Casualties of War

by Elizabeth Christensen

  Rodney's expression as he sat down at the dialing computer was grim. "Believe it or not, a large enough force applied at exactly the wrong moment can shift the wormhole's matter stream. Some years ago, SG-1 was in transit when an active gate was struck during an attack. Half the team was bounced accidentally to Earth's second gate in Antarctica, before anyone even knew the second gate existed."

  "So Ronon and Teyla might have ended up at another destination altogether?" That didn't sound like an impossible obstacle. "Then they can just dial back here."

  "Not necessarily. Not if they didn't make it very far to begin with." Rodney uploaded the data from his scanner, wholly focused on the console in front of him. "On first glance, the data I grabbed from the DHD on 418 seems to suggest that, when the wormhole's stability was disrupted, it almost folded back in on itself."

  "Almost? We know they weren't bounced back to through the planet's gate."

  "Physically impossible, since the matter stream only flows one way." Rodney's tone grew subdued. "What's the next closest gate?"

  Suddenly the fear pulled ahead of the adrenaline. His stomach in freefall, John asked, "You think-?"

  A defiant glower cut him off. "I don't want to think anything until I know."

  The control room personnel had backed off to give them space. John spotted Wen and figured he must have explained the situation. A painful silence settled over the room for a few drawn-out seconds. At last, Rodney lifted his head, looking utterly defeated.

  "It's confirmed," he said quietly. "The data says the matter stream was reflected back to PM-418. The shock wave must have bounced them to orbital gate."

  No.

  Shutting his eyes against a rush of emotion he couldn't afford, John forced himself to think. This wasn't over, damn it. He spun toward the gate tech hovering nearby. "Call upstairs and have Jumper One preflighted ASAP."

  "Yes, sir," the tech answered automatically.

  The command shook Rodney out of his daze. "What do you expect to accomplish with that?"

  "Do whatever you have to do to make sure the wormhole connects to 418's space gate." John headed for the stairway to the jumper bay. "I'm not abandoning our people."

  "Abandon-Colonel, did you forget how this works? If we dial 418 right now, whatever we send through will go to the ground gate. I can't override the planet's dialing system without expending a lot of time and complex effort. I certainly can't replicate the original shock wave with any degree of precision. We'd have to fly up to orbit and locate the space gate by jumper, and I think you know as well as I do how long that would take."

  Too long for two people exposed to the vacuum of space to survive. John stopped on the third stair. He had to face facts; it had been too long already.

  But if the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him anything, it was that exceptions and unexpected outcomes were a way of life.

  Carson chose that moment to enter the control room, setting his medkit on a chair. "Adams and Pratt will be fine," he reported. "Would someone care to tell me how they acquired burns and shrapnel wounds?"

  "Teyla and Ronon are dead," Rodney answered bluntly. "The same explosion that injured the Marines knocked them through the gate to 418's orbital address. They're floating around the planet like so much space junk, and yet Sheppard seems to think we can magically rescue them."

  "I didn't say that." John stepped back into the room and turned away from the doctor's obvious shock, trying to get a handle on just what he was really trying to do. "I said we don't leave people behind."

  "Not when we can help it, no. Unfortunately, there are some rules even you can't break. The best result we can hope to achieve now is recovering the bodies." Rodney stood up from the computer and folded his arms. "Carson, care to help me out here?"

  Clearly still coming to grips with the awful truth, Carson took a hesitant step forward. "Colonel, maybe you'd better let me have a look at that arm."

  Not comprehending, John glanced down. A five-inchlong hole had been scorched into his left sleeve, a patch of skin blistering underneath. It stung, now that he noticed it, but not badly. Not anywhere near badly enough to distract him from this.

  He shrugged out of his jacket to let Carson work and continued to argue his point. "We haven't even checked to make sure the city database was accurate."

  "Accurate?" Rodney repeated. "When has the database ever had a typo?"

