SGA-17 Legacy 2 - The Lost

by Graham, Jo

  More tentacles rose toward him, one reaching out toward the flashlight. Lorne considered his options, and let go of the flashlight. The creature curled its tentacle around it, tilting the flashlight back and forth in the water.

  “The last array is in place,” Zelenka said. “I am turning it on.” There was another rush of bubbles, and then the sensor vane lit with twinkling red light.

  The glow of the creature’s body shifted, dimmer red lights spreading against skin that had gone suddenly dark. It looked a lot like the sensor vane.

  One for the biologists, Lorne told himself, and pushed off from the hull, trying to kick toward the jumper without making sudden movements. Green and Campbell followed. Green started to switch on the light on her camera, but Lorne motioned for her to leave it. They didn’t want to draw the creature’s attention as they tried to make their retreat.

  It stayed where it was, and Lorne thought he could see the glow of the flashlight’s beam moving erratically through the water along with the light shed by the creature itself. Then it moved, faster than he would have thought possible, rushing past them into the darkness, the flashlight tumbling abandoned through the water behind it.

  Lorne heard the noise a moment later, a grinding that he hoped wasn’t an iceberg about to send giant chunks of ice tumbling toward his team. Green caught his arm and pointed toward the edge of the city, and he looked up toward where the water was lit by the gray sunlight.

  A ring of spikes were sliding down through the water, meters long and angled out to deflect any impact. Between them, cables stretched to make an underwater fence that would catch anything small enough to slip between the spikes. Here and there Lorne thought he saw gaps, but they could take a look later, and mend anything that looked the worse for wear.

  “That is perfectly lovely,” Zelenka said. “Now come inside and get warm.”

  Lorne wasn’t about to argue with that.

  * * *

  … and returned the ship to the Genii, thereby ensuring the continuation of smooth diplomatic relations, Dick typed. He hesitated, and then deleted the last part of the sentence. Not strong enough, and anyway he felt that describing their relations with the Genii in the past as smooth was probably more of a creative interpretation of the truth than the IOA was likely to swallow. Thereby avoiding a diplomatic incident that might well have…

  The trick was making the consequences sound significant enough to justify handing over an Ancient battle cruiser, but not so dire as to make the IOA question the wisdom of trying to make a deal with the Genii in the first place. He very much suspected that couldn’t be done. He wasn’t looking forward to the IOA reading this report. A diplomatic incident that…

  …that would have been very embarrassing, Dick typed, and then deleted the words with a sigh.

  He looked up at a diffident knock on the doorframe, feeling grateful for the distraction. “Dr. Zelenka, please come in. What can I do for you?”

  “Well, I have good news and bad news,” Zelenka said.

  “At least there is some good news,” Dick said.

  “A bit, yes,” Zelenka said. “We have managed to reactivate the Ancient systems intended to protect the city from damage by floating ice. We may still have problems if we encounter extremely large icebergs, but Major Lorne says there is no problem with towing those out of the way, or even just blowing them up.”

  “Is blowing up icebergs entirely safe?”

  Zelenka shrugged. “I think not particularly, but he says that the demolitions experts could use the practice, and I suppose it is not more dangerous than blowing up anything else.”

  “I suppose that makes sense,” Dick said. He had been dealing with the military for decades, now, and he still sometimes found their perspective a little hard to grasp. “Any more good news?”

  “Not really,” Zelenka said. “The biologists are concerned about the pigeon issue.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “They sent you memos? We have pigeons?”

  “Of course,” Dick said. “The pigeons.” He’d seen an email about pigeons, he was fairly sure, but it hadn’t seemed to be a priority compared to the offworld teams that still hadn’t reported back at the time. “And they’re concerned because…”

  “It could be damaging to this planet’s ecosystem,” Zelenka said. “Pigeons can be an invasive species. However, as far as we can tell there are no native birds, and I am skeptical that the pigeons can survive outside the city in this weather. Here they have warmth, and they seem to be finding sources of food.”

