"Oh, absolutely! And then your friend Ikaros takes over each and every system of Atlantis. Which, I can't emphasize enough, is perfectly within the realm of possibility and should have occurred to you before we even started this."
"Jde mi to na nervy," Zelenka growled to himself and added a couple of oaths that were new to Elizabeth. She decided against translating.
"He kinda reminds me of Hermiod when he does that," whispered John, gently listing in her direction.
"More hair," she whispered back.
"More clothes."
The air above the console began to stir and flicker, seemed to congeal for a moment, and then vanished into, well, thin air again.
"If that's what you guys drummed me out of bed for, I'm gonna be seriously pissed," John observed casually.
Rodney spared him a withering glance. "Given that some of us haven't been to bed at all, perhaps you should stop obsessing about your beauty sleep."
"Nobody ordered you to-"
"Je u± malem cas!" A blend of triumph and satisfaction in his voice, Radek popped up from behind the console like a glove puppet. "Try it now!"
This time it wasn't a stir and flicker; a charge of energy sizzled through the air, and Ikaros shimmered to life. "I cannot believe you people ever managed to find Atlantis, let alone get here!" The boy wore black Special Ops BDUs and a frown. "If I'd known that a simple technical task would take this long, I'd have done you a drawing."
"What's with the costume?" Elizabeth asked, baffled.
It brought a huff from Rodney. "For some unfathomable reason, he appears hell-bent on emulating the good Colonel here."
"There's good news, too," Zelenka chimed in. "In all essential things, such as character, social skills, and general affability he takes after Uncle Rodney."
"I'm glad you didn't include intellectual brilliance," said Ikaros, and going by his moue of disdain he meant every word of it.
McKay ignored him, suggesting that this kind of exchange was a regular occurrence, but Elizabeth gave a small hiss. She was beginning to understand why Rodney had reservations about giving Ikaros access to the Atlantis mainframe. Why he had reservations about Ikaros, period. "Is he always like this?"
"I believe you people consider it impolite to refer to some one actually present in the third person," Ikaros pointed out. "If you have any questions, Elizabeth, feel free to address them to me directly."
Elizabeth?
"That's `Dr. Weir' to you," John snapped, before she could say it herself.
"Why? You call her `Elizabeth. "'
"You're not me."
"Certain, uh, privileges have to be earned," she explained, trying to defuse the tension, only remotely worried about the fact that she was attempting to pacify a machine. Whether she liked it or not, Rodney's warning still resonated. Well, what if Ikaros does a HAL? Goes nuts? Or power crazy? Or simply throws a tantrum? To all intents and purposes, this machine was a teenager, and it was the wrong time of day for dealing with teenage fits of temper. "For now let's stick with `Dr. Weir,' alright?"
"Fine, Dr. Weir." The kid smiled at her. "I've got to earn it, yes? How much would you bet on the fact that you'll let me call you `Elizabeth' as soon as we're finished here?"
Suddenly she had a niggling suspicion that waking her and John Sheppard in the small hours of the morning hadn't been Rodney's idea at all. Could a hologram be bored? "I don't bet," she said curtly-hedging her bets.
Ikaros shot her a knowing grin, as if he'd heard that little wordplay in her mind. It wasn't the insolence that unsettled her, it was the scary intelligence looking out from behind John's eyes. Not that John-the real one-was stupid by any stretch of the imagination, but what she saw in his juvenile doppelganger defied human terms of intelligence. Hardly surprising. She had scoured the Ancient archives for references to Ikaros and had finally found what amounted to a footnote-short but chilling.
The boy-the flesh-and-blood version-had been identified as exceptionally gifted, even by Ancient standards, and the Council had ordered him enrolled in a special study program. He'd out-studied, out-thought, out-smarted his teachers within months and begun to rebel against the dogma handed down by the Council, which he considered to be narrow-minded and restrictive. The only one of his teachers with whom he continued to have any kind of productive relationship was Janus, already chomping at the bit himself. Student and teacher must have fueled one another's defiance and creativity, but when interviewed by the authorities after the fact, Janus claimed that he'd had absolutely no knowledge of Ikaros's project, said that, had he known, he'd have prevented the boy from going through with the experiment at any cost. It might even be true, because what Ikaros had done was outrageous even by Janus's standards.
