STARGATE SG-1 STARGATE ATLANTIS: Points of Origin - Volume Two of the Travelers' Tales (SGX-03) (STARGATE EXTRA (SGX-03))

by Karen Miller

  “— touch anything!” John’s words echoed back at him from the pitch darkness and he stumbled, disoriented. The ground beneath his feet was uneven, something crunching under his boots. “McKay?”

  “Yeah, hang on.” A moment later a flashlight sliced the darkness to his left. “Where are you?”

  The beam hit his eyes and John raised a hand to keep from being blinded. “Hey! Point that someplace else.”

  “Oh sue me for making sure you’re still alive!”

  Ignoring McKay’s grouse, John toggled the flashlight on his weapon. They were in a cave not unlike the one that housed the shrine, only this time there were no candles and, as far as he could tell, no door. There was a shrine, however, or at least an archway. “Any guesses what happened?”

  “Obviously we were transported here, wherever here is.” McKay had his scanner out, his flashlight clamped between his ear and his shoulder. “Huh,” he said. “That’s not good.”

  “What’s not good?”

  McKay jerked his chin toward the arch. “It’s only got residual power, and that’s draining fast. It probably charged when the shrine activated, but it can’t hold a charge of its own.”

  “You’re right, that’s definitely not good.” Reaching out, John touched the arch, brushing his fingertips across its surface. Nothing happened; it was cold, smooth like polished rock, and just as lifeless. “I really hope that’s not the only way outa here.”

  “I think it is. It’s — Oh God…” McKay’s horrified gaze followed the beam of his flashlight, playing across the floor beneath Sheppard’s feet. “Okay. Right. So I think it is the only way out — and I don’t think it’s been working for quite some time.”

  Slowly, not wanting to look but knowing he had no choice, Sheppard dipped his flashlight to the floor. It was covered in a thick coat of rubble and dust — only it wasn’t rubble or dust. It was bones. Old, crumbling bones. His gaze met McKay’s across the room. “What the hell…?”

  Rodney cleared his throat, wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, but his voice was still scratchy when he said, “I guess now we know what happened to all those lucky people chosen to spend eternity with the Ancestors…”

  “Major Lorne,” Sam called, trotting down the steps toward the gate room.

  Lorne turned from where he’d been talking with Ronon and didn’t exactly come to attention, but certainly straightened his shoulders. “Colonel,” he said, stepping forward, “the jumper reported in. No sign of our people on the planet.”

  “Any moons?”

  He shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

  “Damn.” It had been worth a shot. “Okay, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” She gestured to one of the SFs and he handed over her P90. She had to admit it felt good to hold a weapon again, to be geared up ready to go off-world. “Dial the gate, Major,” she told Lorne. “You have Atlantis until I get back.”

  Lorne hesitated.

  “Major?”

  “Colonel, I just wonder whether it would be safer for Dr. Zelenka to take a look at the device.”

  Sam frowned. “Your point’s noted, Major. Now, dial the gate.”

  “Yes ma’am.” With a nod, he headed up to the control room and Sam watched him go with an uneasy feeling.

  “He is concerned for your safety,” Teyla said, coming to stand at her side. “We have already lost one leader. No one wants to lose another.”

  Sam slid her a sideways look. “You all need to stop worrying,” she said. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  There was a bite to Teyla’s tone that Sam didn’t understand, but there was no time to ask because right then the gate began to spin. Or, rather, lights began to spin around the rim of the gate until each glyph had locked. Sam couldn’t help feeling it was a little less impressive than the spit-and-fire dialup of a Milky Way gate, but there was nothing inferior about the wormhole that kawooshed into the room a moment later. That, truly, never got old.

  “Okay,” she said, as the event horizon settled. “Let’s do this.”

  Leading the way, she entered the Stargate a step ahead of Teyla and Ronon.

  It was a short walk along a much used track to the village. The air was damp and aromatic, all loamy soil and forest; it could have been one of any number of planets Sam had visited in the Milky Way. The village too was unremarkable, the people at the level of technology to which races like the Goa’uld and Wraith preferred to limit their victims. What was less common was the gathering in the center of the small settlement, a slender man in white robes holding forth to a rapt audience.

  “What’s going on?” she asked Teyla.

  “That is Reverent Joqun, who led us to the shrine,” she said. “He believes the activation of the Ancient device heralds a return of the Ancestors…” Her gaze fixed on the young man. “It appears that his belief is spreading.”

  Sam couldn’t help but think about the Priors, holding whole communities in thrall with their pseudo-religion, and had to tamp down her kneejerk revulsion. She glanced into the trees instead. “How far is the shrine?”

  “Not far,” Ronon said. “I can take you there.”

  “Great. Let’s get going. I want —”

  “Colonel?” Teyla planted her feet, a subtle but clear gesture. “We must first gain permission from Elder Qafsiel. And we cannot enter the shrine without a Reverent.”

  “They look kinda busy…”

  “Nevertheless,” Teyla said, “those are the terms we negotiated on our last visit. The shrine is of great significance to these people, now more than ever. We must be respectful.”

