Mirror, Mirror

by Sabine C. Bauer

  "Alright," Elizabeth said and rose. "Rodney, Radek, look into it and keep me posted."

  Damn.

  Around the table, the others were getting up to leave. Rodney stayed nailed to his seat, wrestling down an impulse to order everybody back into their chairs. They had no idea of the ramifications, did they? HAL did exist. HAL was sitting in a lab down the hall.

  When Weir passed, he cleared his throat. "Elizabeth? May I have word, please?"

  It brought her up short. "Did I miss something? You've got permission to experiment with that computer to your heart's content."

  "That, uh, would be the problem." He got to his feet, partly because he figured it would be polite, partly because having to look up at her had triggered an incoherent memory of his piano teacher, dripping disappointment as she told him his playing was `adept'. "Maybe we should... take it a little more slowly."

  Stupid choice of words!

  "Let me get this straight, Rodney. You are telling me we should hold back on exploring a new piece of technology?" Eventually her amusement faded, and she gave him a hard stare. "Is there anything you neglected to mention just now?"

  "No! No... it's just... a hunch."

  "A hunch?"

  Was there an echo in here?

  "It's not the hardware I'm worried about. It's the software. If Ikaros is a true A.I., we're dealing with an entity who can think several orders of magnitude better and faster than any of us. And while I understand and appreciate the possibilities of a breakthrough in quantum computing better than anyone, I also... Well, what if Ikaros does a HAL? Goes nuts? Or powercrazy? Or simply throws a tantrum? We'd be dealing with an unstoppable quantum-driven genius."

  "Rodney, we've been dealing with you for two years."

  Easy, Rodney. Just stay calm. Calm. Breathe... "Very funny. For all we know we might be handing Ikaros the proverbial loaded gun by tampering with that computer."

  "Then I suggest you be ready to pull the plug before Ikaros pulls the trigger. But unless and until it comes to that, I'd like you follow up on every option that may improve our operational security."

  "Look, Elizabeth, I've got one word for you: Arcturus." That one word just about stuck in his craw. But if humiliating himself was what it took, fine.

  Her reaction wasn't what he'd expected, and maybe he should have expected that. The expression on her face softened. "Rodney, after Arcturus I was this close"-her thumb and forefinger pinched an eighth of an inch of air-"to sending you back to Earth. Accompanied by a comprehensive list of reasons why I was sending you back."

  He swallowed. "It would have ruined my career."

  "Hardly." Elizabeth flashed a brief smile. "But it might have made you think. I'm glad to hear it wasn't necessary. Having said that, I don't want to see you lose your... zeal, for want of a better word. We need it, which, coincidentally, is why you're still here. So, by all means, go ahead and... have fun!" Shooting him another smile, she left.

  Fun? Rodney stared after her for a moment. Maybe she was right. Maybe he'd just lost his cool. His gut told him otherwise, but he chose to ignore it. For now.

  Heaving a sigh, he packed up his conventional, non-quantum, non-entity-possessed laptop, stepped out into the hallway, and almost collided with Sheppard, who'd parked himself outside the conference room.

  "You okay?" he asked.

  "Of course I'm okay," snapped Rodney. "Your teenage double may be about to vent us into space, so why wouldn't I be okay?"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Charybdis -4441

  by that particular gate had worked when countless others had refused to cooperate countless times was beyond him. Some kind of reverse glitch maybe, but he wasn't going to question his luck. When he emerged from the gate he indulged in a brief, ecstatic moment of believing he'd finally made it home.

  Home.

  Just when had he started thinking of Atlantis as home?

  Since first setting foot in it, quite possibly. It had felt right in a way nothing and nowhere else had in a long time. Each expedition member had been allowed to bring one personal item. He'd brought a second-hand copy of Tolstoy's WarAnd Peace, which probably said all there was to say about his emotional ties to Earth.

  Atlantis had been a new start and a family.

  John figured he should have known better than to care. He'd been quite content in that bubble where fate could only be decided by the flip of a unit coin, because he refused to care. His bad for allowing the bubble to pop. Payback was a -bitch.