  Dick frowned. “Would that be our supplies?”

  “We have taken measures to make our storerooms pigeon-proof, so we will see how that goes. They are resourceful birds.”

  “Is there something else we should be doing?”

  Zelenka shrugged again. “I think poison would be more likely to harm the ecosystem than the pigeons, especially if the pigeons were eaten by any of the native sea life. We have a sort of giant squid, apparently. There are various strategies for driving pigeons away, but as there is essentially nowhere for them to go, that is unlikely to be effective.”

  “Back up a moment,” Dick said. “Giant squid?”

  “They seem to be doing no harm, although they were alarming for our divers to encounter unexpectedly. They are probably interesting to the marine biologists, but in terms of their effect on city systems…” Zelenka made a dismissive gesture, possibly indicating that as long as they didn’t pose a technical problem, he didn’t consider them a priority.

  “And essentially you’re recommending that we do nothing about the pigeons.”

  “Yes. I think the pigeon situation is not really a crisis.”

  “Let’s do that, then,” Dick said. He was very much in the mood for problems that could be solved by doing nothing. “Was that the bad news?”

  “That would be nice,” Zelenka said. “No, the bad news is much worse. I have been working on trying to ensure that the Wraith cannot access Atlantis’s computer systems using information they have gained from Rodney.” Dick nodded. “It is a bigger problem than I thought. I am finding multiple back doors into the system, and this is suggesting that there are many I am not finding. Right now in my opinion the computer system is not secure.”

  Dick let out a breath. “All right. What do we do?”

  “I will need help on this one,” Zelenka said.

  Dick had a sinking feeling about where this one seemed to be going. “I suppose we could ask Colonel Carter if she could spare any time to our computer security,” he said. Asking the person who’d had his job before him for help wasn’t exactly a position he wanted to be in, but neither was having the Wraith with free access to Atlantis’s computers. “I know she plans to keep the Hammond on station here for at least a few more days in case we do hear from Todd.”

  “That would be helpful. I am just thinking that if we do not, we will need help for more than a few days. The Daedalus should be leaving Earth shortly on its way here — ”

  “Yes,” Dick acknowledged. “Unfortunately, I think we’re in no position to request additional staff. The IOA has made it very clear that they will not authorize any further expenses this fiscal year, and that was before they read the report I’m about to send them.”

  Zelenka’s eyebrows raised. “Is it that bad?”

  Dick spread his hands. “I have to tell them that we let Todd escape, that Dr. McKay is in the hands of the Wraith and may be handing over the access codes to our computer system as we speak, and that we just gave a functional Ancient battle cruiser to the Genii. Let’s just say they won’t be happy.”

  “It was worse the first year,” Zelenka said, with the ghost of a smile.

  “Most of the first year, Dr. Weir was entirely out of contact with Earth,” Dick said. “I’m beginning to envy her.”

  “I am not suggesting we hire someone new,” Zelenka said. “Frankly what I need as much as someone with Rodney’s computer skills is someone who understands ho
w Rodney thinks. Myself, I try not to think like Rodney most of the time. It is better for my peace of mind.”

  “What are you suggesting?” Dick asked as patiently as possible.

  “Jeannie Miller,” Zelenka said.

  “Dr. McKay’s sister?”

  “She has worked with him in the past, and she understands him as much I suspect as anyone does. If anyone can figure out what back doors Rodney has left for himself and how to close them, I suspect it is her.”

  “I should really write to her in any event, to inform her… I was planning to wait a little longer, but I’ll go ahead and ask if she’s willing to come out and give us some assistance.”

  “That would be very helpful,” Zelenka said. “It will be at least couple of weeks before the Daedalus can get here, but if we wait and it leaves without her, it will be a month or more.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. And then figure out how to explain it to the IOA in a way that doesn’t overly emphasize Dr. McKay’s unauthorized modifications to the computer system.”