  "It doesn't always have complete information," John insisted, hearing the weakness of his argument all too clearly. "This gate might be set up differently, or-"

  "Just what do you think we're going to find out there? Candy Land? The records were very detailed on what happened during the battle for P7L-418. There's enough debris in orbit that you'll have to be extremely cautious about our approach to avoid crashing into a derelict ship." Rodney's hand flew up as if to block John's imminent protest. "And before you say we could utilize the jumper's shield, understand that you'll need to deactivate said shield while recovering the bodies, which may be a difficult proposition amid the wreckage. Keep in mind also that you'll have to do some sensor sweeps to figure out exactly where in orbit the gate is."

  Rubbing tired eyes, Rodney concluded, "I've been working through the various scenarios ever since I realized the situation, Colonel. Believe me, I've already grasped at every straw within reach. This isn't something we can resolve simply by thinking harder, and it certainly can't be resolved by rushing in blindly. Everything I just described will take time to plan and set up. No matter which way we approach it, this is a recovery mission, not a rescue.

  How could he accept that? John got in Rodney's face, yanking his half-bandaged arm out of Carson's grip in the process. "Don't just stand there and tell me it can't be done. Find away!"

  Bristling, Rodney fired back. "What, so if I acknowledge reality, that somehow means I care about Ronon and Teyla less than you?"

  "Both of you, stop it," ordered Carson with a vehemence he rarely showed. It made an impact; Rodney's mouth snapped shut. With that hard set of his jaw, his own sadness and frustration became visible at last.

  The doctor finished bandaging John's forearm before speaking again, more gently. "Listen to yourself, John. What are you really hoping to find?"

  "I don't know! But what's our alternative? Just let them go, forget about them?"

  "Forget about them, certainly not," Carson replied, his voice solemn. "Let them go... aye, lad. I'm afraid so."

  John scrubbed a hand over his jaw, fast running out of rational points to make. Hell, he was starting to run out of irrational ones. All he had-all he knew-was the fact that his teammates were out there, and it went against everything he held fundamental to leave them, whether for an hour or forever, where they lay.

  Where his mistake had led them. He'd sent Rodney's group off unarmed, and this was the result.

  "God damn it," he whispered.

  The control room seemed frozen in place. Finally, the tech ventured, "Sir, Jumper One is preflighted and ready for deployment."

  Only Carson and Rodney dared to watch him for a reaction. Rodney's chin jutted out in challenge, while Carson's eyes reflected concern and sorrow.

  In his entire life, John had never been so helpless.

  "Cancel that," he said, hardening his voice. "Assemble another security team to send back to the planet. Rodney, take whoever and whatever you need to set up the recovery mission. I..." What could he do now? "I'll take Jumper One to the mainland."

  He'd already started toward the stairs to the jumper bay once more when Rodney reminded him, "You're in charge here while Elizabeth's off-world."

  "Then I guess that means you're in charge for a while. I have to break the news to the Athosians that Teyla's not coming back."

  "Someone has to," said Carson. "It doesn't have to be you, not right this moment."

  John didn't stop. If he stopped moving, he'd start feeling, and that would be the ballgame. "Yes, it does." It was the last thing he would be able to do for her. He was determined
to do it right.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  nconscionable," bellowed Cestan, his face reddened in fury. "This vile act shows the true colors of the Nistra. To not only dishonor the Hall, but murder our warriors and strike out at those who have come to help us work toward peace-"

  "How unexpected for you to immediately accuse us." Galven's tone made it clear that sarcasm was in no way a foreign concept on this planet. "Do you forget that we suffered losses as well? What evidence have you to suggest that the raiders were Nistra?"

  "This was merely the latest and most brazen in a long line of raids." The Falnori governor paced behind the table.

  "I would agree," Galven responded coldly. "Dr. Weir, perhaps you will now concede that I speak the truth about the adarite being stolen from my people?"

  Elizabeth held up both hands to quiet the room, feeling like a junior high school teacher. A substitute teacher, even, given how much heed the two men were paying her. "I am drawing no conclusions about the identities of the perpetrators at this time," she told them, her voice level. "For one thing, the raiders escaped in a ship. Do either of your peoples have access to that kind of technology?"