  The Atlantis he'd known was gone. In time-honored human tradition they'd got too curious, too cocky, too greedy. The upshot had been wholesale destruction. Not just of Atlantis, and he'd never understood why he had survived. Perhaps it was punishment. He could have stopped it. Rodney McKay, of all people, had urged caution...

  And trips down memory lane never did anyone any good.

  The jumper came to a halt, and he could hear the soft hum of the bay doors closing somewhere beneath. John sagged back into the pilot's seat, shut his eyes, and allowed himself two seconds rest. Given the chance he'd sleep a year, but right now that was out of the question. Because this, whatever it was-delusion, chimera, mirage-wasn't Atlantis, and he wasn't home, and he probably wouldn't be alone for long.

  Don't fall asleep!

  His eyes snapped open, and he launched himself from the seat as if it'd suddenly caught on fire. In the rear compartment he snatched his P90 from a bench, routinely checked that it was loaded, and opened the hatch. The jumper bay was empty, not that he'd expected anything else. Coming in, he'd caught a glimpse of the dust sheets covering most of the control center, and they'd been a dead giveaway. Still, he was convinced he'd seen movement from the corner of his eye, and as long as he couldn't be absolutely sure that it'd been a reflection or something of the sort, he'd be better off assuming that it'd been a Wraith.

  No, wait...

  The Wraith hadn't made it.

  Then again, he shouldn't have either.

  "So assume it is a Wraith," he ordered himself and cautiously moved down the ramp, P90 spot-welded to his cheek.

  Try as you might, you can't walk noiselessly in combat boots, not on concrete anyway, and his footfalls sounded absurdly loud, highlighting the silence around him. Even if he didn't know full well what had happened, hadn't lived it, this thick hush alone would persuade him that this wasn't his Atlantis. His Atlantis had never been quiet, even at night. Too many people, too many people too busy, and it'd been his job to protect them. As far as failures went, his was a doozy.

  Again he shoved the thought away. It was in the past. The whole notion of past had become strictly relative, of course, and John was sure Albert Einstein, while unconvinced by quantum physics, would have appreciated the irony. Time itself had flipped out of sequence, and what once was a stable fourth dimension had turned into a fractured, disjointed game of pinball-played on at least five different machines. Apparently he had the doubtful distinction of being the ball.

  The door into the hallway door whooshed open, and he froze for a couple of seconds, listening. Not a sound, apart from his own breathing. He hadn't forgotten the blur of motion he'd seen on arrival, but whoever or whatever it was, it didn't lie in wait here. If it didn't come to him, he'd have to go to it, simple as that. He pulled the life-signs detector from his pocket, doubting it would work-in addition to time, Ancient technology too had been thrown out of whack. At least that was his best guess, based on the fascinating places he'd gotten to visit between a temperamental puddle jumper and an all but dysfunctional gate system.

  Much to his surprise, the detector seemed to work, and according to it, he'd been right twice over. There was somebody else here, a lone bright blip, erratically straying along the fringes of the control center. Other than that, Atlantis was completely deserted. He felt a chill streak down his back and fought the temptation of just turning around, getting into the jumper, and heading the hell back out. Wherever he ended up next, it had to be better than a dead city, hi
m, and Unknown Life-Sign. Unfortunately, running wasn't his style.

  Yeah, and look where it got you!

  Frowning, he started down the hallway as quickly as he could, only braking when he got to the stairs.

  "Crap!" he whispered.

  Of course the Ancients had invested some thought into making this stairwell the only access from the jumper bay to the city. Any intruder wanting to get in could be picked off coming down the stairs. It had never really occurred to him that, one day, he might be the lucky schmo doing the intruding. He checked the life-signs detector again.

  The blip hovered indecisively on the gallery of the control center, giving the impression that it hadn't drawn the same strategic conclusion as Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. Then again, though its current position didn't offer a clear shot, it was a good place for watching who was coming down from the jumper bay without being seen oneself.

  Okay, make it quick and pray the stairs aren't booby trapped.