Having designed and built a computer prototype capable of sustaining artificial intelligence, he'd then proceeded to upload his own mind into the device. However he had done it-documentation was vague on that-the process had caused a massive power surge, crippling Atlantis's systems. By the time the systems were back online and the cause of the problem discovered, it had been too late. The men dispatched to investigate and help if necessary had found Ikaros's lifeless body next to the computer. The device had been disabled and the lab sealed, pending further investigation-which never had happened, because the war against the Wraith had outweighed all other concerns. According to the archival materials, the experiment had failed, Ikaros had been buried, and the Lanteans had mourned the loss of a promising young mind, and that had been that. According to the archival materials.
In actual fact the experiment was anything but a failure, which raised the possibility that the Ancients had been terrified by the notion of a boy genius whose cognitive abilities were vastly enhanced by a computer; terrified enough to lock the room, throw away the key, and forget about the whole thing. The question was whether the Lanteans' apprehension had been justified. Rodney seemed to think so, but-
"Yes, well, sorry about the little delay," he said. "Mastermind here wanted to do his very own PowerPoint presentation, so we had to synchronize external holo-lasers with his and make them interactive."
"I told you that linking me to the mainframe would have simplified the procedure to no end," Ikaros cut in.
"Yeah, let's not go over that again. Just do your thing. There are people waiting here."
"Your wish is my command." The boy gave a mocking little bow. As he straightened up, he took a deep breath and the adolescent smirk transformed into a shy smile that highlighted his uncanny resemblance to John Sheppard. "First of all," he began earnestly, "let me say how grateful I am to you. Being locked in a box, even a box with some amazing circuitry, for ten thousand years does tend to get a little... tedious. I owe you, and a long time ago my parents informed me that it is wise always to repay one's debts. I'd like to do so now. My friends, I'd like to present Charybdis to you."
"As in Scylla and?" John asked.
"I... don't think I'm familiar with that reference." Ikaros gave a small, baffled frown, as though his being unfamiliar with any kind of reference were entirely inconceivable. And perhaps it was. Then he smiled again. "You'll see. Just watch."
A second holo-laser fired up, its image congealing into a solar system whose primary was a red giant in the last stages of expansion. What was left of its planets-three small worlds, none of them sporting any moons-orbited despondently, as though aware of what their future held. The image zoomed in on the innermost planet. It was small and arid, without discernible climate zones other than desert, and seemed devoid of life.
"We've got it registered as M5P 878," Rodney announced to no one in particular.
"When and how did you come up with this bizarre way of naming planets?" asked Ikaros, then obviously decided he'd rather not know the answer, because he carried on. "We call it Mykena Quattuor. The sun is Mykena. As you can see, it'll turn supernova within a relatively short timeframe-I expect another two thousand years at most-but its system is already dying. It was one of the reasons why
we chose Mykena Quattuor as the Charybdis site."
"Who's we?" John threw in.
"Janus and I. I gather you are aware that Janus's preferred area of research was fourth-dimensional physics. I refined and expanded on some of his theories, and together we devised a method of modifying carefully selected timelines-Charybdis."
The holographic image changed, simulating the view from a jumper, chasing above the surface at about three thousand feet. The destination of the virtual jumper seemed to be a structure that sat in the middle of a vast, desolate plain. It reminded Elizabeth of an enormous geode turned inside out, a crystalline dome that shimmered in the somber red light of Mykena.
"Charybdis," Ikaros repeated, nodding at the structure. "Well, the outer shell that houses the prototype at any rate."
"Which timeline specifically did you think of altering?" asked Radek, ill-concealed fascination bubbling in his voice, specs sliding down his nose unchecked. He looked as though he already knew where this was going and merely asked out of politeness.