  "With the meager amount of adarite we receive from the Nistra?" Cestan scoffed.

  Galven's fists slammed down with a thunk as he leaned dangerously across the table. "We can hardly make whips from what remains after your gluttonous thefts."

  Same song, different key. Elizabeth massaged her temples with her fingers. For a few minutes, she'd thought she had a chance of breaking through the leaders' intractable viewpoints. Then they'd heard the shots over the radio, and it had all come apart.

  A subdued "Ma'am?" from the stairwell drew her attention to Sergeant Markovich, one of the security team leaders. John must have sent him from Atlantis to augment the Marines already in place. The sergeant hovered only two steps inside the room, his features carefully expressionless.

  "Excuse me," she said, leaving the table and the battle behind. "Sergeant?"

  "We've secured the area, ma'am. All of it this time. The second entrance was well-hidden-a hatch with the best camouflage surface I've ever seen, in terms of both color and texture. Whoever opened it must have previously found it from the inside. Otherwise no one would have known it was there."

  "What's the status back home?"

  The sergeant held her gaze through a brief pause, and Elizabeth felt some of the warmth leach from her skin.

  "Ma'am, Dr. McKay confirmed that Teyla and Ronon accidentally traveled to the planet's space gate."

  He didn't elaborate. She neither needed nor wanted him to. She closed her eyes, suddenly tired beyond measure.

  "All right," she said softly. "Thank you." God, now what?

  On numb legs, she walked back to the table. Cestan and Galven might have noticed her absence; it was impossible to tell.

  "The Falnori lands lie closer to the Hall," Galven was saying. "It would not have been difficult for your kind to stage this `raid' to disrupt this accord and further your own cause.

  Cestan laughed, a caustic sound without a trace of humor. "You clutch at smoke. It was I who first agreed to take part in these talks."

  Steeling herself to head back into the fray, Elizabeth raised her voice. "Minister, Governor, I think you've lost sight of a critical point. The raiders had a ship. That fact suggests that they were not Falnori or Nistra, but uninvited guests from elsewhere."

  Galven didn't miss a beat with his reply. "Possibly not uninvited. A convenient arrangement for someone who wishes to conceal his involvement."

  "That claim could just as easily be applied to you!" Cestan fired back.

  Elizabeth bit down on the inside of her lip to keep from screaming out her frustration. Were these men serious? Each blaming all the ills of the world on the other? "Gentlemen, please," she said wearily. "How much contact do either of you have with travelers through the Stargate? Do you have trading partners on other planets who could be responsible for something like this?"

  "Not many, and none steady," answered Cestan.

  A nod signaled Galven's agreement. "Of late there has been little to trade."

  "So you say. Yet you have shown no evidence of these supposed raids into your territory." Cestan's demeanor grew thoughtful. "Just as Dr. Weir's people found mine, other off-worlders could have found you. Have the Nistra struck a new accord with someone else? Is that where your adarite goes?"

  "You speak of evidence?" Suddenly Galven looked slightly paranoid and rather dangerous, his eyes darting back and forth between the governor and Elizabeth. "These off-worlders `found' you, and we have only their word as to what happened here today. How can I be sure of their honesty?"

  That did it. Elizabeth faced the Nistra leader squarely, skewering him with her gaze. In the iciest tone she could summon, she said, "Minister, my people came here in good faith, and two of them are now dead. If you think this is an appropriate time to question our intent, let me state in the plainest possible terms that you are mistaken."

  It was a minor victory of sorts. Both men briefly fell silent, taken aback. After a moment, a subdued Galven spoke up. "Please accept my apologies, Doctor. I was not aware of your losses."

  "Nor was I," Cestan added immediately. "Today we all mourn. A line has been crossed. These raids cannot continue. If the boundaries of the Hall are not respected, it may be time to consider enforcing them with guards."

  "Falnori guards?"