  He took a couple of deep breaths, ducked from cover, and flung himself down the stairs, keeping low all the way down and diving behind a shrouded console as soon as he hit the gallery. None of the nicely executed acrobatics brought a reaction from his invisible friend. So far, so weird. The life-signs detector showed the blip retreating into a corridor. That left two possibilities: either Unknown Life-Sign meant to lure him someplace more to its tactical liking, or it was as spooked as he.

  Somehow he leaned toward the second option.

  Time to break out the charm.

  Slowly he rose from behind the console. "Don't run away! I won't hurt you. I promise!"

  The blip resumed its hover. It wasn't coming any closer, but at least it had stopped heading away. Then it screamed. Going by the pitch it had to be a woman, and if he hadn't known any better, he'd swear there were three of her. The smartest course of action probably lay in catching the banshee and shutting her up before he lost his hearing.

  As he ran across the gallery part of him took in his surroundings. The DHD-uncovered for some reason-with the mainframe display rearing behind, dark and inactive; what used to be Elizabeth's office; the conference room, all dead and abandoned, as though the expedition had never come here at all. And maybe it hadn't. This bracing thought carried him out into the corridor.

  And then he saw her. She stood at the far end of the hallway, as if frozen in terror. Not a Wraith. She wasn't screaming now, and he forced himself to slow to a walk, to raise his hands-if she wanted to kill him, she could have done so already, and aiming a gun at her wasn't designed to put her at ease.

  An ankle-length dress that must have been white at some point drooped from a too-skinny body. It was filthy and tattered, perhaps the only item of clothing she had. Her hair, unkempt for weeks or months and puffed into the wild frizz of a bag lady, was shot with gray and touched her shoulders. Somewhere between panic and madness, she stared at him, eyes wide, irises rimmed with white, and John stamped down on an urge to turn and run after all.

  "You're dead," she hissed.

  "Ditto." He was surprised he could speak at all.

  "You're dead." This time it sounded almost plaintive. Without warning, her legs gave, and he barely caught her before she sagged to the floor.

  Floor.

  Sitting down.

  Not a bad idea, considering that his own knees had turned a little wonky, too.

  Leaning against a pillar for support, John carefully eased himself and Dr. Elizabeth Weir to the ground. He wondered if this was how it had felt for Ronon to find a handful of Satedans still alive. Then, in a wash of exhaustion, adrenaline and relief cancelled one another out, and his eyes slid shut again.

  Charybdis +32

  "What are you doing, Major Sheppard?" Teyla had just returned from checking the place where the villagers left their gifts for her and was stowing away a basketful of fruit and tuttleroot. She could hear him shuffle around in the back of the cave but was unable to connect the noise he made to any specific activity. Whatever it was, though, it occasioned a worrying amount of muttering and groaning. "Major?"

  "I'm trying to keep your place from flooding," he grunted, words compressed by effort. "That tremor... this morning... dropped a rock... into your... stream and"-the sudden loud clatter was accompanied by splashes and enthusiastic curs- ing-"Ow! It's out now." And he evidently had overbalanced and taken a dive into the stream.

  She chuckled. "I distinctly recall asking you to stay put and rest your leg."

  "Teyla, it's been three weeks. If this leg gets any more rest, it'll start to ferment. Or grow fungus. Or whatever things do when they're not used."

  How well she remembered it, this broken-winged impatience with a body that wouldn't do his bidding. "I believe the word you're looking for is heal, Major."

  "Very funny. So, given that the quakes are a regular occurrence, why do you stay here? Aren't you afraid the cave's gonna come down on top of you one day?" He seemed to have recovered the crude crutches Wex had made for him, hoisting himself back to his feet and hobbling toward his cot.

  "The cave won't collapse. You'll see why soon enough."

  The cot creaked, indicating that he must have sat down. "How about now?"

  "Give it time."

  "My leg is fine."

  "I doubt that, Major Sheppard. And even if it were, your hands surely are far from fine."

  The silence that greeted her observation was answer enough. The bums on his hands had been deep and were slow to heal, and using crutches-or rolling boulders, for that matter-had to be painful. But perhaps his urgency had a reason. Perhaps he sensed something she couldn't. Perhaps they had no time.

