Of course the door was locked, and its control panel demanded a password. He started trying passwords he knew Rodney used, both ones he'd watched Rodney enter and the ones Jeannie Miller and Radek Zelenka had painstakingly worked out during Rodney's absence. Finally one of them worked, and the door slid open.
Most of the room was empty. A computer was set up in one corner, on a table cluttered with bags of snack food and bottles of soda, most unopened. Pieces of Ancient laboratory equipment sat in the opposite corner of the room, none looking like they'd been in frequent use. Overhead, thin gray light filtered in through the skylight, now glazed with ice.
Several crates were stacked under the table, and Ronon pulled them out cautiously. The first two crates he searched were full of various electronic parts, most of which Ronon couldn't identify, but none of which could possibly be Hyperion's weapon.
He was starting to think he was wrong when he opened the next crate. Resting on a tangle of circuit boards and wires was a simple rod with a sphere at one end, looking as if it had been carved from a single block of naquadah.
Hyperion's weapon.
It was warm in his hand when he picked it up, which Teyla hadn't mentioned. Ronon frowned. They'd all learned to treat Ancient devices that grew warm or glowed with caution. That was usually a sign that they'd been activated by someone who had the ATA gene, the Ancestors' legacy that let a lucky few of their descendants use their technology.
Ronon didn't have the ATA gene, and the gene therapy that sometimes activated it hadn't worked on him. But John and Rodney both had it, and they'd both handled the weapon. John might have left it in the box Teyla said they'd found it in, but Rodney obviously hadn't, because the box was gone.
And of course Rodney hadn't left it in the box. He would have taken it out and handled it, at least for a few minutes, trying to find some clue to how it worked. That might well have been enough to activate it, priming it so that anyone could use it.
Some devices didn't work that way, like the puddlejumpers; even after they were turned on, it took someone with the gene sitting in the pilot's seat to make them fly. But some did. It was entirely possible that he could use the weapon. It was entirely possible that he was holding in his hand a weapon that he could use to kill all the Wraith in the galaxy.
The weapon moved in his hand, shifting, and Ronon stiffened, wondering what he'd done, his heart racing. The globe was peeling apart, its pieces shifting, some sliding down the rod to form the familiar shape of a trigger, others now strongly resembling the muzzle of a gun. What he held in his hand now, its oddly slick material still unmarked, was unmistakably a weapon.
If it could do this, why didn't it do it for McKay? That was a question for the scientists to answer, but he thought he might have a guess. Most of the Ancient devices responded to thought – no, that wasn't right. To the will. The force shield they'd once found had been like that; Rodney hadn't been able to turn it off until he'd truly wanted it to turn off.
Rodney had been altered by his ordeal more than the others wanted to admit. Even if he wasn't compromised, he was still acting like he thought the Wraith were people. And maybe he was compromised. Either way, he wouldn't have held Hyperion's weapon in his hand and thought about how much he wanted to wipe out every last Wraith in the galaxy.
Ronon's hand opened convulsively, the weapon dropping with a clatter back into the open crate. Every last Wraith, and all the humans who were victims of Wraith experiments, or descended from their victims. That's what Teyla had said would happen. That using the weapon would kill Teyla and Rodney and everyone else with the Gift along with all the Wraith.
And could he say it wouldn't be worth the price?
Of course it wouldn't be worth it, he told himself firmly. Teyla and Rodney were his friends, his family, and he would have willingly died to protect them. But there had been a time when they would have just as gladly laid down their own lives to save humans from the Wraith. At least, Teyla would have done it gladly; Rodney would have done it in frightened, furious resentment, his racing complaints about the unfairness of their imminent deaths somehow adding up to his own kind of courage.
But they weren't going to do that now. They were going to find a way to destroy the weapon, despite the fact that destroying it meant letting the Wraith go on killing and killing and killing. Letting it go on when he could stop it right now by pulling a trigger.
He picked up the weapon again and let it lie in the palm of his hand. It was heavy for its size, a warm weight that invited his hand to curl around it. He held it for a long moment, and then put it away in his coat.