  "Stop." Elizabeth held up a hand, keeping a tenuous grip on her confidence. True, the first round of negotiations had deteriorated into wild conspiracy theories, but there might still be something left to salvage.

  There had to be. She refused to accept the possibility that Ronon and Teyla had died for a petty territorial squabble.

  "I don't believe we're accomplishing anything of value right now. I propose a day-long recess for all of us to carefully consider what our goals for these talks should be." She put every ounce of authority she possessed into her next statement. "I suggest that all parties either come back with open minds, or don't come back at all."

  Turning on her heel, she strode toward the stairs. Cestan made an aborted attempt to head her off, but his protest died when Lorne blocked his path. She heard the Major move to follow her as she took the steps without so much as a glance behind.

  After releasing Corporals Adams and Pratt to their quarters, Carson was relieved to find the infirmary empty of patients. He wasn't sure he'd completely grasped the fact that Teyla and Ronon were gone, and he suspected that when the reality of it finally hit him, he'd be useless for a good while.

  Most likely there would be those among the expedition who didn't feel the loss of two aliens as keenly as they would for one of their own. It had been a long time, though, since Carson had even thought the word `alien' in that context. Kind Teyla, graceful in every sense of the word, and loyal Ronon, who'd defended this city and its inhabitants as if he'd been born to it.

  On second thought, maybe keeping busy would serve him for a bit longer. Carson had no desire to conjure up an image of his friends' bodies floating abandoned in space, nor did he need to recall the look in Colonel Sheppard's eyes when he'd at last conceded defeat.

  Surely there were some supplies around here somewhere that were due for an inventory.

  Seven shelves of medical tape and rubber gloves later, Carson heard the main doors to the infirmary slide open. Stepping out of the supply room, he found two science team members looking around with uncertainty and some trepidation. "How can I help you gentlemen?"

  Radek Zelenka rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling unkempt hair as he hesitated. "My head aches," he finally admitted.

  For a moment, Carson was oddly grateful to have someone to help, someone within his reach now that two others were beyond it. Instantly he shut down that line of thought. "When did you first notice the pain?"

  "About a day."

  "And the severity?"

  Radek's shrug was muted, as if the motion might ex
acerbate his discomfort. All he said, though, was, "So far it has been manageable without aspirin."

  A bit odd, that. Radek wasn't the squeaky-wheel type, but neither was he overly stoic. "At the risk of treating you like Rodney," asked Carson, "if it's manageable, what's got you concerned enough to come here?"

  The Czech aimed a pointed glance at his companion-Dr. Wen, Carson recalled.

  "I have noticed a slight headache ever since returning from P7L-418," said Wen.

  "And you think there's a connection? Radek, I didn't realize you'd gone off-world with the team."

  "I did not." Radek's demeanor was grave. "However, of anyone in the city, Wen and I have spent the most time in contact with the ore."

  That was quite a wrinkle. "I see." Having no other response, Carson produced a penlight. Comprehending, Radek took off his glasses to submit to a cursory exami nation. "Pupils are a bit dilated, but not to an alarming degree," Carson noted. "I trust you've locked up the adarite sample?"

  "It is in an airlock chamber in the energy lab," Wen assured him.

  "Good. I'll want to run some tests of my own on it. Realize, of course, that two people are not enough to be considered much of a pattern." With a reassuring smile, he clapped a hand on Radek's shoulder. "This might be a simple coincidence."

  "It might." Radek didn't look at all comforted. "But what was I doing three hours ago?"

  "I couldn't begin to guess. Was it something significant?"

  "I would not know. I cannot remember."

  Carson felt the smile bleed away from his face. If Radek was serious-and he certainly looked serious-this had just escalated from a minor issue to a substantial concern. "Short-term memory loss in addition to the headache. Any other symptoms?" Radek shook his head miserably, and Carson turned to Wen. "And you?"

  The engineer shifted from foot to foot. "My memory is intact, I think, but parts of the mission are...fuzzy. One would expect a hostage situation to have some clarity in hindsight."