  And perhaps she simply dreaded the thought of having to send him away. She stalled. "How wet did you get? Do you require fresh clothes?"

  "No. Thanks. The fire'll dry me out quickly enough."

  Teyla sniffed the air, decided that he was being polite. The fire smelled as though it were about to die. She stoked it, put a couple more logs on the hearth. Then she went about squaring away the rest of her alms. Not much this time, but she wasn't complaining. Winter had been hard and the first crops were a long way off yet. The villagers had to use their remaining supplies sparingly, and since most didn't know that she had an extra mouth to feed-most wouldn't approve if they knew-her rations had dwindled, too. She'd make do. And she'd see to it that her charge got fed properly. He'd need his strength for what lay ahead.

  "You haven't... shown me what happened next," he said suddenly.

  No, she had not. With good reason. The linking of minds had proved more draining on both of them than she had anticipated, quite possibly because he was human, not Wraith. He simply hadn't been well enough to try again. Until now.

  "They activated that computer again?" he asked.

  "Yes, they did."

  "And? McKay and Zelenka worked out quantum communications?"

  "No, they did not."

  They didn't? Why not?"

  "It became of secondary importance when Ikaros made them, as you say, an offer they couldn't refuse. An offer your military leadership couldn't refuse."

  He stirred. "Am I right in assuming that this was a bad idea and Ikaros turned out to be my evil twin?"

  "A little of both. Although I don't believe Ikaros's intentions were evil." Guided by years of knowing the exact place of each item in her cave, she walked over to the cot, felt his hand on her arm, easing her to sit next to him. She clapped her fingers over his, gently pulled him into the link. "I believe he truly meant to help."

  Charybdis ±0

  Elizabeth woke with a start, drowsily blinking into black and unable to tell what had woken her. The mystery was solved when-her-radio gave another squawk.

  What in the name of-

  "Elizabeth? Elizabeth! Oh, for heaven's sake, you can't be asleep now! Wake up!" the radio chattered into the darkness of her room.

  Reaching over to where she'd last seen the bedside table, she limply padded around until her fingers brushed the
small radio set. As it turned out, she'd grabbed it the wrong way and poked the stalk mike into her eye while attempting to find her ear. It didn't improve her mood.

  "Do you have any idea what time it is?" she barked when she'd finally managed to fiddle the earpiece into place.

  "Twenty-three past two. Why?"

  "In the morning, Rodney!"

  "Yes, I am familiar with the twenty-four hour clock. Thank you, Elizabeth. Now that that's cleared up, would it be too much to ask for you to come over to the computer lab? McKay out."

  Murder had never struck her as a particularly viable approach to handling interpersonal issues, but she was contemplating it now. The other alternative was simply ignoring Dr. McKay. Which would last for... oh, five minutes, tops, before he radioed her again. That aside, she was too irritated to go back to sleep.

  "Alright," she muttered, rolling out of bed. "You got it, Rodney."

  Yawning, she donned pants and a t-shirt and raked her fingers through her hair by ways of getting rid of a rare case of pillow-head. She seriously doubted that Rodney's state of mind would permit him to take in any details of her personal grooming.

  A few minutes later she burst through the door of the lab. To her surprise, John Sheppard was there, looking like she felt, bleary-eyed and punch-drunk. Evidently, he'd been thrown out of bed as well. The really amazing thing about it was the fact that Rodney was still alive and apparently unharmed.

  "About time," he observed, not bothering to look up from his laptop. "What took you so long?"

  "No idea," she said, suppressing that recurring urge to throttle him. "This had better be the cure for cancer or, at the very least, a permanent solution to our little Wraith problem."

  "Door Number Two," John said sleepily. "According to Zelenka. Sorry `bout the cancer cure."

  "Radek's here, too?"

  By way of an answer, John cocked a thumb toward the back of the console. Zelenka was crouched behind it, tinkering with what looked like a holo-laser array. "You know, it would really be a lot easier if we just connected Ikaros to the mainframe," he lobbed across the console at Rodney.