  She was right, Sam knew it, but they had no idea where Sheppard and McKay were or whether they were in imminent danger. “So long as it doesn’t take too long,” she said. “Our priority is getting our people back.”

  Teyla’s eyebrows rose. “A fact of which I am well aware, Colonel.”

  “Yes, sorry. Of course you are.” Sam grimaced at her clumsiness. “It’s just — Every second might count, quite literally.”

  “My people have a saying,” Teyla said as she started walking toward the village. “The hasty path is the longest.”

  “Right,” Sam said, falling in beside her. “More haste, less speed. You’re right.”

  As they drew closer, a man detached himself from the group gathered around the Reverent and made his way toward them, gray robes flapping around his ankles as he hurried.

  “Elder Qafsiel,” Teyla murmured to Sam.

  “Why have you returned?” he said, stopping a little ahead of them. He was out of breath, his face flushed.

  “I told you that we would,” Teyla said, mild yet authoritative. “We wish to search for our people.”

  “And I have told you that your people aren’t lost — they were chosen!” His gaze fell on Sam. “You have brought another?”

  “My name’s Colonel Carter,” she said. “I’m a scientist. And I think I know how to retrieve our people.”

  “Your people dwell with the Ancestors now,” a new voice said — the Reverent, striding toward Qafsiel. “Why would you wish to tear them from such a place?” Behind him, the villagers had turned and were watching the exchange.

  Sam felt her hackles rise, sensed Ronon move behind her, adopting a defensive stance. His instinct was reassuring. “I just want to take a look at the device,” Sam said evenly. “I won’t damage anything, I promise.”

  “Device?” Joqun said.

  “I mean the shrine.”

  Qafsiel shook his head. “The shrine is being prepared for worship tomorrow morning, none but the Reverents may enter until after it is complete.”

  “I swear I won’t get in anyone’s way. But this is urgent, our people —”

  “Your
people dwell with the Ancestors.”

  Frustrated, she shook her head. “Look, the Ancients aren’t —”

  “Colonel.” Teyla gave her a pointed look. “May I speak with you privately?”

  Sam hesitated, but Teyla’s expression was insistent and so she nodded and moved to one side, away from the others. “Okay,” she began, before Teyla could speak, “I know what you’re going to say.”

  “Which is what?”

  “That this shrine is sacred to these people. I get that, but we can’t let their religion —”

  “Not just the shrine,” Teyla said. “The Ancestors, too. They are important to all of us in Pegasus. You must understand that, or you will make more enemies than friends here.”

  Sam let a beat fall. “All of us?” she repeated. “You mean you too?”

  “My people venerate the Ancestors, yes.”

  “But…” Sam tilted her head, as if the altered perspective might help her understand. “Surely you don’t believe that Sheppard and McKay are living with the Ancients right now. Do you?”

  There was another pause. “No,” Teyla said at last. “I do not. But the Ancestors were the creators of life in this galaxy, and of death — of the Wraith. They were not perfect, but we are their children. And I do not pretend to understand the mysteries of the plane in which they now dwell. I do not think many of us can.”

  “One or two, maybe,” Sam said. But Daniel wasn’t here to explain it and she sure as hell couldn’t. She puffed out a breath, not sure how to respond; she’d spent a decade fighting false gods and it was difficult to relate to people who believed the Ancients were in anyway divine. “Okay,” she conceded at last, “I’ll dial it back. But we have to get access to that shrine — we can’t just sit about waiting for their ceremony to finish. Sheppard and McKay need our help.”

  “I know,” Teyla said, her calm expression cracking. “They are my friends and teammates, Colonel, and I’m afraid for them. But we cannot simply walk over these people as if their beliefs do not matter. If nothing else, it will create more problems than it solves.”

  Sam couldn’t help thinking that Jack would have done exactly that. He would have gone in and brought his people home at any cost: no one gets left behind. Of course, Daniel would have argued Teyla’s point the whole way…

  Question was, what was she going to do?

  The cave was pretty much exactly what it looked like: a cave. John had walked its perimeter twice, trailing his fingers over the wall in search of some kind of opening. There was nothing.

  Nothing but bones. They were everywhere. How many people, he wondered, had been beamed here only to die a slow, horrible death?

  “What the hell is this place?” he said, turning away from the wall.

  McKay sat on the opposite side of the cave on one of the low benches that lined the space. His head was bent over his scanner, its blue light turning his face ghostly. “Looks like a bunker,” he said, without looking up. “Like an air raid shelter, I guess.”

  “A bunker?” That fitted — the benches, the lack of exits. “Against the Wraith.”

  “Obviously.” McKay sat back, letting the tablet fall slack in his lap. “It’s quite clever, when you think about it. The transporter is triggered by the ATA gene, so the Wraith can’t follow you down. You sit here, wait for the darts to leave, and then beam out again.”

  “Sure,” John said, taking a seat against the opposite wall. “It’s all fun and games until one day the transporter stops working…”

  McKay shook his head. “No, not one day. This is old; it’s decayed over millennia. The Ancients, or whoever they built the shelter for, were long gone before Qasfiel and his people showed up. I mean, they obviously have no idea what they’re — quite literally — playing with.”

