Angelus

by Stargate

  But if someone else were to undertake such an investigation; someone, perhaps, with motives separate from Carter’s… Someone who had been lied to, expertly and directly, by the Ancient, and wanted to prove it? Well, in that case, the Colonel could not be held responsible.

  Teyla had heard Sheppard speak of such things in the past. He used phrases like ‘plausible deniability.’

  Whatever the concept was called, Teyla understood it perfectly. She also understood that she was being used, played quite effectively by Colonel Carter. She was quite aware that some people considered her proud, although she preferred to think of herself as simply confident in her own abilities. And when it looked as though those abilities had failed her, it was only natural that she would feel driven to learn all she could from her failure.

  Carter, in only three weeks and with so many other things on her mind, had already learned that about Teyla Emmagan.

  Later on, Teyla might get angry about that. But for the moment, Carter’s plans and her own meshed well. She would play the new Colonel’s games, for her own benefit. If Angelus was able to lie so effortlessly to her, and make her believe his lies so conclusively, then she needed to know how he had done it.

  She spent some time writing and submitting her report on the Malan debacle, which also gave her time to mull over the situation with Angelus. It was a puzzle knowing what to do, at first. Her immediate thought had been to march down to the lab and confront the man, but she quickly realized that would solve nothing other than to alert Angelus — and his IOA guardian — to the fact he had been caught in a lie. If there was a quick way of having the Ancient taken to Earth and getting Carter into serious trouble, it would be the direct approach. Teyla, after giving the matter some thought, decided that caution would be better.

  Her next idea was to ask McKay about his calculations, and exactly what he thought about the location of Eraavis, but the man was off-world, on some kind of mission with Ronon and John Sheppard. So instead, Teyla called Franklyn again, and asked his friend’s name.

  Later that afternoon, Teyla made sure she just happened to be in the mess hall at the same time as Alexa Cassidy. After some nimble maneuvering, she found herself sitting opposite the young woman with a tray of random food items in front of her. There was a shift-break in progress, and the mess was crowded: making sure she got close to the physicist had been difficult enough, without the distraction of paying attention to what she was ordering.

  She sat for a few minutes, toying with a plastic bowlful of some sickly-looking dessert and watching Cassidy push food absently around her own tray. After a time the crowd in the mess began to thin out. The man on Cassidy’s left finished his meal and walked away, then the one on her right. Teyla had anticipated that Cassidy wouldn’t rush back to Angelus after her break, and she was right. It was only when the mess was nearly empty again did the woman push her untouched tray aside and stand up.

  Teyla looked up at her, directly for the first time. “Alexa?”

  Cassidy frowned behind her glasses — they were large, and made her look rather owlish. “Yes?”

  “May I speak with you?”

  “Ah, Ma’am? I’ve really got to get back.” She was looking at Teyla warily, obviously unsure why she might warrant this sudden attention. They had never spoken before, after all. Teyla realized that if she didn’t take control of the conversation quickly, the woman would bolt. She seemed the type to do so; bookish, unsure of herself.

  “I am sorry, Alexa. I know you are busy with the Ancient’s project — but I am here because of Mr Franklyn.”

  “Bob?” Cassidy sat back down, slowly. “What’s wrong?”

  “With him? Nothing. But he is worried about you.”

  “Damn it.” The woman looked away. “I told him not to say anything.”

  “He knows you are unhappy with your current assignment. I believe he suggested you request a transfer.”

  Cassidy nodded miserably. “Fat lot of good it did me, with that IOA hawk standing right there. Look, I’m in enough trouble already…”

  Teyla took a chance. “Alexa, please. What is it about Angelus that frightens you?”

  The woman froze, and stared at her for a long moment. Then she got up. “I have to go,” she breathed.

  Teyla stood too. “Let me help you.”

  Cassidy didn’t reply. She simply turned and walked briskly away, out of the mess hall.

  Teyala watched her go, cursing herself. She had played that badly, and lost one of her main lines of enquiry. Now she would have to try something different.

  Glumly, she put her finger into the dessert and brought it to her mouth. It tasted exactly as she had imagined it, which didn’t improve her mood at all.

  Much later, when darkness had fallen, she went down to the lab where Angelus worked.

  She had been mulling Franklyn’s words over in her mind, trying to make sense of his insinuations. He seemed certain that Cassidy was afraid of Angelus, or at least of something that had occurred in the lab, but what could that be? By all accounts, the Ancient was a model of politeness. Teyla herself had not perceived the slightest threat from him — he had been quiet, helpful, almost gentle. She could not find it in herself, even after all she had seen, to believe him so radically different with Cassidy than he had been with her.

  There was his work, of course. The design of his super-weapon would frighten most people, if they truly understood it. But again, Teyla couldn’t quite reconcile what she knew of Cassidy with that kind of attitude. According to Franklyn, she was a most dedicated scientist, one whose enthusiasm for the applications of high-energy physics had not only seen her rise to the upper levels of a discipline that was thoroughly dominated by male academics, but had done so while she was still in her early twenties. If anyone would remain unafraid in the face of whatever the Ancient’s weapon could wreak, it would be her.

