by Stargate
“What, that? Damn…” McKay saw him squint into the darkness. “From here, it looks like a bunch of gold-plated squid all trying to play the same trombone.”
“I meant, what do you think it is?”
“Well how the hell should I know? Engines? Look, you go check the squid band out, I’ll go up front.”
“Okay. Here, stash this somewhere, will you?” McKay handed him the visios, then began to clamber gingerly into the rear egg. Even if the tangle of metal in front of him hadn’t been taking up most of the hopper’s interior, the vessel would have been cramped. It was hard to see how Angelus could have spent much time there without a serious case of cabin fever.
“You know what’s weird?” he called back over his shoulder.
“What?”
“Well, you’ve seen Ancient technology before… Of course you have, we live in it… And okay, they built in a variety of styles, but they tended to follow a kind of basic pattern, right?”
“And none of this looks like Ancient tech, is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Kind of.”
“I guess. I mean, some of these controls, maybe… But you’re the expert.”
McKay nodded absently. “Yes, I am…” He held up the PDA, and watched it running through a series of basic scans. There was power in the ship, that much was obvious. Traces of heat, vibration, low-level energy output on a number of different bands. Nothing that was immediately surprising for a machine that was powered-down and left on standby. The emissions from a quiescent puddle jumper were not much different.
He put the PDA back in his pocket. It could work just as well from there.
For a few seconds he tried to get past the central mass and further back towards the rear of the hopper, but the space was too cramped. Even if he was as slim as Angelus, McKay decided, he’d not have been able to get back there without injury. Puzzled, he gave up on that idea, and decided to go back to the cockpit and see if anything there looked more familiar.
He turned. And froze, every hair on the back of his neck crawling to slow attention.
He was no longer alone in the aft section.
There had been no sound, no movement. The lights still pulsed in their soft, slow rhythm, their meager brightness rising and falling like moonlight on a sluggish sea. The interior of the starhopper was as cool and still and inanimate as it had been when he had first entered.
But McKay was being watched. He could feel it more certainly than he could feel his own hammering heart.
He tried to speak, but terror had robbed him of breath. Whatever was observing him was doing so with complete and utter malevolence, a cold rage and a hunger the like of which he had never even imagined. He was in this ship with something that was totally, utterly focused on his destruction.
“Sheppard,” he hissed.
“Hm?”
“We have to leave…” He couldn’t even blink. Every instinct screamed at him that to move was to die. “There’s… Something…”
Sheppard was rising off the couch. He must have been sitting there while he was studying the controls. “Already?”
There was a sound, far away, a metallic fluttering…
The patch of light coming in through the hatchway was changing shape, growing ragged at the edges.
The spell broke. McKay found himself rocketing forwards, all the tension built up in his limbs released in a sudden, massive burst of energy. “Out!” he howled. “Get out of this goddamn thing now!”
Sheppard didn’t question further, just launched himself towards the hatch. McKay, scrambling forwards on the slick floor, saw him dive out, the filigreed edges of closing hull snagging on his clothes, and then he too was barreling through the opening.
It snapped shut on him, the golden maw closing around him in a hail of razored teeth. He felt the blades of it on his legs as he dropped free, and icy pain as they cut through the skin…
The floor of the hangar hit him squarely across the shoulder blades. He yelped, collapsed in a heap, and rolled over, clutching at his leg. As he did so, he saw the hatchway vanish as if it had never been.
A moment later, and it would have had his foot off.
Blood was soaking out through his right trouser leg. There were long cuts in the fabric where the closing hull panels had caught him. Pain, a growing, throbbing sting, surged up into his gut. “Ow. Son of a… Ow!”
“Are you okay?” Sheppard was next to him, sitting up on the deck. “What the hell just happened?”
Mckay shook his head. “I don’t know,” he muttered. “But I think that ship just tried to kill us.”
Chapter Seven
Fragments
Ever since she had decided to bypass the authority of the IOA, Sam Carter had been preparing three dossiers in parallel. The first was, of course, a series of compiled reports for the Advisory, detailing what progress had been made on the Angelus project. The second, Carter’s dossier for General Landry, contained almost exactly the same information as the first, although the order and intent of its contents varied considerably.
The third, though, was very different. Its contents would have made no sense at all to anyone but Carter herself — in fact, they made little enough to her. And while the first two dossiers were purely digital in form, this last file was strictly old-school: a manila folder containing paper documents, many stapled together or held in place with paper clips.
There were printouts in there, photographs, scans and transcripts, reports and requisitions; a collection of papers that seemed to have no correlation to one another at all. Carter had been putting the file together for two days, now, and she still wasn’t entirely sure why. It was as though the documents it contained were pieces of a puzzle, but a puzzle she wasn’t completely sure even had a solution.
Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the file’s contents needed only to be laid out in the correct order for their meaning to become clear to her. And it was this order that Carter was trying to find when the IOA observer arrived on Atlantis.
