by Jo Graham
John clearly felt the same, because he fired, a short burst of bullets that spat against the ground between him and the nearest of the creatures.
The nearest bushes went up like a torch. There were cries of alarm from the creatures, several of them backing out into the cleared section of dirt. It looked to Daniel like they had a clear path to the river. Teyla was already moving, and he followed her, shrugging out of his pack on the way and scrambling through the underbrush toward the river bank with its straps hooked over one arm.
The bank dropped off more sharply than he was expecting, and he slid more than scrambled down into the water. There were nets in the shallow part of the river, too, supported by floats, and as he reached them, two of the creatures splashed into the water, paddling toward him. They weren’t particularly speedy in the water, but they beat their legs powerfully, churning along with what seemed like determination.
He tossed his pack over and then tugged out a knife and slashed the net, squirming through and then diving, making for the middle of the river where the current was stronger. He stayed under as long as he could, his lungs burning, before he finally broke the surface and rolled over onto his back, lifting his head to make sure the others were following.
They were, and although one of the creatures was pursuing, kicking along like a malevolent paddleboat, they were already outdistancing it. It seemed safe enough to retrieve his pack, now bobbing in the current, and to keep hold of it as he swam. When he looked back again, their pursuer had apparently given them up as not worth the effort, and was clambering out on the opposite bank from the one where a fire was now blazing through the scrubby trees.
He kicked against the current, letting the others catch up to him; Teyla was swimming against the current to get back within earshot. “How far do you want to go downstream?” he called.
John looked back at the milling creatures, several of whom were now hauling nets weighted down with dead or struggling animals across the river, out of reach of the fire. They were still chattering to each other, in what Daniel had to guess was at least a rudimentary language. “A good long way,” he said. “Let’s give them plenty of room.”
The water was probably barely cool, but after the blazing heat of the fire it felt cold on his skin. He swam doggedly downstream, entirely on board with the decision to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the hostile birds.
“What was that?” John said abruptly, rolling over in the water and looking around.
“What was what?” he called.
Ronon kicked abruptly in another direction. “There’s something moving in the water. Something big.”
“I think we’ve gone far enough,” John said. He started making for the bank, and Daniel followed his lead.
Something broke the water in front of John. Daniel was expecting the smooth slickness of a fish’s back, or maybe the scales of something crocodilian. Instead, he had a quick impression of something streamlined but feathered. It surfaced again, and he could see its beady eye, tracking Daniel as it swam, and its six-inch long beak. The beak looked decidedly sharp.
Another one breached behind Daniel, and as he splashed away from it he got a better close range look at the thing than he particularly wanted. It looked like a penguin, he decided a little incredulously, if penguins were mud-colored and as big as Teyla. Another one surfaced, and then another, swimming in swift bobbing motions along the surface of the water between Daniel and the nearest bank.
“I hate to say this, but I think these things are hunting us,” John said, as two of them cut off his route toward shallower water.
“We are very big to be prey for these creatures,” Teyla said.
“Maybe they’re ambitious.”
Teyla rolled over with her P90 in her arms and sighted at the nearest of the swimming birds, but held her fire. “If I shoot one, it may drive them off, or spur them to attack.”
“I could stun them,” Ronon said.
“But can you stun them all before they attack?”
“Sure,” Ronon said, rolling over almost lazily and sighting on what Daniel could only think of as a giant penguin. “Couldn’t you?”
“Well, do something,” Rodney snapped. “Before we wind up penguin food.”
“You’ve seen these things before?” Ronon said.
One of them darted forward and struck at John’s pack, which he had been towing along beside him as he swam. The pack jerked out of John’s hands and disappeared under the surface of the water. “Hey. Hey!” John called indignantly.
“Better your pack than yourself,” Teyla said. Several more of the creatures were now diving toward the submerged pack, and after a moment items that Daniel recognized as Air Force issue began floating to the surface.
“I notice they didn’t take your pack,” John said.
“Yes, that is fortunate,” Teyla said, ignoring his sour tone. Daniel had a clear path now to the bank, and swam hard for it, hauling himself up into the shallow water and slogging through the mud toward the bank. The rest of the team was in shallow water as well, Ronon shaking out his hair and Rodney churning the water in his eagerness to reach the bank.
“We have penguins on Earth,” Rodney said. “They’re just not terrifying.”
“Then these aren’t penguins,” Ronon said.
“Close enough.”
Teyla looked at Daniel in concern as he dragged himself up the bank and well clear of the water, his leg aching with every step. “Are you hurt?”
“That would be a yes,” he said, and sat down heavily. In the river, the birds were still fighting over the remains of John’s pack. Two of them had found an MRE, and appeared to be trying to consume it packaging and all.
Daniel rolled up the remainder of his pants leg and let her bandage the deep scratch neatly. Ronon had a long scrape down his arm, but didn’t seem to consider it worth paying attention to at the moment.
“I’m thinking we get out of sight of the river, and then wait it out for a while,” John said. “If you’re hanging in there, Dr. Jackson.”
“Daniel,” he said. “And, yeah, I don’t think I’m currently heavily bleeding, so that’s probably a good idea.”