No one knew he'd found it. The Wraith might be kicking up a fuss about the weapon being missing, but they'd probably get over it. It wouldn't hurt to hold onto the weapon just for a little while, until they had a better idea how their forces stacked up to Queen Death's. What if they destroyed the weapon and then realized it had been the last hope of ever freeing humans from the Wraith?
He could always hand it over to Carter to destroy. But once it was destroyed, they couldn't get it back. John might be willing to hand over their last card that way, but Ronon wasn't. At least not yet.
He closed the storage crate and stacked them the way he'd found them, heading back out of the room toward the stairs. Hyperion's weapon nestled in his pocket, warm and heavy; his fingers caressed it, just for a moment, before he forced himself to let it go.
Chapter Three
Face to Face
Jack O'Neill balanced his paper plate containing one slightly misshapen doughnut on top of his cup of coffee and hugged his tablet more tightly under his elbow. There were days when he missed the old-fashioned briefing folder, and this was one of them: the consequences of dropping a folder or spilling coffee on it were a lot less dire than they were even with the supposedly hardened tablets. He had yet to meet a computer that could stand up to the usual day-to-day work of the SGC, never mind battle conditions. And he was, he admitted, doing his best not to think too hard about the upcoming negotiation. It was all too clear to him that there was no way Atlantis was going to be able to stand up to Queen Death without Todd's help, and that meant allying with people who had, over the past six years, done their level best to eat the Atlantis crew. On balance, that shouldn't feel worse than what the Goa'uld had wanted, but somehow this felt... personal.
Woolsey was there ahead of him, of course, a tall travel mug his only concession to the hour. It was filled, Jack knew, with half-caf sweetened with a single packet of artificial sweetener and topped with a splash of skim milk, and for a moment he really missed Daniel's extra sugar habit. Todd was there, too, smiling toothily at Woolsey, and as Jack took his place at the table, the young queen Alabaster arrived, trailed by Marines and one of her human escorts. He was big and blond and carried a plate piled with doughnuts, which he seemed to be urging on Alabaster. Jack couldn't hear what she said, but she accepted a small piece of the pastry, her smile almost human. One of the Marine escorts opened the door, and she came to take her place beside her father, sniffing curiously at the doughnut. The big blond leaned against the wall across from the Marines and began to eat, his honor apparently satisfied.
"Colonel Carter is not here?" Todd – Guide – asked. Beside him, Alabaster took a careful bite of the doughnut, cocking her head as if considering the taste.
"Colonel Carter has been delayed," Woolsey said. There was an edge of annoyance in his voice. "She will be here as soon as possible."
"I do not see the point in beginning without her," Guide said.
"I am sure Colonel Carter will find a way to destroy Hyperion's device," Woolsey began, and Guide showed teeth.
"But if she cannot, then our discussion is moot."
Jack took a sip of his own coffee. It felt really weird to be eating in front of the Wraith, considering, but he shoved that feeling down. "I have every confidence in Carter."
"I'm sure you do," Guide answered. "And I have no doubt of her technical ability, either."
/> He let the rest of his thought hang unspoken – he doubted their willingness to destroy the device – and Alabaster said, "As you have said yourself, the Lanteans have much to lose themselves by using the device. Let us at least discuss what shape some alliance between us might take."
Guide glanced at her, then shrugged one shoulder. "As long as it is understood that the destruction of this device is not negotiable. Until it is destroyed – until we see it destroyed – we have no incentive to help you."
"Except that Queen Death wants you dead, too," Jack pointed out.
Guide gave him a sidelong glance. "It is possible that we will treat with her, attain some terms. We are all Wraith, after all. Surely you do not wish to give us a common threat."
"I can't see Queen Death letting you, or Alabaster here, live," Jack said bluntly. Woolsey looked pained, but didn't intervene. "Alabaster's a rival, and you keep finding ways not to help her. All Queen Death is going to do is get rid of you."
"But if the choice is between the death of all my kind, and my own demise?" Guide let his voice trail off. "Ask Colonel Sheppard what I would do to save my people."
