Mirror, Mirror

by Sabine C. Bauer

  "Look!" She pointed at several patches of black nothingness that broke up the luminous display at irregular intervals all around the cathedral.

  "Tunnels," John said. "Obviously crystal-free."

  "Not all of them," Elizabeth's alternate piped up.

  At the far end of the rock cathedral opened an area where the glow receded into the distance, almost as if it were beckoning them to follow.

  "Well, I guess that takes the choice out of where we're going."

  A little grudgingly, John began to herd them all toward the lit tunnel. Elizabeth understood his reluctance. Maybe it wasn't entirely rational, but she shared his suspicion of things that seemed to be too good to be true. As if to prove her point, the tunnel was wide, downright comfortable, its floor and walls rounded and surprisingly smooth, which definitely made a change from the rough passages and fissures they'd encountered so far.

  "It almost looks manmade," she murmured, already fearing it wasn't. The softer rock was ground away around the crystals, leaving them to protrude like tiny nubs and spikes.

  "Uhuh." Absently running his hand over the surface, John shot her a sideways glance. It told her that he knew as well as she that they were looking at water erosion. "I'd suggest we keep moving. Fast."

  The tunnel sloped gently uphill, which was the good news. The bad news was that half an hour in they encountered the first signs of recent flooding. If she'd seen it on a beach somewhere, she'd have called it a tide pool. In a niche in the wall a patch of limestone had been eddied out by time and water to form a deep, perfectly round bowl. The water inside shimmered lime green, reflecting the sheen of the crystals and stirred by the flitting shapes of blind, unpigmented fish.

  As they moved on they found a second pool, then a third, and then the first rivulets came trickling toward them. The rivulets soon merged into creeks; the river was about to pay a return visit. Eventually they were staggering shin deep through chilly water, barely able to feel their feet and fighting for balance.

  Major Sheppard, who was setting the pace, finally signaled a halt and turned around. "You think we should go back?"

  "And then what?" If John had actually tried to keep his teeth from rattling, he'd failed spectacularly. "Sit in the dark until we starve instead of drown or freeze to death?"

  "Maybe we can wait out the flood. What do you think, Elizabeth?"

  She'd barely opened her mouth when her alternate took a tentative step forward. "No," said the other Elizabeth. It came out like a croak, and she cleared her throat, preempting any interruption with an impatient shake of the head, as if she knew full well that they wouldn't be inclined to listen to her. "No," she repeated more firmly. "We have to keep going. If we turn back, we'll all die."

  The phrasing took Elizabeth aback, reminded her of old tales of mad seers, prophets who went unheard. But, paradoxically, for the first time since she'd met her twin, the older woman's eyes were clear and she seemed perfectly lucid. Elizabeth's decision, when it came, was based on gut instinct alone; not a rational argument in sight, which was wildly out of character. The only explanation she could have given was that she knew herself, and that other woman, insane or not, was herself. "We carry on," she said. "She's right."

  John blinked. "Come again?"

  "You heard me... us," she amended with a quick glance at her double. "Keep going."

  "Yes." Major Sheppard was looking at Elizabeth's alternate as though he'd never seen her before. "Yes. She's right."

  The older Elizabeth smiled at him gratefully. "Thank you."

  "Okay." It sounded a little uncertain, as if John basically agreed but didn't quite trust the process that had brought the majority to their decision. "Move Put."_

  A half kilometer or so further into the tunnel, the water ran knee-high and there was a noticeable current now, even though the ground had leveled out for the time being. Too exhausted to waste any energy on talk, they were walking-wading-each wrapped in their own thoughts, the silence broken only by the sloshing of water and ragged breathing. Without warning Major Sheppard stopped again.

  "Listen!" he whispered. "You hear that?"

  The sound wasn't unlike a train thundering past at night or trees shaking in a November storm-or a waterfall. The distortion of the echo made it impossible to tell how far away it was, but Elizabeth suspected that it was close and that it would be big. And whatever else it might mean for them, getting to that waterfall was a goal now, at least in the short term. Who knew? There might even be a passage to the surface. Together with a herd of flying pigs.. .