  Which left something else… Something Teyla could only discover by seeing it for herself.

  The way to the lab was a little convoluted, but Teyla had an excellent sense of direction, and before long was entering the long, railed cloister. On the other side of that, and through a short, angled corridor, lay the Ancient’s lab.

  He would almost certainly be there. Rumor had it that a bunk had been set up in the lab for him, so he could take periods of rest without leaving his work. However, it was late. Teyla would be surprised if she found Cassidy and the other techs still at Angelus’ side at this hour. She stepped into the cloister, shivering slightly at the sudden coolness of night air. And then, as she reached the first corner, she saw something move in the opposite corridor.

  Warily, Teyla slid further back into the shadows, and made herself immobile. She could see shadows moving fitfully in the open corridor entrance. Someone was approaching.

  She waited. The shadows grew more defined until, a few seconds later, two men in uniform emerged from the corridor. Teyla didn’t recognize their faces, but they were marines, no doubt from the guard post Sheppard had set up at the entrance to the lab. Perhaps they were going off-shift, although she was certain she had seen no-one else going in. She relaxed a little.

  But then, as the two men walked along the other side of the gallery, Teyla became aware that there was something very strange about them.

  The cloister was long, but quite narrow. Although the marines were on its far side, when they came to the corner they would turn towards Teyla and see her. Watching these two, she suddenly had no desire at all for that to happen. Instead, she eased herself down behind the rail, crouching with her face to the gridded metal supporting the handrail. From there, hopefully, she could see and yet not be seen.

  The marines were closer now, halfway along the gallery. And Teyla realized what it was about them that disturbed her so.

  They were walking utterly in unison. Teyla had seen soldiers march before, and even the most highly trained warriors still retain a degree of individuality when they move. Everyone’s bones, after all, are differ
ent, even in the smallest ways. Everyone’s muscles are made and stressed and worked according to those bones. Two men, even if they were the exactly the same height, the same build, trained the same way, would not have moved so completely alike as these two.

  Twins could not have moved so.

  There was no communication between the two marines, either. Not a word passed between them as they walked along the gallery. And even when they reached the end of the cloister — turning towards Teyla’s hiding place behind the rail — they didn’t pause, or falter, or make way for each other. They walked back into the corridor as smoothly and as faultlessly as two machines.

  After a minute passed, Teyla let out the breath she had been holding and stood up from her crouch. The marines would, at that pace, be well into the city’s corridors by now.

  She moved quickly along the cloister, keeping close to the rail. She was almost at the corridor entrance when there was a sound far behind her, a scuffling footstep.

  It didn’t sound at all like the steady, mechanistic tread of the marines, but Teyla froze anyway, then slid back out of the light again, scowling. Her attempt at a covert observation of Angelus looked like being thwarted at every turn. Maybe she should just give up, and come back on a quieter night.

  There was a man on the gallery, on the same side as her, looking right at her.

  No, she thought, he was looking for her. He had frozen in place, just as she had, and perhaps he had sensed her there. But he couldn’t see her. He was peering, leaning forwards to see, the meager light of the gallery reflecting from his glasses.

  It was Radek Zelenka. What reason could he have for being in the cloister so late at night? He normally spent his time investigating the hidden functions of Ancient devices, or being verbally abused by McKay. Often both. But here, now? There was no sense to it.

  She supposed it was possible that Carter had tasked more than one expedition member to observe the Ancient for her, but Zelenka would have hardly been Teyla’s first choice for the job. Far more likely that he was here of his own agenda.

  Or that of Angelus.

  It was a strange thought, but after seeing the two marines acting so inhumanly it was not one she could shake easily. The night’s events had left her feeling unsure, almost disconnected. Even Zelenka, a man she had known for some years and who have never shown her the slightest malice, seemed wrong to her, his very presence alien and malign.

  For the moment, Teyla decided, she would remain hidden. Better, in this lonely corner of the city, to be the observer rather than the observed.

  Zelenka began to walk towards her. By his stance she could tell that he had not seen her, and it was a simple thing for her to move out of his way and still not be spotted. In fact, he passed within a few meters of her, completely oblivious. All the more reason to think he was not part of Carter’s surveillance plan.

  Once he was into the corridor, Teyla peeked around to watch him walking towards the guard station. She saw him pause there, look into the open door. No-one was there to greet him: it appeared that the two marines had indeed deserted their post.

  Zelenka stood looking into the station for a few seconds. What was he seeing there?

  Abruptly, he backed away, glanced quickly over his shoulder, and then carried on along the corridor. He was moving slowly, trying to be quiet. Teyla watched, just a little amused by his efforts, as he walked up to the entrance to the lab.

  When he got there, he stopped. Something inside had caught his attention, but he seemed unwilling to go in. For almost a minute he stood there, a perplexed expression on his face, intent on what he was seeing.

  In the deep, night-time silence, all Teyla could hear was the distant rustle of waves and her own hammering heart.

  Suddenly, Zelenka turned away from the lab and began to walk quickly back towards her. Teyla moved back from the corridor entrance, hugged the gallery wall and listened to his footsteps get closer. There was a pause in the footfalls, as if he had stopped partway along the corridor, and when they resumed they were faster, more purposeful.