Carter had been sitting at her desk, a piece of paper in each hand, trying to read both at once in the hope that somehow they would make more sense together than they did alone. One was a form from one of the Atlantis medical staff, one Nurse Rhonda Neblett, who was reporting the loss, possibly theft, of a series of blood samples. Apparently, even though the blood had been in test tubes and locked in up one of the medical labs, it had vanished overnight.
The test tubes had not. They were exactly as Neblett had left them.
The other sheet contained information that was even more obscure. When Colonel Ellis had reported back to Atlantis after jumping into the M19 system, all the sensor readings gathered during Apollo’s orbits of Eraavis had been compressed into a data packet and sent back through the Stargate. Most of the data was video footage, the now-infamous film of the planet’s scorched and blasted surface. In addition to this, however, were the results of all the chemical, radar and gravimetric scans that the ship had carried out while it was filming. A part of this information, translated into a series of complex graphs and charts, was in front of Carter now.
Much of it was a mystery to her: the chemical sciences were not really her field. But even with her level of knowledge she could see holes in the data. There were elements that should have been in the atmosphere of that slaughtered world that, according to Apollo’s sensor suites, were quite absent.
Together, Carter was certain that the documents in her folder, especially these two, meant something desperately important. Part of her was almost afraid to know what that might be.
A distant rumbling broke into her reverie, making her start slightly. Carter often found the world around her shrink away when she was working on a difficult problem; her perceptions would narrow, collapse into a into a single point encompassing only the mystery she was trying to unravel. It could be useful, that sheer degree of concentration, but there was a downside. When the real world decided it required her attentions, the s
witch in focus could be startling.
The rumble turned into a rising, rushing snarl. Carter put the papers back into their folder and stood up as the Stargate activated, the growl of the forming event horizon dropping back into a liquid hum. The activation was scheduled, and should have come as no surprise: Andrew Fallon, the IOA’s chosen observer, was on his way through.
Carter put the folder away, and went down to the gate room to meet him. The Stargate had shut down by the time she got there, leaving the observer standing in front of an empty, open ring of stone.
She trotted up to meet him. “Mr Fallon?”
“Colonel Carter.” He extended a hand, and she took it to shake briefly. “That’s an unusual experience, isn’t it?”
“The gate?” Carter looked up at it. “Really? I don’t even notice any more.”
Fallon blinked a couple of times, as if trying to clear his vision. “Well, if you need reminding, it’s like riding Space Mountain in a hamster ball.”
The observer was, in terms of appearance, quite unremarkable; a man of middling height and build, clean-shaven, with graying hair. His voice was soft, and his accent hard to place. He was, Carter judged, a man who was quite used to having people not notice he was there.
To some, that can be a curse. A few, though, turn it into a career.
He had a small suitcase in one hand and a coat draped over his shoulders, which told Carter that he intended to be around for a few days at least. Carter’s heart grew a little heavier to know that, but she should have expected it. Her hope that the IOA’s observer would look around, make his report and then go home again could only have been a vain one.
She dismissed it. “Do you want to settle in? There are spare rooms on the accommodation level — if you like, we can get one set up pretty fast.”
Fallon smiled. “I’d prefer that to happen in the background if at all possible. Midway has me a little stir-crazy, so maybe we could start right away?”
“Of course. My office is just up here.”
She led him back up the stairs and through the control room. He waited at the door to her office for her to go in, and then stood until she sat behind her desk. Then he set down his case, folded the coat neatly on top of it, and sat opposite her.
Precise, thought Carter, summing the man up in that single word. She patched a call down to the techs in charge of the accommodation level and asked them to set a room up, aware that Fallon was watching her carefully the whole time.
“So,” he said, when she was done. “Here we are. The seat of power.”
“I don’t exactly think of it like that.”
“Well, it’s not always a good thing. Like it says in the comics, with great power comes great responsibility. And you do bear a lot of responsibility here, Colonel.” He folded his fingers together, settling back a little into his seat. Carter could feel him weighing her up.
She half-smiled. “It’s very much a team effort. I’ve only been here three weeks, but I don’t feel like I’m bearing the responsibility alone.”
“And you’ve taken it upon yourself to manage the Angelus matter?”
Her smile died. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Angelus has been working for two days now, but the Advisory are sensing a lot of reticence in the reports they’ve been getting back.”
Carter felt herself go a little bit cold. Just how much did the IOA know? “He hasn’t complained to me.” Not directly, anyway.
“It took almost twenty-four hours to find some electric fans because the computers you gave him kept overheating. Longer to fit a bunk so he can stay in the lab and work around the clock, which is what he wants to do. He’s got no tech team, apart from Doctor McKay. To be blunt, Angelus is starting to think you’re deliberately holding him back.”
“I’ll admit there have been supply issues…”
Fallon just raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Carter sighed. “Cards on the table. Like you said, I’ve got a responsibility. And I believe I’d be failing that if I let Angelus start building death rays in my basement unimpeded.”