That I don't doubt, Jack thought. And I don't want to push him too far.
Woolsey gave them both a reproachful look. "As we have said before, we don't even know if this so-called device will function, or if it will do what it is claimed it will do without having unforeseen side effects. Even if it only does what it was apparently designed to do, that still places some of our own people at grave risk. I do not believe that this is a choice any of us wish to make."
"If Carter destroys the weapon," Jack said, "what are you willing to do to help?"
"To stand with you against Queen Death," Guide answered. Was he smiling? Jack wasn't sure how to interpret the twist of his mouth. "Which you need as much as we do. Alone, neither of us can withstand her fleet. Together...."
"That depends on what you have to offer," Jack said.
Guide did smile this time. "Teyla Emmagan will have given you Steelflower's strength in detail."
"Absolutely," Jack said. "Except for whatever's changed since she left."
"It has happened before that certain specifics have been – elided," Woolsey said, his eyes on his tablet.
"That has been a fault on both sides," Guide said. Alabaster laid her hand on his wrist, and whether it was a simple warning or silent conversation, he seemed to relax slightly. "As you know, there are two hives at the core of our alliance, mine – Steelflower's – and that of a young Queen who has allied with her as a sister. Since Queen Steelflower left us, we were joined by a third hive, who fled Queen Death when she demanded they despoil their own territory. Sadly, their ship was badly damaged, and I do not believe they will be of much use in battle. However, they have Darts in plenty, which will be placed at our disposal. The former consort of Queen Iceheart, who was killed by Queen Death, has brought three cruisers to join us as well – Teyla Emmagan is well aware of him. And there are others, a considerable number of others, who will hold off from any combat for as long as possible. They do not love Queen Death, but they cannot see their way clear to oppose her."
Jack nodded. All of that dovetailed nicely with the reports on his tablet, though it meant that, at best guess, Queen Death's fleet still outnumbered them. On the other hand, they had the Hammond, and Daedalus, when it returned from Earth, and those tough, Asgard-designed ships had proven themselves more than a match for Death's cruisers.
"Of course," Guide said smoothly, "it would be far better to wait until your missing ship returns before we confront Queen Death."
"Can't argue with you there," Jack began, and Woolsey put a hand to his ear.
"What? No, I –" He broke off, his frown deepening. "Very well. I'll come at once." He took a deep breath, pushing back his chair. "Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I've just received an urgent message. General O'Neill, I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Right," Jack said, but Woolsey was already gone. He glanced at his tablet, but there was neither text nor email: Atlantis business, then, and he just hoped it wasn't a new disaster. Guide smiled at him, showing teeth, and Jack did his best to match him.
The usual Marine escort was waiting when Ladon Radim came through the Stargate. Ladon submitted to seeing his men escorted away, but did not volunteer to hand over his sidearm. The young captain didn't ask for it, either, and Ladon couldn't tell if it was an error or if the Lanteans were worried enough by what he'd told them that they weren't going to draw out the preliminaries. They followed the captain up the stairs and across a corridor – not to the usual meeting room, Ladon noted, but a place more private. He lifted an eyebrow at that, but it was too soon to guess what it might mean. He settled himself at one end of the narrow table next to Varelon, accepted an offer of coffee – Varelon needed it, even if Ladon himself disliked it – and composed himself to wait.
Woolsey did not delay long, arriving on the heels of the coffee. He looked vaguely unkempt, as though he hadn't slept, and Ladon's attention sharpened. Either the Lanteans had already heard his news, or there was some other trouble afoot.
"Mr. Radim," Woolsey said, extending his hand, and Ladon took it with a slight bow.
"Mr. Woolsey. I apologize for my insistence, but the matter is urgent."
"So you said." Woolsey seated himself on the opposite side of the table. For once he didn't have any of his subordinates with him, and Ladon wondered again what was going on. "And – forgive me – if it is that urgent, I hope we can speak plainly."
