“No, I’ve got it,” Atelia said. And indeed, she seemed to be balancing everything with the ease of long practice. “Thank you. You’re very good with him. Do you have children of your own?”
A shadow crossed Daniel’s face. “No.”
Atelia winced. “Oh. I am sorry. The Wraith —?”
“No.” Daniel shook his head, managing a smile that seemed almost genuine. “My wife was killed. Not by the Wraith, but by an enemy from our own galaxy, one we eventually defeated. But it was many years ago.”
And that, Elizabeth thought, was a fair summary of his life, even if it left out many of the important things. But it was a story Atelia would recognize, and probably that was what Daniel had meant.
“When Aiden first told me of his world,” Atelia said, “I thought it must be a paradise. But I soon realized it was not so.”
“There is nothing like the Wraith,” Daniel said. “Which I hope you’ll find an advantage.”
Atelia smiled as he’d meant, but her eyes were still shadowed.
Elizabeth said, “Earth is like most other worlds, good and bad alike. The greatest difference is that most people can’t walk through a Stargate to get away from their troubles.”
Atelia’s eyes widened at that, as though it were a thought she had never before imagined. And probably she hadn’t, Elizabeth thought. There were very few worlds in Pegasus that didn’t have an accessible Stargate; even the Travelers were raised with the certainty that if they lost their ship or were left behind, they could dial a new world and escape there. One more thing Atelia would have to adjust to, here on Earth.
“It might be better if they could,” Daniel said, under his breath, and she couldn’t entirely disagree.
John and General Landry were talking, she realized, with additions from Rodney and, once, Teyla. And then she heard her own name, and Ford’s, and she stepped forward to take Landry’s outstretched hand.
“Dr. Weir. Quite frankly, we never expected to see you again. It’s good to be surprised.”
“Thank you.”
“I gather you’re in competition with Dr. Jackson for number of times Ascended and Unascended.”
Elizabeth smiled in spite of herself. “I sincerely hope not, General. Once was quite enough for me.”
“Lieutenant.” Landry returned Ford’s salute, then held out his hand. “Welcome home, son.”
“Thank you, sir.” Ford’s voice didn’t break, but he was blinking furiously.
Landry looked away. “Right. Let’s get inside. Colonel, I hope you understand that you’re leaving us that puddlejumper. There’s no way we’re getting it down to the gate room in one piece, and frankly we could use a spare.”
“Yes, sir,” John said.
The next few hours passed in a blur, as they were passed from one department to another, from debriefing to medical to another debriefing and another medical and a conference with Landry and several staff members who were new since her time. Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, she was assigned a suite in the guest quarters and promised clean clothes and a few hours’ rest, and dropped onto the narrow bunk and slept before she had even thought of taking off more than her shoes.
She woke again to polite but insistent knocking, and opened her door to a quartermaster sergeant who arrived with a change of clothes and a second set of towels, and the polite reminder that it was getting late and the mess hall would be going to late-night service in an hour or two. She rubbed her eyes, disoriented — somewhere around eight o’clock here, and her body thought it was very early morning — and John loomed up behind the sergeant.
“Oh, good, I caught you. General O’Neill wants a word with all of us.”
“Certainly.” Elizabeth let the sergeant set her burden on the nearest table, and smoothed her hair into something like reasonable order. “Do I have time for a shower?”
“Better get it over with,” John answered, with his familiar flinching smile, and she nodded.
“All right. But there needs to be food.”
“I’ve been promised sandwiches,” John said.
There were sandwiches, three big trays of them sitting on the credenza to one side of the big table, as well as salads and chips and an enormous plate of cookies: Earth food, American food, the sort Elizabeth hadn’t seen since long before she’d awakened without memory. Her body remembered, though, and she filled her plate without shame. Ford was doing the same, and he met her look with a sheepish smile.