  They plodded on and within minutes reached what had to be the summit of the tunnel. After that the ground fell off as rapidly as the roar of the waterfall increased in volume. The current ran uphill now, which explained why it remained moderate. It didn't make the going any easier, though. As the water crept up to their thighs, their hips, waists, and finally to their chests, they linked hands, forming a chain to steady each other.

  "How's your leg, Junior?" John asked under his breath.

  "Still attached. It's too cold to feel it," grunted Major Sheppard. "How's your head?"

  "Still attached. I'm thinking of diving for a while "

  Good Lord! As though one of them wasn't bad enough.. .

  Elizabeth grinned despite herself, vaguely relieved that she still could, because most of her body felt frozen solid by now. She'd all but lost sensation below her knees, and the rest wasn't far behind. If they didn't reach a ledge or some other reasonably dry place in short order, they'd die of hypothermia.

  At last she saw something other than tunnel walls and crystal-green refractions on the water ahead. The passage opened out into an immense cavern, far larger than the rock cathedral and filled with mist and deafening noise. Beneath the mist sat the surface of a subterranean lake, black as onyx. The opposite shore was invisible, lost in haze and darkness. To their right, some two hundred meters from the tunnel mouth, the waterfall pounded into the lake, a massive moving column, spraying foam and seemingly burning from within.

  "What on Earth...?"

  "It's either sunset or sunrise," John shouted over the noise. "That thing's coming from topside, and it's conducting light like a fiberglass cable."

  There was her passage to the surface, Elizabeth thought grimly. Some local deity-or, if Radek was right, Charybdis itself-must have been listening in on her thoughts and decided to piss her off. That blood red waterfall would be the last thing she'd see. They had nowhere to go, except back-and even that was doubtful now; in the time they'd been standing here, staring, the water had crept at least an inch up her chest. Chances were that, even if they turned back right now, they wouldn't be able to make it to the rock cathedral. The only choices remaining were either to stay here and drown or to swim out into the lake and drown. She guessed that this was the moment when you were supposed to say, It was an honor serving with you...

  Apparently not.

  Without a word-or perhaps she simply hadn't heard it over the roar of the water-John let go of her hand and flung himself out into the lake.

  "John!"

  It was an irrational impulse-after all, what difference would it make?-or perhaps the determination to survive as long as possible and force the others to do the same. Either way, Elizabeth pushed herself off to go after him. A hand snatched the back of her shirt and pulled her back, pulled her under for a second, and she came up spitting and spluttering to stare at Major Sheppard's face, inches from hers.

  "Don't!" he shouted. "It's not what you think! Look!"

  She scrabbled to regain the ground under her feet, swiped the water from her eyes, and stared in the direction he was pointing. Some one hundred meters out into the lake, John was clinging to something square and wooden, and swimming back toward them.

  "A raft.. 11

  The Major couldn't possibly have heard her, but he read her lips. "Yeah! If he manages to get it here!"

  Good point. The lake wasn't a lake at all, it seemed, but a large underground river
. Its rapid current was trying to carry him downstream and away from them. He was kicking hard, gradually gaining ground and aiming for the relatively calm waters of a small recess in the rock, a little over ten meters down from where they were standing. Major Sheppard nudged her and her twin toward the recess to meet him.

  As John struggled closer, Elizabeth recognized the `raft'. It was a fence panel, about five by five feet, of the kind they had put up around their experimental rice terrace to keep out animals trying to feed on the young shoots. She figured she knew what had happened. The terrace had been situated on one of the high slopes of the mountain; the east facing slope was ideal, because it caught a lot of rain, but it also lent itself to mudslides. One of those must have destroyed the terrace and carried some of its fencing down into the ravine below and from there into the river, the waterfall, and on into the caves.