  It was a horrible thought. “So they ended up sending their people down here instead of to heaven, or wherever the Ancestors hang out?”

  “Meanwhile selectively breeding out the ATA gene until none of them had it anymore and the ‘shrine’ stopped working.” He gave a bitter smile. “A perfect Darwinian solution, although in this case it’s more like ‘selection of the dumbest.’”

  “Come on,” John objected. “They couldn’t have known.”

  “No, but if they hadn’t believed their kids were being sent to a magical fairyland they might have come looking for them!” He closed his eyes, lips pressed tight. “Sorry. It’s just — it’s a little claustrophobic in here. I don’t do well in small spaces.”

  John couldn’t argue with that. On the plus side, they hadn’t suffocated yet. “There must be some kind of ventilation,” he said. “The air’s clean.”

  “CO2 scrubbers.” McKay gestured under the bench he was sitting on. “As far as I can tell, they’re at about 22% efficiency, which is probably good enough for the two of us, in the sense that thirst will probably kill us before we suffocate. God, I’m thirsty —”

  “McKay, quit moaning. We’re not gonna die here.”

  “Oh, aren’t we? Because the skeleton carpet we’re standing on says different.”

  John shrugged. “Okay, first of all Teyla and Ronon are going to come looking for us.”

  “Come looking for us in a cave to which there is no entrance? A cave which could be a thousand miles away from the shrine?”

  John ignored him. “Second, you’re going to fix the transporter and get us outa here.”

  “Fix the transporter?” He nodded. “Sure, why not? Maybe I’ll rub it and Aladdin’s genie will pop out and grant us three wishes!”

  “I’m sure you can do better than that.”

  “With what, Sheppard? It has no power. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t happen to have a ZPM in my back pocket.”

  “You’ll think of something.”

  McKay simmered and John let him; sometimes Rodney just needed to vent and then come to a problem in his own way.

  To pass the time, John pulled out all the rations he had with him and started breaking them down, working out how long they could last down here. After a while, he heard McKay move. He glanced up and watched him approach the lifeless arch, run his fingers along the inner edge, then crouch down and examine something at its base. A moment later a panel popped open and McKay pulled out a crystal that glowed with a pale blue light.

  “Well, well,” McKay said, tapping the crystal against his fingers. “Maybe I can hotwire this thing after all…”

  John said nothing, letting him work, and went back to counting rations.

  In the end, the best Teyla could negotiate was that Elder Qafsiel would discuss access to the shrine the following morning, once the ceremony had ended — and for an increased fee.

  Colonel Carter was not pleased, but she accepted Teyla’s advice that they spend the night in the village and meet with Qafsiel as soon as he returned from the shrine the next day. The village was modest, with no room to spare, so they had made camp on the outskirts of the settlement.

  It was not cold, neither was it warm. Teyla was comfortable enough in her Lantean clothing and lay looking at the stars through the trees that surrounded the village until sleep claimed her.

  Many years of travelling and trading had taught her to sleep anywhere; it had also taught her to sleep lightly. So it was that she found herself awake sometime later, on full alert yet perfectly still.

  Someone was moving in their camp.

  Very slowly she turned her head toward the sound of the noise, in time to see Colonel Carter disappear into the forest, the light of her scanner darting like a firebug through the trees. Cursing silently, Teyla got up and put a hand on Ronon’s shoulder. He woke like she had, fully and instantly.

  What? The question was silent, in his eyes alone.

  Teyla risked a whisper. “I believe Colonel Carter has gone to
the shrine.”

  Ronon’s eyebrows climbed. “Gotta admire that. She doesn’t take no for an answer.”

  “Apparently not,” Teyla said, sitting back on her heels. “Nevertheless, it is a risk.”

  Ronon sat up. “We going after her?”

  “I will,” Teyla said. “You go to the Stargate. If you do not hear from me by daybreak, return to Atlantis and tell them to send assistance. It will mean the colonel and I are in trouble.”

  Ronon smiled. “I can’t tell,” he said as he rolled to his feet.

  “Can’t tell what?”

  “Whether you like her or not.”

  Teyla was surprised by the question. “I believe,” she said after a moment, “that I cannot tell either. Colonel Carter is certainly determined, if somewhat reckless, but she’s not…”

  “She’s not Weir.”

  She was ashamed to admit how close to the truth Ronon was and glanced toward the forest to hide her discomfort. “Perhaps tonight will resolve the question.”

  “Yeah, perhaps,” he said. “Stay safe.”

  She turned to leave, but he called after her in a low voice. “I do, for what it’s worth.”

  Looking back, she saw him shrug. “I like her. She shouldn’t be here — should’ve stayed on Atlantis — but she’s good where it counts.” He tapped his chest. “Right here. She’ll learn the other stuff.”

  Teyla just nodded. She prided herself on her perception, but perhaps, on this occasion, Ronon was seeing more clearly than her.

  It was pretty easy to locate the shrine, the Ancient technology lighting up her scanner like a Christmas tree, and it wasn’t far away. That’s why she’d decided to risk taking a peek before dawn. She’d be in and out before anyone knew, and then she’d have a head start in figuring out where her people had been taken.