“It’s funny, you don’t think you’ve missed something until it’s there.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I know. Roast beef with cheddar…”
“Tuna salad. Who’d ever miss tuna salad?” Ford added a third wedge to his plate and turned back to his wife. She already had a plate, Elizabeth saw, and she was distracting Jordan from the cookies with a piece of bread.
“I don’t know why they always put this stuff — this, kale, whatever it is — on every single plate everywhere,” Rodney said. “Nobody eats it. I don’t think it’s even edible.”
“It’s better than lemon slices,” John said, coming up to snag another couple of cookies. Rodney glared at him, but before he could respond, General Landry tapped on the table.
“All right, folks, if everyone has had a chance to get something, I’d like to get started.”
Elizabeth obediently took her place at the table, sliding into a seat between Teyla and Daniel. Atelia had one end of the table, where she and Ford could corral the baby — currently being bribed with a chocolate chip cookie, which he seemed to be regarding with some doubt — and Landry had the other, with O’Neill next to him.
“I thought we’d wait to get started until we were all here,” O’Neill began, and the door opened. Elizabeth turned, to see Richard Woolsey framed in the doorway, his suit slightly rumpled, as though he’d been on his feet all day.
“Gentlemen. Ladies. I apologize for the delay.”
“Glad you could make it,” Landry said, and gestured to a chair.
Woolsey smiled and nodded, but filled a plate before he sat down.
“I see you missed dinner,” O’Neill remarked.
“I’ve been on a conference call,” Woolsey answered, unperturbed, and Landry cleared his throat.
“I wanted us to get together tonight so that no one was left wondering what the next steps were going to be. Lieutenant, your next steps are up to you — and I expect you to take as much time as you need to decide what that’s going to be — but I want to assure you and your wife that she will be accorded all assistance as you adjust to life back here on Earth. We’ll arrange for all the paperwork she’ll need, and we also have a team working on a cover story for all of you. I assume you’ve discussed the position of the SGC with her?”
Atelia said, “Aiden has said that your Stargate is kept secret, and that therefore I must seem to be from a war zone on this planet. I am willing to pretend to be so, though I don’t understand how you’ve kept such a secret.”
“With great difficulty,” O’Neill said.
Landry ignored him. “Excellent. I think that takes care of the Lieutenant for now. Mr. Woolsey?”
“Yes.” Woolsey put down his sandwich. His tie was unspotted, Elizabeth saw, and there wasn’t even an errant crumb on his plate. “Dr. McKay, the IOA wishes me to express their displeasure at your returning to Earth against their express orders.”
“Hey! It’s not like I had a choice, except maybe to stay behind on a freezing, night-time planet. Which, yes, had a Stargate, but it was on another continent, and I couldn’t dial Atlantis anyway.” Rodney stopped abruptly, as though he’d wandered into a minefield. “Though I’ll be more than happy to head back just as soon as possible —”
Woolsey nodded. “Quite so. Consider their displeasure expressed.”
Rodney opened his mouth and shut it again. “Oh. Ok. Right.”
“Dr. Weir.” Woolsey’s thin mouth curved into an unexpected smile. “And Lieutenant Ford. First, I’d like to say both pe
rsonally and on behalf of the President — and of course of the IOA — how very glad we are to have you back. The President was briefed yesterday on your situation, and asked me to convey a greeting on his behalf, a welcome home, and, for Mrs. Ford, a welcome to what he hopes will become her home.”
That was unexpected, and unexpectedly moving. Elizabeth felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and looked down to hide them. There was an awkward murmur of agreement, and then O’Neill said, “There’d better not be a catch to that.”
“Ah.”
O’Neill’s eyes narrowed. “Lieutenant Ford and his family are purely a US military issue.”
“Indeed they are,” Woolsey said. “I’m happy to say that the IOA has no argument there, nor any claim to jurisdiction. But —”
“Me,” Elizabeth said.
Woolsey dipped his head. “Dr. Weir. The IOA feels that your status is somewhat ambiguous. Certainly they feel that you cannot be considered to still be the leader of the Atlantis Expedition —”
“Not unreasonable,” Elizabeth said. “Nor do I expect to be treated as such.”