  “I will leave you that in your hands,” Zelenka said quickly, and left.

  “I’m sure you will,” Dick said to no one in particular, and began typing again.

  Chapter Thirty-two: Dangerous Passages

  Teyla stretched, trying to find balance. Her left hip was still tender, though the range of motion was back. The problem was weight. When she tried to stand on her left foot and extend her right foot straight out in front until her toes were level with her shoulders, her left hip gave. It was very frustrating.

  Dr. Keller had said that the bone bruise would heal well eventually, but a matter of weeks seemed like such a long time. “It has only been six days,” Dr. Keller had said. “You have to give it time.” And yet time was the thing it felt there was so little of. Every day, every moment that flew by, was another moment that Rodney remained in captivity, was another day that he might be giving the Wraith everything they wished to know, was another day he might be in torment while they had no idea where he was or what they might do.

  It weighed upon them, knowing there was nothing to do. How do you search the galaxy for one man?

  Teyla stretched, extending her arms in counterpoint to her legs, each extension graceful and controlled, her long thin slitted skirt opening in flowing lines.

  Mr. Woolsey said that they must give their sources time to work. John had only returned from returning the Avenger to the Genii day before yesterday. It would take time for their intelligence networks to be cast wide to bring in useful information, even if Ladon Radim acted immediately to keep their bargain. Teyla did not doubt that he would at least bend some effort to keeping it, but how much and how quickly was questionable. And so they must prepare and wait, make certain that everything was in readiness when the call came.

  It seemed like so little. It felt like doing nothing, and how could they do nothing even for a few hours? It was worse with Torren on New Athos. When he was here, Teyla never lacked for something to do. Every moment was filled and more so. While he was with Kanaan, she might sleep with no regard for his schedule, eat with her friends, go to the gym. And yet this day seemed to be taking forever.

  Though it was only ten in the morning.

  Stretch. Concentrate. Surely even if her mind were too disordered to meditate, she could find release for this tension in movement. Eyes closed, stretching toward the bright snowlight that came in through the stained glass window, the city’s heating systems purring softly…

  The sound of the studio door opening.

  “Oh, sorry,” John said.

  She opened her eyes to see him standing just inside, clad in sweat pants and a black t shirt, his gym bag in his hand.

  “I didn’t realize you were here,” he said.

  Which was an out and out lie, Teyla thought. If he had not known she was here he would not be carrying his bantos sticks. Also, he would have knocked on the studio door before entering if he truly did not know who was using this room.

  John at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “I can come back,” he said.

  For a moment she was almost tempted to say, yes, you can, so foul was her mood. But it would be unfair to take it out on John, when he was as worried as she was and probably equally keyed up. “I do not mind sharing the room,” she said, her shoulder cracking as she completed the stretch and sank into her last posture. Thankfully, her hip held, though it twinged rather painfully.

  John shrugged, his sticks protruding from his gym bag. “Want to spar? I promise I’ll take it easy with your hip.”

  “Will you?” Teyla’s eyebrows rose. “Will you take it easy on me?” Absolute nerve, as though she didn’t clean the floor with him nine times out of ten.

  “Yeah, I mean, you’re just getting back into it and all…” He gave her a sideways smile. “Maybe I’ll win for a change.”

  “I would not place any bets on that,” Teyla said, going over to the bench for her sticks.

  “Think you can take me with your hip messed up?”

  Teyla turned around, lifting her sticks into guard, her eyes meeting his in challenge. “I can take you anytime, any way I want.”

  “Ok then.” He lifted his, a smile transforming his face, reminding her suddenly of that so much younger man who had come to Athos nearly six years ago, who had said that he liked tea and Ferris wheels and things that went very fast. “Come and get me.”

  “I will,” she said, beginning a long, wide circle around him, sticks at the ready.