"One of the Council's precepts that always hampered Janus was that nothing he did must interfere with our then-current timeline." The expression on the boy's face left no doubt as to just how moronic he considered this notion to be.
Rodney begged to differ. "Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but it's one way of eliminating the numerous intriguing possibilities posed by the Grandfather Paradox-always assuming one actually believes in it."
"Grandfather Paradox?" Ikaros's eyebrows ratcheted up a notch. "I don't quite see what my ancestors should have to do with it."
"The idea is that you go back in time, accidentally kill your grandfather before he had a chance to meet your grandmother, thereby preventing the conception of your father and, by extension, your own, which obviously means you won't be able to go back in time because you never existed in the first place. The whole thing supposedly is a parable for-"
"Wouldn't it be fair to assume that anybody intelligent enough to contrive a means of going back in time would also possess the basic wisdom not to kill his grandfather?" The boy sighed. "Your outlook is as limited as the Council's. Of course Janus and I were more than aware of the risks. You may recall that I said carefully selected timelines."
"Which timeline were you thinking of?" Elizabeth asked.
Ikaros smiled at her like a teacher rewarding a pupil who'd finally managed to bring up a constructive question. "The one enabling the evolution of the iratus bug."
"Brilliant idea!" John said enthusiastically.
"I wish you wouldn't always make these things personal," complained McKay.
"This one's intensely personal, trust me "
"It makes perfect sense!" Radek cut in. "Without the iratus bug, there never would have been Wraith. And nobody is being put at risk by eliminating the bug."
"So what stopped you from going through with this oh-sobrilliant idea, huh?" Apparently, Rodney had decided to sulk.
"The Council!" spat Ikaros. "They argued that, while the Wraith posed a lethal danger, their presence had also influenced the development of my people in unique ways. That to take the Wraith out of the equation might result in Atlantis never having been built." A little more calmly he added, "We also encountered several problems when we ran the simulations"
"In other words, Charybdis doesn't work," Rodney concluded triumphantly.
"Oh, but it will. I have a solution for every one of those issues. That was the whole point of uploading myself into the computer."
CHAPTER SIX
Charybdis +32
-e pulled from the link with a jolt, and for an instant Teyla .could feel his shock and an unlikely mixture of pity and scorn. Best not to let on. This was difficult enough without his realizing that, as long as they were linked, she could sense his every emotion.
"You're telling me the kid turned himself into a machine to be able to do the math?" he gasped.
"Essentially, yes," she replied, forcing herself to keep her tone light to counteract his distress.
"Was he insane or just insanely ambitious?"
"Perhaps neither, perhaps a little bit of both." All at once, Teyla felt the chill of old bones, rubbed her arms to warm up a little. Like a shooting star rubbed by the air. She smiled at the memory of Halling, rubbing his hands as she'd told him to do. "Most of all, he was a child. Like all children he was eager to prove himself. Too eager."
"Yes. Obviously." Crutches clattered on rock, then the cot creaked and heaved a little under her. He'd risen. "Fire's gone out," he murmured by way of an explanation.
She listened to the familiar noises of kindling being piled, flames fanned, logs beginning to crackle. It seemed odd not to perform the necessary tasks but merely to enjoy their effects, and she admonished herself not to enjoy it too much, because, before long, John Sheppard would be gone and she would have to fend for herself again. For now, however, she relished the warmth that seeped from the hearth and through the cave.
"So we decided to go ahead with it."
Not a question; a statement, and the acoustics told her that he was facing away from her, most likely staring into the fire. The choice of words was interesting: we. He'd begun to iden tify with what had happened, and while part of her profoundly regretted it-this version of John Sheppard had never been involved and deserved no blame-another part was relieved, grateful even. He needed to identify, feel responsible, to be able to accomplish what she would ask him to do.
"Show me! Now!" he commanded.