They stomped some distance away from the river, until they could no longer hear the sounds of splashing or see the water through the bushes.
“We should camp reasonably close to the river in case there’s another fire,” John said. The grass here wasn’t burned, although the wind was carrying the smell of smoke.
“But not close enough for the giant penguins to eat us,” Rodney said.
“Yes, not that close, McKay.”
“Are we going to make camp?” Ronon said. “We aren’t that far down river.”
“It’s probably not a bad idea,” Daniel said. “I’m guessing our friends back there are the ones who originally set the fire—”
“Nice of them,” Ronon said.
“They are hunters,” Teyla said.
“Burning the grass to drive game into their nets,” Daniel agreed. “Only we got in the way. I don’t know if we pissed them off, or if they just figured we’d be good eating, but either way, the more time we give them to take their catch and clear out, the better.”
“In about ten hours they’ll dial the gate to check up on us,” John said. “If we haven’t made it back to the site by then, I’ll tell Lorne to come give us a ride.”
They made camp where the bushes thinned out into dry grass. It would have been comfortable if their gear hadn’t been soaking wet, and if they had dared to heat up any of their food; as it was, it was tolerable. Daniel ate his cold dinner and leaned back against his backpack, looking up at the darkening sky.
He could almost hear Jack saying are we having fun yet, kids?
“You know, archaeology doesn’t have to be like this,” he said conversationally to the first stars, now hazily visible against the deepening blue.
“Welcome back to Pegasus,” John said.
SGA-22 Unasc
ended
INTERLUDE
The grandmother hugged Elizabeth one last time. “I hope you find your people,” she said.
“I hope so too.” Elizabeth hugged her back, tears stinging her eyes unexpectedly. Truly she had been taken in by these people, treated as one of their own when she had nothing to offer, a rare and extraordinary kindness.
The grandmother dropped her voice. “Not all of the Travelers are good people, and they’re sharp traders. But our Ring is in orbit. If they will take you to a gate in their travels, you can dial Sateda. You remember the address I gave you?”
Elizabeth nodded. “I do. And thank you.”
The last people were filing in amid goodbyes, the ship’s ramp still extended though everything had been packed away and the Mazatla were moving back to a safe distance. Elizabeth waved once more to Kyan and his father, then hurried aboard.
“This way,” Atelia said, leading her through a maze of improvised passages and ductwork. “Just stay out of the way during the lift, and we can talk when we’re in hyperspace. Here you go. This one’s yours.” She stopped in a narrow section of hallway. There were four bunks built into the walls, two on each side, with a thin foam mattress on each and a plastic curtain. One was drawn back to show the niche was empty except for the safety belts that would allow someone to strap in.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She only had a small bundle, a change of clothes given her by the Mazatla, and she clipped it to one of the straps within.
“I’d advise you to strap in for lift,” Atelia said quickly. “It can be rough. And sometimes the grav generators don’t work right.”
“I’ll be careful,” Elizabeth said. She settled back into the bunk as Atelia hurried away, her head pillowed on her bundle as she fastened the seatbelts and drew the curtain. The yellow light fixture blinked, probably warning takeoff, as a slow rumble began somewhere beneath her. The ship’s main engines were coming online.
A scratchy voice came over an intercom. “Getting ready for power up. Everybody strap in. Don’t unstrap until I give the word.”
That was straightforward enough, Elizabeth thought. The roar and vibration grew. Should she be frightened? Wouldn’t someone planet-bound usually be? And yet she wasn’t, not really. Had she traveled on a space ship before? If so, when? Where those memories should be was nothing but blankness. Elizabeth closed her eyes as the vibration turned to shaking, presumably the actual lift in progress. Why couldn’t she remember? What had happened to her? Surely it was there somewhere, like these tantalizing flashes that came at odd moments, scenes of a life interrupted. There must be a way to find it.
She flexed her hands, willing her fingers to relax, stretching them against the leg of her pants. Relax. Deep breaths. Perhaps if she could relax, control her breathing, let the tension flow out, she would find her way. Relax.
The vibration was less now, a soothing sort of motion rather than shaking. Relax. Her eyes closed, her breath coming quietly. Around her, the shipboard noises were comforting rather than distracting, the sounds of machines and people going about their business, distanced by the curtain across her bunk.
Like a dormitory, she thought. Like a dormitory…
The light awakened her, bright through the curtainless window. It was open, and the warmth of an August morning blew in through the leaves of the old tree outside, the voices of students coming up from the walk below, the traffic sounds a distant blur. The breeze smelled of the river and sunshine.
Elizabeth opened her eyes. The other bed was empty, peach comforter pulled up, the clip light on the metal bed frame turned off. Her roommate had already left.
She sat up, pushing back the covers and taking a deep breath. Her blue and white rug covered the scuffed hardwood floor. Her plastic bins were stacked beside the dresser, her boombox plugged in beside the mirror, her suitcase unzipped on the dresser top where she’d gotten her pajamas out the night before. The digital clock said it was seven thirty.