“Noted. However, they are also concerned that this might be a trick by some surviving faction among the Replicators, and they do not wish to let you stay on Earth until that has been disproved to their satisfaction.”
“Oh, come on,” O’Neill said.
Daniel looked up from his plate. “You know, the same point could have been made about me the last time.”
“Except that you showed up naked in my office,” O’Neill said. “Which seems to have meant something to someone. Come on, Woolsey, this is bull. Dr. Weir was helped to ascend by one of the Asgard, and was then unascended for interfering in human affairs. This — I hate to say it, but it’s practically SOP.”
“She was unascended for saving my life,” Rodney said. “I knew when it happened, when she saved me, that it was her, and I knew she was going to get into trouble for it. And here she is. You’re going to kick her off Earth for that?”
“She’s already here,” John said. “Already on Earth. Nothing’s happened, and nothing’s going to happen.”
“The IOA is unwilling to concede on the matter,” Woolsey said. “Believe me, I’ve tried.”
“What do they want me to do?” Elizabeth asked. My mother, she thought. Have they already told her? Is she expecting me, and then I can’t come home after all? That would be worse than thinking she was dead.
“The IOA would like you to return either to the Alpha site or to Atlantis and submit to further testing — specifically to be sure there are no nanites in your bloodstream — before they rule on the question again.”
Elizabeth took a deep breath. That wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, and certainly better than it could have been. To return to Atlantis, an Atlantis mostly at peace with the Wraith, an Atlantis where things had moved forward rather than back — the idea filled her with unexpected excitement. “I’m willing to go back to Atlantis. What level of evidence is the IOA willing to accept to prove that I’m not a Replicator?”
“A reasonable one,” Woolsey said firmly, riding over something profane from O’Neill. “It may take some months to convince them of that, but I expect — I am determined to see it happen.”
“All right.” Elizabeth nodded. “I will want to discuss what’s to be done about my family.”
“Absolutely,” Woolsey said, and Landry leaned forward.
“We’re happy to put our support teams at your disposal, Doctor.”
“If that’s settled, then…” Woolsey brushed an invisible speck from his lapel. “I believe that a photograph was required?”
“That’s right,” John said. “You and General O’Neill and Lieutenant Ford. To prove that he’s back on Earth with you.”
“It’s a shame Sam isn’t here,” Daniel said. “The Wraith are matriarchal, they’d probably react better to having her in the picture, since they seem to think of you two as her consorts…”
“Daniel,” O’Neill said. “Right. Let’s get this over with.”
Elizabeth refilled her plate while the pictures were being taken, not so much because she was still hungry but because the long unfamiliar flavors seemed so astonishing. She was debating one last cookie — chocolate chip or sugar? — When she looked up to find O’Neill at her shoulder.
“Are you all right with this?” His voice was soft enough not to carry to the others. “I’ll go to the mat on this if it’s not. And win.”
Elizabeth blinked, surprised and touched, but slowly shook her head. “It’s not worth spending that capital, General. I’m not a Replicator, and it’s easy enough to prove it. And — I’d like to see Atlantis again. Even if it’s just to say goodbye, I need that.”
“All right.” O’Neill nodded. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“I will,” she said, and knew she would not.
Four days later, she stood in the gate room with the others while high above them technicians in the control room dialed Atlantis. For a moment, the room was filled with the memory of all the others who had waited there with her that first time, packs in hand, ready to cross to another galaxy where no one knew what might be waiting. She could remember the excitement, the ball of nerves in the pit of her stomach, but this time she felt only relief. She’d bought time to figure out how to break the news to her mother, and she’d gotten the time to say goodbye. Those were both rare gifts.
“Time to go,” John said.
Elizabeth nodded. “You’re staying?”
“We’re seeing Ford home,” John said.
“Just for a few more days,” Teyla said. “General Landry thinks I might be helpful to Atelia as she settles in to her new life.”
“I expect you will be,” Elizabeth said. “And I’ll see you soon.”