"Certainly," Ladon said. The simple shock of it should work in his favor. "We have received information that Queen Death has launched an all-out attack on Atlantis. This is Varelon, who has been our primary agent among the Wraith. He left his post to warn us, so that we could warn you."
Woolsey's expression didn't change, though Ladon thought his hands tightened on the edges of his tablet. "Can you give me more details, Mr. Varelon?"
Ladon nodded, and Varelon took a shuddering breath.
"I have been in place as a Wraith worshipper for four years," he said. "In the household of the Wraith his people call Terror. He is commander of a larger cruiser, one that carries a full Dart contingent, and he allied himself with Queen Death seven months ago. Three days ago, Death summoned all her people, committed commanders and distant allies alike, and announced that her fleet would move at once to attack Atlantis. Those summoned were given the choice to join her or die. Two other hives and six cruisers had answered the call before I was able to steal a Dart; there may be more still. But I made it to one of our hidden bases, and from there I came straight to Chief Ladon with the news."
"How long did it take you?" Woolsey asked.
"The fleet should have embarked by now," Varelon answered. "They were forty-three hours out when I left."
Woolsey's eyes flickered, doing the math, and Ladon said, "I make it thirty-two hours left, Mr. Woolsey."
"Yes." Woolsey's mouth was a thin line. "If you'll excuse me a moment, Mr. Radim?" He rose without waiting for an answer, and went to the door. He spoke to the Marine guard, and then into his radio, and Ladon caught snatches of the words, orders for an expanded sweep at the limit of Atlantis's sensor range. "And now – you're certain of this? We've known for some time that we were eventually going to have to face Queen Death's fleet."
"Varelon wouldn't abandon his post for anything less dire," Ladon said. "I hope that your second warship has returned from Earth."
Woolsey's lips were almost white. "Regrettably, it has not."
"I have the agreement of the ruling council to offer you the assistance of our own Pride of the Genii," Ladon said. "In exchange for tissue or DNA samples that would allow one of my people to pilot it properly."
"I don't know if that will be possible," Woolsey said.
"You wouldn't want to burden one of your men with the task," Ladon said. "There will be enough to do merely to fly your own machines."
"And do you really think that two cruisers will be
enough to provide an effective defense against Queen Death?" Woolsey glared across the table. "Particularly if she has the kind of fleet your man describes."
"We can buy time for you to move the city," Ladon said. "You would, of course, be welcome on any of our worlds."
"I'm sure –" Woolsey broke off, touching his radio. "I see. Thank you, Dr. Zelenka." He looked back at Ladon. "Our long-range sensors are picking up no sign of a Wraith fleet."
"Perhaps your sensors are not quite as effective as you believed," Ladon said.
"If there is a Wraith fleet thirty-two hours from orbit, we should be able to see them," Woolsey said. "I'm sure you understand that I cannot take such drastic action without more proof than this."
"I know our peoples have had their differences," Ladon said carefully. This was not going precisely as he'd planned. "But you know as well as I do that neither one of us can stand alone against the Wraith."
"It is true," Varelon said. "I swear it." His hands were shaking badly. He snatched them out of sight, but Woolsey frowned.
"What's wrong with your agent?"
Ladon said, "He has spent the last four years as a Wraith worshipper."
For a moment, Woolsey looked blank, and Ladon wondered if he would have to explain. He'd do it, of course, but he'd rather spare Varelon's feelings, particularly since he was already in the throes of withdrawal. Then Woolsey's face changed, and Ladon allowed himself a sigh of relief.
"In that case," Woolsey said. "I have a – proposition for you, Mr. Radim. If you and Mr. Varelon would come with me?"
"Of course." Ladon rose, hiding his uncertainty. What was Woolsey up to now?
He and Varelon followed Woolsey down a short stretch of corridor, the Marine guard tagging along at their heels. Woolsey lifted his hand, opening the door, and gestured for Ladon to precede him. "Er – Guide, Alabaster, may I introduce Mr. Ladon Radim, Chief of the Genii?"
SGA-21 - Inheritors - Book VI of the Legacy Series Page 4