Seven thirty of the first day. Her heart leaped. The first day, her first day of a new life, her first day on her own. Her first day, and these moments alone to savor it in her own place before she went in search of breakfast and the ten o’clock advisor meeting. The first day.
She got up, turning in the light from the window, a small, slow smile beginning. She turned on the boombox radio.
“…big pile up in the northbound lanes of Key Bridge, blocking two lanes at the Rosslyn end. Our advice is to take Memorial this morning, folks. It’s going to be a while before they get it cleared. And that’s your go-to traffic this morning! We’ll be back on the hour with the latest. To get you going, here’s John Parr’s Man in Motion from the hit movie St. Elmo’s Fire!”
The opening chords of one of her favorite songs washed over her, and Elizabeth turned the radio up, buoyed by sheer joy. She was here, and this was the beginning! She was finally here!
A noise, and Elizabeth snapped back to herself. The plastic curtain swayed. “I’m sorry,” Atelia said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I didn’t realize you’d gone to sleep.”
“It’s OK,” Elizabeth said. The rumble of the engines was distant and constant now. She unstrapped the waist belt and sat up. “I didn’t mean to go to sleep.”
Atelia was watching her thoughtfully. “You must be used to space travel.”
“I must be,” Elizabeth said. She had remembered something on purpose, though what it told her was still a mystery. A dormitory, and being a very young woman… It poured away like water through her fingers, whatever happened next, the name of the place, of all those she’d known there.
“You can rest if you like,” Atelia said. “It’s two full watches before we reach our rendezvous point.”
“Where is that? A planet?” Elizabeth got to her feet.
“No.” Atelia shook her head. “We’re smarter than that! We choose random coordinates in deep space for our meetings, and we never use the same ones twice. That way the Wraith can never guess where we’re going to be and wait in ambush for us.”
“They would do that?” The Wraith were a mystery still, for all she had supposedly suffered at their hands.
“Some hives are smart enough to. A lot of hives leave us alone as long as we leave them alone, but sometimes they come after us. Who knows why.” Atelia shrugged. “They’re Wraith. They don’t have to make any sense.”
“Even your enemies usually make sense,” Elizabeth said. “We do evil things because we’re evil only works in bad fiction.”
Atelia gave her a sharp glance. “Then you don’t know the Wraith,” she said. “Or you’re not Satedan. Because there is no reason and there is no excuse.” She turned to go.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Elizabeth said, feeling her eyebrows rise. “I remember very little, so I don’t know.”
The set of Atelia’s shoulders changed a little. “I know,” she said. She turned back briskly. “Well, if you’re awake I’ll show you where to get something to eat. We’ll be in hyperspace for a long time. And once we reach the rendezvous you can see if one of the other ships will drop you at a gate if that’s what you want.”
“I think so,” Elizabeth said. She followed Atelia forward down the corridor toward a common room small enough to be crowded with half a dozen people, including an old man holding Atelia’s baby on his lap.
A genuine smile crossed Atelia’s face. “Hello baby! Hello sweetheart!” She reached down and took him, lifting him onto her shoulder. “How’s mama’s baby? How’s Jordan?”
Elizabeth stopped, halfway to picking up a mug from a hook above the counter. “Jordan?”
“That’s his name.” Atelia turned with him in her arms. “Jordan, can you smile for Elizabeth?” The baby crowed cheerfully. She frowned at Elizabeth. “Is something wrong?”
“No, not at all,” Elizabeth said, taking the mug. “I think I’ve heard that name before. That’s all.” Though why it should seem strange eluded her completely. It was just a name.
; SGA-22 Unascended
CHAPTER FOUR
It was a long walk back to the site, made even longer for Daniel by his aching leg and the lack of coffee. Rodney complained about the lack of breakfast until Ronon pointed out that he was the one who’d decided it was too dangerous to use the heaters, at which point he switched to complaining about the length of the walk, until John elbowed him in the ribs and then claimed it was an accident.
Ronon supplemented his breakfast with the roasted remains of some unfortunate small animal that had been trapped in the fire. “Want some?” he said, holding out a charred leg.
“No, thank you, I’ve had my daily dose of deadly pathogens already from jumping in the river,” Rodney said.
“Tastes like chicken,” Ronon said, and offered it to Daniel instead.
“No, thanks.”
“I thought archaeologists were supposed to eat whatever people offer them,” Rodney couldn’t help saying.
“First, you’re thinking of anthropologists, which I’m actually not, and, second, yes, if I were trying to make cultural contact here, I would eat the… what is that?”
Ronon turned the leg around in his hand. “I have no idea.”
“Right. But I’m not, and I don’t think this is exactly traditional Satedan food we’re talking about here.”
“I would not eat that either,” Teyla said firmly.
“Your loss,” Ronon said. “At least we didn’t invent MREs.”
“It’s military rations,” John said. “You must have had military rations.”
“Sure, but ours don’t taste terrible.”
Once they neared the site, they proceeded more cautiously, weapons at the ready. As John pointed out, everything that could burn in a several-kilometer radius had already burned. The ground was still hot, smoke rising from the charred grass, and Rodney appeared to be trying unsuccessfully not to breathe.