  Only a few feet out, John got caught in an eddy but managed to snatch the far end of the outcrop that formed a breakwater in front of the tiny bay. Hanging on with one hand, he heaved and kicked himself and the fence panel into the recess. Up close, the raft seemed desperately small. Looking like nothing so much as a very pale drowned rat, John had pulled himself on top and lay there, breathing hard and resting for however many moments he'd be granted.

  Not many, she thought. The water kept rising.

  She turned around, caught Major Sheppard and her alternate exchanging a glance; some silent communication Elizabeth couldn't quite interpret.

  "What are you waiting for?" the Major hollered and prodded her toward the raft. "Get on!"

  Elizabeth couldn't say what had tweaked her anten nae-perhaps that quiet exchange, perhaps the odd look in Major Sheppard's eyes. In a flash she realized what he was planning, and she'd be damned if she let it happen. "No!" she yelled. "You two first!"

  "Look at the raft!" the Major shouted back. "To paraphrase you, Dr. Weir, `I will not authorize this mission unless I am sure there is at least a remote chance of success.' There isn't. That contraption will never carry all of us. We need to save as many as we can, and that's two."

  If we turn back, we'll all die.

  The words jumped into Elizabeth's mind unbidden. Her double had known or, at the very least, guessed correctly. Which didn't change the math. Major Sheppard was right. If they all got on the raft, it'd sink. Using it as a flotation device was possible-and completely pointless. Given the water temperature they'd be unable to hold on sooner rather than later, and even if two of them let go, by that point the other two would be too weak to climb onto the raft.

  "You go!" She grabbed her double's arm, tried to pull her forward.

  With surprising strength the alternate stood her ground. "I didn't agree to Janus's plan to save myself, Elizabeth. Remember? And remember what he told us?" She slid a brief glance at the Major. "The originals have to survive to stop Charybdis from happening."

  "What if he's wrong?"

  "You know he isn't. There's no other option. Go!"

  "I can't just let you die!"

  Head cocked, Elizabeth's alternate smiled. "Then don't. Survive."

  "You're crazy." It was a low blow and a last ditch effort.

  "Even crazy people have lucid moments. Don't waste any more time. Go, and don't look back."

  Major Sheppard must have seen the fight drain out of her. He grabbed her around the waist and helped her onto the raft. "Remember the Odyssey? This is Hades. Your double and I, we're the shadows. Always have been. Just make sure you succeed." He grinned and nodded at John who lay sprawled beside her, out cold. "You'll have to wake him. He shouldn't be sleeping given his condition, but don't bring him round before you're past the point of no return. I don't want to have this argument all over again. I'll leave that in your capable hands."

  With that he gave the raft a shove, propelling it out into the river. Elizabeth could feel a sharp tug when the current grabbed hold of it and spun it away from the shore. She realized that she needn't have worried about heeding her double's advice not to look back; the two alternates disappeared from sight almost immediately, hidden by the rocks that protected the recess.

  Downnver lay uncertainty and darkness, and the latter at least suited her mood perfectly.

  CHAPTER 15

  Charybdis + 13

  -ou're kidding, right'? The originals have to survive to fix this Charybdis mess? Do you know what the odds of that are?"

  "We'll find out just as soon as you find us a Stargate, won't we?"

  Teyla realized how irritable this reply sounded as soon as it came out of her mouth, but she couldn't be bothered to soften it or apologize. She knew exactly what the chances were. She'd known long before anybody else, and she'd lived with that knowledge for thirty-two years. So perhaps she was allowed a little irritability. That aside, she was exhausted, her head was pounding, and the hinges of her jaw seemed to have come loose from all the talking she'd done in the past hours. For once Ronon was nothing if not inquisitive. Not that she could blame him. She had nearly as many questions, she supposed.

  "I'm sorry," said Ronon, much to her surprise. As a rule he seemed to avoid apologies. "You look beat," he added.

  "Thank you. I'm sure you look vibrant."

  "I look the way I smell, if that helps."

  "Not really." Teyla never even tried to hide her grin. He smelled ripe, and that was putting it very politely. Then again, she probably wasn't far behind- smoke, sweat, fear, and filth.