A long, long time ago she had tried to explain to a Satedan how certain orders were better left ignored. This was not one of those orders. The time for stalling and enjoying the warmth was over. He seemed to sense it more clearly than she.
"Not here." Teyla rose wearily, struggling to overcome a reluctance that wanted to pin her to the cot, inert and safe and warm. "Come."
"Where?"
"Come," she said simply, extending a hand; the gesture as much of an order as his words had been moments before.
More clatter of crutches, footfalls, slow and clumsy, and then he was by her side. "Where?" he asked again.
Her fingers scrabbled through air until they caught a handful of his shirt and held on. "It's well that you cleared the path." She waved at the rock formation where the creek entered the cavern. "We shall have to wade for the first few meters."
Major Sheppard muttered something unintelligible and, no doubt, unflattering and began to hobble toward the far end of the cave. Teyla hung on and let him be her guide. Of course she could have found the passage on her own-she'd done so hundreds of times before, though not for a long while now-but allowing him to lead, to follow him this one last time, felt right. More so than anything had these many years. The thought brought a smile, one she didn't care to bite back.
A heartbeat's hesitation, then he moved again, and a sharp hiss told her that he'd stepped into the stream. "Good job I'm soaked already," he grunted.
The water came up to her shins, and it was bitterly cold. Within seconds she'd lost sensation in her feet and, desperate to retain her balance, clutched his shirt with both fists. Had it always been this chilly, the current this rapid? She couldn't remember, and it didn't matter.
They were approaching the narrowest part of the passage now. Water climbed her legs and broke around her knees as the rocks pinched the stream up and out in a swift gush. The tilt of his body betrayed that he had to lean into the current to keep his balance, and she tried her best to steady him, although her efforts didn't amount to much. Suddenly she chuckled.
He must have heard her even over the rush of the water. "What?"
"You have a proverb, do you not? About the lame leading the blind?"
"Blind leading the blind. From what you've told me it's close enough."
As vehemently as it had begun, the slick pressure against her legs subsided until it was merely a murmur around her ankles. They had passed the narrows. From here on out it would be easier.
"Keep to the left," sh
e said. "There's a ledge along the water."
"I can't see a damn thing! It's pitch dark in-" He cut himself off before she had a chance to interrupt him. "Blind leading the blind, huh?"
"I used to come here on my own. Keep walking, Major."
So he did, but their progress seemed excruciatingly slow. More than once she had to rein in the urge to prod him into a faster pace, to tell him that the darkness was nothing to fear. Long decades of familiarity had turned darkness into a friend. It made them equals again, hampering John Sheppard and giving her an advantage. Not so unlike their sparring sessions in the gym, all those years ago. What he had on her in strength, weight-and now youth-she made up for in skill and experience.
"I notice you still don't practice enough," she said.
"Hilarious," he gasped. "How much further?"
"Wait." She'd only ever been used to timing herself, and the sluggish pace had made her lose track of their location.
As they stuttered to a halt, she let go of his shirt, reached out. Her fingertips grazed rock either side of her. It was enough of a marker, even if she'd missed the fact that the burble of the stream sounded faint and muted, a long way behind them. She sniffed, tasting the air like a deer, finding it less humid. They were far into the maze already, and she'd do well to pay attention from here on out. It didn't matter too much-eventually all tunnels ended up in the same place-but the quicker they got there the better.
"We are close." She squeezed past him, her left hand trailing along the wall so that she wouldn't miss the junction. Still sniffing occasionally, she led the way, noted how the smell began to change, from the dank mustiness of the caves to something unique and familiar and belonging to the past-and perhaps to the future.
A sudden yelp from behind stopped her dead in her tracks. "Are you alright, Major Sheppard?"
"Damn! I mean, yes. I'm fine. You could have warned me about the lights."
"As a matter of fact, no."
"Of course... I'm sorry. I-"
"It's not important." She never had given any thought to lights, though now their presence seemed obvious; the only surprise being that they were functional still. To the best of her knowledge nothing else was. "What can you see?"
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