedition members were his people, and he was responsible for them, at least for the moment. At least for a little while longer.
“Come on, Colonel Sheppard. Pick up the phone,” he said, but his own phone stayed stubbornly silent.
Chapter Sixteen
Discoveries
William held the last of the plates he’d recovered from the museum closet up to the light, checking for the cracks that had made a couple of them shatter when they were exposed to the heat of the lights, then slipped it into the improvised reader. He’d guessed right, they were part of the cataloging system, though it also looked as though they’d been superseded, if he was reading the dates right and if his assumption that sticking them in that closet meant that they were rarely used was actually correct. But at least they were going to be able to get some idea of the parts of the collection that weren’t on display…
The airman that he’d borrowed from photo recon fiddled with the lenses, trying to get the image as clear as possible. They’d clean it up on the computer, of course, but you need to start with the best possible —
“Whoa,” the airman said, and William blinked.
“Isn’t that — ?”
The airman looked up at him. “That looks like a ZPM. Doesn’t it, doc?”
“Yes.”
It was a line drawing, like all the images, not a photograph — another reason to think this was an older listing, because it was clear from talking to Ronon that the Satedans had had fairly sophisticated photography. They’d set it wrong side up, rested it on the broad base, but the jagged shape, the veins of shading, were unmistakable. And, just like that, William thought, all their priorities changed.
“Get that onto the computer right away, please, and get it cleaned up. Forget about anything else for the moment, see if you can get the text as clear as possible.” He touched his earpiece. “Dex. Ronon, are you there?”
“Lynn?” Ronon sounded wary, and William wondered belatedly what he’d interrupted. He hoped it wasn’t a training session, or something else that couldn’t be put off. “What’s up?”
“I need your help translating one of the record plates we recovered,” he said aloud.
“Now?”
“It’s — rather important,” William said, and crossed his fingers.
There was a little silence, and then Ronon said, “I’ll be there.”
William let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and the airman looked up from his monitor. “Shouldn’t we let Dr. Zelenka know?”
“Not yet,” William answered. “For all we know, the notes say something like ‘if you ever find one of these, don’t touch it’ or ‘we used to have this, but it was destroyed’. Let’s be sure it’s actually there first.”
“OK, doc,” the airman said, and reached for his mouse.
William watched him for a few minutes, seeing the Satedan letters — typed, with handwritten notes — come into focus. Ronon would be able to read what it said, would be able to tell them if they’d just found the ZPM to go with the hyperdrive crystal thing, and all of a sudden he couldn’t stand still. He turned away from the console, paced the length of the room and back again, and the airman gave him a wary glance.
“Still working on it, sir.”
“Sorry.” William stuffed both hands in his pockets to keep from tapping his fingers. Coffee, he thought. If I go get coffee, by the time I get back, Ronon will be here and the file will be ready — “I’m going to the mess hall,” he said. “Do you want coffee?”
The airman looked at his own half-full cup, and shook his head. “No, thanks, doc.”
“Right.”
It was far enough to the mess hall that he had to take a transport chamber, though a part of him just wanted to keep walking, burn off the nervous energy. But that would take too much time — it was a fine line he had to walk. But the airman would work better if he wasn’t hovering over him the whole time.
It was mid-afternoon, and the mess hall was almost empty, just a couple of Hammond’s crew talking over a laptop at the far table, one of the mess crew pushing a broom across the spotless floor. There were a few sandwiches left, and a wilted-looking salad; he ignored them, filled another mug of coffee. He hadn’t consumed this much caffeine since his postdoc days, though then he’d been tougher about drinking it black. He added sugar and powdered creamer, and glanced out at the clouded sky. A few flakes of snow drifted by, but it was hard to tell if it was actually snowing, or if they were just blown from the buildings. Summer was supposed to be better, he reminded himself, and reached for the creamer again.
“You know that stuff explodes,” Ronon said, and pointed to the jar.
William jumped in spite of himself, and gave the Satedan a narrow look. He was never entirely sure when the man was joking… “Oh, yes?”
Ronon nodded. “Sheppard showed me, on one of those how to blow things up shows he likes. They used it to shoot off a rocket.”
“Really.” William eyed the container for an instant, then, determinedly, added another spoonful to his coffee.
“I thought you were in a hurry,” Ronon said. He had his own mug of something, William saw.
“I needed coffee,” William said. “But I’m glad you’re here. We may have found something.”
“Something useful?”
“That de
pends on what you tell me it says.”
They made their way back to William’s lab in silence, Ronon steering them to a shortcut through what looked like a service corridor. It was the first one William had seen, and he made a note to come back and examine it later. He was pretty sure he’d find out more interesting things about the Ancients in their support areas than in the soaring public spaces.
He waved his hand at the lab’s door sensor, checked abruptly as he saw Radek looking over the airman’s shoulder. Ronon made an irritated noise, and dodged past him into the lab.
“I thought — ” William began, and the airman gave him a guilty look.
“Dr. Zelenka called while you were gone, doc, asked what kind of progress we were making.”
“And when he told me, I thought I would come down and see for myself,” Radek said briskly.
“So what is it?” Ronon asked.
“There.” William pointed to the screen. “We found — well, it looks a lot like microfiche, except stiffer — ”
“Dataleaves,” Ronon said, and William nodded.
“I expect so. Anyway, it seems to be part of the museum catalog, so we’ve been bringing it into the computers so we could analyze it properly. But today we found an entry that seems to describe a ZPM.”
Ronon nodded, and the airman scooted out of his way so that he could scan the screen. William avoided looking at Radek, who was tapping his fingers lightly on the nearest table.
“You should have called me,” Radek said, after a moment, and William sighed.
“There was no point in dragging you away from the new iris — how’s that coming, by the way? — until I knew whether it was a real reference, or, I don’t know, their head archeologist’s wish list.”
“If there is any chance that we might find a ZPM, I should be informed,” Radek said.
“I wasn’t sure that’s what this was,” William answered. “It might be anything.”
“The drawing is too accurate to be guesswork,” Radek said.
“Hey.” Ronon looked up from the screen. “Do you want to know?”
“Yes,” Radek said, and William nodded.
STARGATE ATLANTIS: Allegiance(Book three in the Legacy series) Page 19