  There were ways to compensate for an injury. In real fights this happened all the time. More than once she’d had to take on an opponent when she was already wounded. Of course John had both the height and reach on her, not to mention the strength, but it had never done him that much good before.

  Circling, circling. She saw the movement in his eyes an instant before he lunged, and she sidestepped it easily, spinning around him on her right foot, bringing the stick down in a stinging blow across the back of his thighs.

  “Yow!” He twisted around, dropping out of guard as he did, his left arm rising.

  Perfect. A straightforward forearm blow, right across the inside of his left arm.

  John dropped the left hand stick, and Teyla backed off, circling, a little smile on her face. “Are you going easy on me? Or perhaps I should go easy on you?”

  He bent and picked it up, his eyes not leaving hers. “That wasn’t fair.”

  “Wasn’t it?” she asked airily. “You can surrender anytime you like.”

  “I don’t think so.” He was grinning as he picked up the stick, though she could see the long red welt standing out on his forearm. “We’re not done.”

  “No, we’re not,” she said. Circling. Circling. This time he was going to wait and let her come to him. Which was smarter, actually, give the difference in their heights. Playing defensively was a better strategy for him, but one he almost never used.

  A feint, and she dropped below his response, letting the momentum of his movement carry him sideways to her as she once again stepped behind him. Both sticks, in swift one-two motion, right across the seat of the pants. No doubt it was less painful than the forearm blow but more embarrassing.

  He backed off, scrubbing his sweat soaked hair back off his forehead. “What’s gotten into you today?”

  “Merely blowing off some steam,” Teyla said. It felt so good to move like this, to feel each connection solid and real. “If it is too much for you, you can retire.”

  “It’s not nearly too much,” he said, circling again. “I can take a lot of punishment.”

  “I’m sure you can.” Reversing direction, stalking sunward around him. “But you do not have to.”

  “Think I’m going to back down?”

  “You could.” Circling, circling. The tips of their sticks touched, just grazing each other in passing, her eyes on his.

  “Gonna have to do better than that,” he said, and exploded into motion, a furious feint and lunge toward her
bad side. She caught his stick on hers, though the weight behind it nearly pushed her to her knees, arms straining, a foot apart.

  “Your fly is unzipped,” Teyla said.

  He looked and in that moment she disengaged, slipping under his stick like a whisper, laughing as she went.

  John straightened up, a sheepish expression on his face. “I can’t believe I fell for that! I’m wearing sweat pants.”

  “You are too easy to distract,” she said.

  “Yeah,” he said, his eyes smiling into hers.

  “You had better be careful,” she said. “An unscrupulous opponent could take advantage of you.”

  “They might,” he said. “Lucky for me, I don’t like playing it safe.”

  “Don’t you?” Another feint, and this time she slipped to the left, dodging his riposte neatly. The left stick caught him in the back of the knees and he dropped before her, the right stick going around his throat as she leaned forward, her right knee in his back and his shoulders pulled back against her, the back of his head against her belly.

  “Erk,” he said as his knees hit the floor, and he looked up at her, the stick at his throat, taut as a bow in her hands.

  “Will you yield to me at last?” Teyla asked quietly, feeling his pulse thrumming in his neck, hammering in time with hers.

  His eyes met hers. “Oh yeah,” he said as she bent over him.

  * * *

  “Colonel Sheppard to the gateroom! Colonel Sheppard to the gateroom! We have an incoming transmission from Todd.” Amelia Banks switched the radio back out of transmit and looked up at Woolsey leaning over her shoulder.

  “Put Todd on,” Dick Woolsey said grimly. “Let’s see what he has to say.”

  The viewscreen stabilized, a grainy picture that showed nothing but a headshot of Todd. “I only have a moment, and I will only say this once,” he said. “Dr. McKay is being held aboard Queen Death’s hiveship. Most of the time he is in the forward laboratory section. You are fortunate, as that section is less heavily guarded than most of the ship.” He gave what might pass for a Wraith smirk.