“Because of the danger to Atlantis?”
“Sure. You must have seen the Eraavis footage.”
“According to your last report — two days ago — Angelus says he can develop this project without alerting the Replicators again.”
“And I don’t believe him.”
“I see.” Fallon glanced about, as if taking in the sight of the office. The office, the control room beyond it, and more… “Colonel,” he said levelly. “Let me ask you this: what are you doing here?”
“Excuse me?”
“Simple enough question.” He leaned back in his seat and gestured around him. “All this. The Pegasus expedition, Atlantis, everything. What’s it for, Colonel? What are you actually doing here?”
Carter narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Mr Fallon, I’ve really got no idea what you’re getting at.”
“Okay, I’ll spell it out for you. Stargate Command had a clear purpose, at least in the beginning. Secure the gate. Make sure nothing bad came in from outside. Once they failed in that remit, and bad things started coming in anyway, the purpose was expanded — gather technologies, information and alliances to help protect Earth.”
“I know,” Carter grated. “I was there.”
“Which is why I don’t understand your position, Colonel. Seriously, what is Earth getting out of Atlantis? What new technologies developed here are making things better for the people at home? How many of Earth’s homeless are you housing? How many hungry people are you feeding?” He nodded at the techs working outside. “Because from where I’m sitting, Atlantis is a drain on resources and personnel that could be better used elsewhere.”
“You won’t find that a popular opinion in these parts, Mr Fallon.”
“I wouldn’t expect to.”
Carter leaned towards him. “Listen, right now Atlantis the only thing standing between Earth and the Wraith. If it wasn’t for the alliances we’ve made here, the information we’ve gathered and the continual vigilance of the people in this city, then the Wraith would be on their way through the gate and everyone on Earth would find themselves on the menu. Hungry and homeless alike.”
Fallon smiled. “I’ve heard some twisted reasoning in my time, but that about takes the cake.”
She stared. “I beg your pardon?”
“Colonel, if there had never been an expedition to Atlantis the gate here would still be at the bottom of the ocean on Lantea. If Weir’s people hadn’t blundered into the Wraith they would never have become the threat they are. If your local braniacs hadn’t screwed around with the Replicators’ core programming you wouldn’t be in the middle of an interstellar war.” He shook his head, wearily. “Do you know what you’re actually doing here, Colonel? Damage control.”
Carter opened her mouth to yell him out of the office, but stopped herself. She took a deep breath and unbunched her fists. “Care to explain what you mean by that?”
“Colonel, you’re no fool. You know exactly what I mean: ever since the first Stargate was dug out of the sand we’ve been in trouble. The Goa’uld, the Replicators, the Wraith… The universe has proved itself, over and over again, to be full of enemies. Enemies that didn’t even know we were here until you people started poking them with a stick. And every time you wake some new species of cannibal psycho you stumble around, get people killed, and then find a way to hold them off for a while by blundering good luck. Tell me, does that really seem like an appropriate use of resources to you?”
“So what would you rather do, Fallon? Hide in a cave and wait for them to come to us?”
“Not any more. You’ve poked too hard. If the Stargate had been left under the sand, if O’Neill hadn’t blown up a System Lord saving a few grubby throwbacks on Abydos, if Weir hadn’t dragged this city up off the seabed and told the Wraith all about us, we’d probably have been left in peace long enough to come up with our own solutions. But not now.�
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He stood up. “This project has put the whole of Earth into deadly jeopardy, and now your job is to do something about it. And guess what? The opportunity has just fallen into your lap.”
Carter was on her feet too. “I don’t believe Angelus is a solution. Considering what happened to Eraavis, I think he’s as dangerous as any enemy. Right now, he’s the stick we’re poking the Asurans with.”
“Weir poked them long before you got here, Colonel. Thing is, you’ve got a chance to do something worthwhile here, to make Atlantis mean something. And it looks to me like you’re doing everything in your power to obstruct that.”
“Mean something? Are you insane?”
“Bottom line, Colonel — as far as the Advisory is concerned, Angelus is developing a weapon that can protect Earth from the threats you’ve stirred up. And if that costs us Atlantis, then that’s a fair trade.”
“You have got to be kidding,” she hissed.
“I’m not. From now on, you’ll not only offer Angelus every assistance, you’ll also cease any attempts to impede his research. You’ll assign him a tech crew and any expertise he’ll require. I’m under strict instructions to report all progress back to the Advisory on a twice daily basis, and if I see something I don’t like we’ll pull Angelus back to Earth and set him up with a lab there.”
“Earth?” Carter stared at him, horrified. “Fallon, he screwed up on his own planet and the Replicators melted it —”
“The Replicators are a long way from Earth. But you know what? You’re right — if some part of this weapon does attract the bad guys, maybe it would be better if they came here rather than to Earth, hm? That way, only a few hundred people will die in flames and not six billion.”