“You shall,” Teyla said, with a warm smile, and they embraced, forehead against forehead in the Athosian way.
When Teyla released her, John held out his hand, but Elizabeth shook her head. He smiled, and allowed her to embrace him as well. Behind him, the Stargate began to turn, the symbols lighting, six and then the vital seventh. The wormhole exploded out into the room, and stabilized to the familiar shimmering pool of blue light. Like water, Elizabeth thought again, and lifted her new carryall.
“Gentlemen,” she said, to Rodney and Daniel. “Shall we?”
“After you,” Daniel said, and she walked up the ramp and into the wormhole without a backward glance.
She emerged into Atlantis’s gate room, the light dim behind the glass so that for a moment it was as though she was arriving for the first time. It was still beautiful, still the soaring city, walls of glass and light and glory, and suddenly the room was full of the sound of applause. She looked up to see the control consoles jammed full, two or three people at every station and every one of them clapping and cheering, and her eyes filled with tears. Rodney and Daniel were clapping, too, backing away so that she stood unaccompanied, caught in the moment. She spread her hands in helpless wonder, and Lorne came down the steps to greet her, limping slightly.
“Doc. Welcome back.”
“Thank you.” Her voice broke, and she tried again. “Thank you. All of you.”
Something rattled on the floor behind her, and the clapping was overtaken by a wave of sudden laughter. Something nudged her foot, and she looked down to see a champagne bottle tied with a bow. There was a card taped to it, and she stooped to pick it up. This one’s for you, it read. It was signed simply, O’Neill.
Daniel settled back into a comfortable routine once he’d gotten himself reestablished on Atlantis. Beckett and the rest of the medical personnel were busy running tests on Elizabeth — tests that station rumor said proved conclusively that she was entirely human — and the rest of the science staff was busy either with Rodney’s notes on the Vanir ship or with routine maintenance or projects of their own. For once, he had free rein in the Ancient database, and no particular research agenda at the top of his list. He spent s
everal days tracking down obscure questions that had perplexed him on his first visit, but at the end of the first week, he had to admit to himself that his real curiosity was about the Wraith. Ember would be going back to Guide’s hive — Alabaster’s hive, Daniel reminded himself — as soon as Sheppard and Teyla returned from Earth, and that didn’t leave much time. Of course, he could have asked McKay — as McKay would have been happy to point out — but he wanted to talk to an actual Wraith. And that meant Ember.
The Wraith scientist was housed in what was practically his own tower, a slender spire with no transfer chambers of its own and only a single, easily guarded exit. Daniel waited until the middle of Atlantis’s morning, well aware that he was avoiding McKay’s eye, and made his way across, talking his way past the Marines on guard without difficulty. Though of course, he reminded himself, there was no reason they should have been told to keep him from talking to anyone. He found the Wraith — Ember — in the lower chamber, where the windows ran from floor to ceiling, broken only by a dozen slender pillars. At the top and bottom of the windows, the glass was faceted into bands of prisms, and the space was flecked with hundreds of shards of rainbow. Ember stood at the far end, facing out toward the city’s edge and the vivid blues of sea and sky beyond, his black coat a sharp contrast to the brilliance. His long white hair was bound up in an elaborate double fall — personal display seemed to be extremely important to the Wraith, Daniel thought, presumably because of the competition for the queen’s attention. He wondered where Ember fell in the Wraith canon of beauty, and if and how he would compete for Alabaster’s favor.
Those were all questions for which he had hoped to find answers, and he cleared his throat. “Ember?”
The Wraith turned astonishingly quickly, his coat swirling, though Daniel suspected he had actually slowed the movement. “Dr. Jackson?”
“Yes. I know you’re due to leave shortly, and I wondered if I might ask you some questions.”
“Since there is no longer any need to search for Vanir sites, there is no reason for me to stay,” Ember said. “What sort of questions?”
Stargate Atlantis: Third Path: Book 8 in the Legacy series Page 30