  "Listen." Ronon's hand landed on her arm. "We're in hyperspace now, so this thing can fly itself for a while. By all accounts these transporters have really nice VIP quarters. How about I take you up there so you can clean up and get some rest?"

  "That's kind of you. Cleaning up sounds wonderful, but right now I'm too tired to move a muscle. I'd rather stay here ."

  It was a half truth. The whole truth was that she did not want to be on her own. Or rather, she did not want to be separated from this tangible tie to her past and future now that she'd found it at last-entirely by accident and after having reconciled herself to the fact that she would not see her friends again. Waking up in that laboratory and hearing Ronon's voice had been as much of a shock as the realization that she was the original after all and that-perhaps because she was the original-her journey through the Stargate had wiped out any physical trace of the past thirty-two years of her life. It hadn't given her back her sight, but at least she had the strength of youth again. She'd probably need it, too.

  "I appreciate the company. You know me. Always happy to catch up with old friends."

  "As I recall, the last old friend you caught up with fell down the stairs, and the one before you ran through with your sword. Should I start to worry?"

  "Not unless you've sold me out recently."

  She smiled a little. "I haven't. At least not as far as I'm aware."

  "No," he murmured darkly. "It seems this time I managed to do it all by myself."

  The remark dragged a leaden silence in its wake, as though he already regretted having let slip even this much. Teyla knew from experience that waiting him out would be pointless. She'd die of old age first. Under any other circumstances she might have respected his privacy, but the exchange of information implied two-way traffic, and so far she had been the one to do all the talking. He'd tricked her into it quite deftly, his excuse being that he had to fly the ship he'd commandeered.

  Teyla herself had only the sketchiest of memories of that particular escapade and the events leading up to it. Having to rely on acoustics alone didn't help to flesh out the picture. That aside, she knew well enough that, for a while there, it had been all she could do to keep pure, stark panic at bay, and she'd missed more than she normally would have. All that had registered was the stench of ozone-laden air and smoke and blood, the ceaseless pounding of explosions as meteors hurtled into what she presumed to be a city, and the sickening, disorienting lurches of the small vessel as it ducked and danced out of the path of destruction. She recalled a dizzy sense of gratitude
when the glider had touched down at last, she didn't know where; that and the fact that she'd barely been able to stand when Ronon had plucked her from the passenger seat and placed her back onto firm ground. He'd dragged her along at a dead run then, not caring whether or not she stumbled, trusting that somehow or other she'd be able to keep pace with him.

  The chase had ended under a structure large enough to shield her from the hot ash and debris raining from above and singeing her skin and hair. The reprieve, in the manner of all reprieves, hadn't lasted. Shouts of challenge had warned her that either their pursuers had caught up with them again or that someone else was objecting to their presence wherever they were. She remembered an irrational flash of abandonment when Ronon left her side without so much as a word and, seconds after that, the furious clash and clatter of a swordfight, grunts, screams, and the gurgle of death. Then he'd been back by her side, to herd her up a smooth, steep incline at the same relentless pace. Eventually she'd heard a deep hum, felt a tremor, and the roar of the meteor storm had dulled. She'd surmised that he must have closed a hatch-a very large one at that-and as he guided her on through halls and up stairways to the cockpit, she understood that they were aboard a ship as big as, or possibly even bigger than, the Daedalus.

  There'd been a handful brave souls who'd remained aboard when everyone else had fled, and they'd done their duty and tried to defend the ship. It had been a hopelessly uneven skirmish and a lost cause. Ronon had set upon them with a frenzy she didn't recognize in him, and he hadn't taken any prisoners. The smell of their blood still clung to him now, vying with that of the crew whose bodies lay scattered in the cockpit behind her. They hadn't stood a chance either.

  Teyla knew well enough that behind the relaxed exterior, Ronon was a deeply angry man. And with good reason. The Wraith had stolen his home, his liberty, and years of his life. But something had happened to him back on that planet they'd just escaped that had stoked this anger into uncontainable rage.