  From the other direction, the other end of the gallery, Teyla heard more footsteps. Distant at first, but heavy, slow, perfectly regular. She cursed silently.

  Zelenka was hurrying back up the corridor now, his pace increasing. He slowed as he reached the corridor entrance, though, and Teyla watched, perplexed, as the man halted, and then slowly raised his hand to stare at what he held.

  It was a pistol. Teyla suppressed a gasp.

  Too late. She saw Zelenka tense as he heard her. She snapped a hand out, grabbed the gun and twisted it out of his grip. He yelped in shock, a sound far too loud in the stillness of the gallery, and with the footfalls getting closer one she could not afford to have him repeat. She swung him around, pushed him quite hard against the corridor wall and clamped her free hand over his mouth. “Do not move,” she hissed into his ear. “Please.”

  He struggled for a moment, but even with her hand gripping the pistol Teyla was strong enough to keep him in place with her forearm alone. Instead, he mumbled something high and frightened against her hand.

  “I am sorry,” she replied, her voice an urgent whisper. “I should have told you not to speak either.”

  He opened his mouth again, but Teyla increased the pressure against his chest just enough to make him reconsider. She could have held him there for as long as she wanted, but the machine-regular footfalls along the gallery were getting closer.

  She leaned close to him, put her mouth to his ear. “You are going to do exactly what I tell you, yes?” she said.

  Zelenka nodded.

  “Good. Come on.” She moved away, and pushed him, gently but urgently, towards the lab.

  At her prompting, he began to move reluctantly back the way he had come, ducking reflexively into a sort of awkward crouch. Teyla came up alongside him, gesturing with the gun barrel. The footfalls were too close for speech, now. She couldn’t risk the marines hearing her. In a moment they would be at the end of the corridor, and she and Zelenka would be in plain sight.

  She grabbed his jacket and pulled him sideways, down behind the guard station, hoping he wouldn’t stumble against it or make some other sound. Thankfully his skills at self-concealment were up to this particular task, and he folded himself into the shadows behind the station without fuss. Teyla squeezed in next to him, keeping her head below the level of the plexiglass, tensed and ready to leap, the gun held white-knuckle tight in her fist.

  The footsteps halted. Teyla heard the door to the guard station open, movement from inside, the creak of a folding chair. Then the door was closed, and the second chair protested under weight. After that, silence.

  The marines had returned to their guard duty.

  As far as Teyla could see, there was only one place that Zelenka could have found a pistol in that corridor, and she didn’t want to be around when the marines noticed it was missing. She turned back to the scientist and gestured again, miming a path low around the guard station. Zelenka, wisely, must have decided that compliance was the most sensible course of action, so when she set off, scampering silently away with her head still below the level of the plexiglass, he followed in kind.

  When they were both around the far corner and into the gallery, quite out of sight, she stopped, pulling him to a halt close to the wall. “Radek, what are you doing out here?”

  She heard him swallow nervously. “Are you going to put the gun down?”

  “No.”

  “Teyla, you and I haven’t exactly been the best of friends, but how long have we known each other?”

  Her face hardened somewhat. “That remains to be seen. Now, what were you doing?”

  “I don’t know!” He was having a hard time keeping his voice low; it kept trying to rise into a nervous squeak. “I swear… Look, I was with Colonel Carter, we were working on something. I thought it might have a connection to Angelus or his lab, but when I looked in he was…” He shrugged helplessly.

  “H
e was what?”

  “Acting strangely. I don’t know. But I didn’t want to go in after that. So I came back.”

  Teyla lifted the gun, saw him flinch away from it. “And this?”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time…” Zelenka looked embarrassed. “Actually, no, it didn’t. I really have no idea why I took that.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “That makes no sense.”

  “It doesn’t?”

  “No.” She lowered the gun. “But neither does anything else tonight.”

  “I’m glad I’m not the only one who thinks that.” He ran a hand nervously back through his hair. “Do you think we should —?”

  A scream, high and sudden, cut through his words.

  It had come from the lab. Teyla saw Zelenka spin away at the sound of it, a reflex reaction that would have had him running if she’d not grabbed the back of his jacket again and stopped him dead. “You are going the wrong way.”

  “That’s a matter of opinion.”

  “I know that voice. Come on.” She shoved him back in to the corridor, and followed him in.

  She had been right in her assessment of who had screamed: Alexa Cassidy, clad in a white lab coat, was standing in the middle of the corridor. The two marines were standing in front of her, barring her way.

  Teyla left Zelenka dawdling and ran up behind them, holding the gun low, out of sight. “What is going on here?”

  Cassidy was sobbing in terror, incoherent, trying to speak past great gulps of breath. “Something’s… They tried…”

  “Alexa, please calm down. You are safe now.”

  “No.” The physicist shook her head. “Not safe. Please let me go.”

  The marines were looking back at Teyla. Their eerie synchronous motion was nowhere to be seen now; they moved just as anyone would. Teyla saw one of them — a Lieutenant DeSalle, by his nametag — look past her as Zelenka walked reluctantly up the corridor.