The Drift

by Diane Dru Botsford

  Huang sat up straight upon hearing the name of Lord Yu’s long dead enemy. How was this possible? As a crèche-child, he had learned by heart the tale of Lord Yu’s battle a thousand years ago. A tale in which his master has vanquished the most evil of System Lords for having attempted to destroy Ancient China by flooding the Yellow River.

  “We found these on the ocean floor during what we’d hoped to be a salvage operation.” Chen hefted one of the communication devices in his hand. “It would seem the Russians knew about the Stargate Program for several years. In return, they’ve received untold benefits in the form of alien technology, including plans to the F-302, an advanced interceptor plane.”

  The ball’s shimmer dissipated.

  “The Russians knew?” Huang put a hand to his mouth to cover his disappointment.

  Chen tossed the ball back into the box. “Turn the page.”

  Huang did so. Two photographs lay side-by-side. One of a team of green-clad American soldiers shooting at a glider, the other of a crude box-like duplicate, its wingtips exhibiting none of the grace of the Goa’uld aircraft.

  “That is the F-302,” Chen said with barely suppressed anger. “American military hardware inspired by knowledge gathered through the Stargate Program and capable of both aerial combat and space flight.” He slammed his hand down on the desk. “Russia has the plans, but China? No. All we have been offered is the opportunity to send observers in exchange for keeping this enormity from public knowledge.”

  “Observers?” Huang swallowed. “I would volunteer for such a posting.”

  “You?” Chen shot him a glance. “Nonsense. I need you here as my second. This is a task for younger people. As Security Council members, however, we will receive weekly reports from the SGC.”

  “And our observers?”

  “Of course,” Chen said with a knowing smile.

  Huang flipped to the next page. Another photograph of the Chappa’ai — the Stargate, he corrected himself. Deactivated in the picture, it sat at the far end of a large concrete-walled room, surrounded by U.S. military personnel armed with rifles. From Chen’s information, Huang could only assume the photograph was taken at Stargate Command in Colorado.

  Surely, there must be a way to infiltrate this operation. To activate the Stargate and return home. What he needed was information, the more the better. As his ancestor Sun Tzu once said, ‘Knowledge is power.’

  Huang would gather all the knowledge he could before planning his next move. From the corner of his eye, he glanced at the case containing the communication devices. A silvery ripple shot across the untouched ball’s surface.

  It was most definitely active.

  His mind raced. Could he remember the right phrase? Could he truly and finally contact Lord Yu?

  “Who runs this operation?” he asked with forced casualness.

  “General Hammond,” Chen replied, “and a Colonel Jack O’Neill. My impression from Senator Kinsey is that this colonel is something of a fool, though a brave one at that.”

  Huang closed the folder, the beginnings of plan taking shape in his mind. A fool, no matter how brave, would be a minor inconvenience.

  One easily thwarted given the right subterfuge.

  “May I study these for a while?” he asked Chen.

  “As long as you do not leave the facility, of course.” Chen strode toward the door. “I will be interested in your report.” The ambassador dipped his head and departed.

  Huang waited an hour, to be sure the embassy had shut down for the evening and that he was alone. His breath held, he pulled the box to him, opened it and spoke the words.

  Soon after, Lord Yu’s visage arose from within the ball’s depths. Huang dipped his head in obedience.

  “You live.”

  “I do, my lord.” Huang sucked in a tremulous breath and raised his eyes to meet his master. Behind Lord Yu, the twisted limbs of a miniature cherry tree blossomed on the far wall. At its base sat his prized jade statue, a woman cradling a baby.

  “Have you lived according to my tenets?”

  “I — I have,” Huang lied. He told himself that once back in Lord Yu’s service, he would tell the truth of his digression. He would admit to fathering a child.

  But not today. Instead, he shared his experiences amongst the Tau’ri with his master, ending his tale with information about the Stargate Program. “I am prepared to return to your service, my lord.”

  “No, not yet.” Lord Yu stroked his imperial tuft. “Much has happened during your absence, Huang Sun Tzu. You must perform for me one more task. One more enemy to ensnare.”

  “Anything, my lord. Who is this enemy?”

  “SG-1.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ANCIENT OUTPOST, ANTARCTICA

  18 AUG 04/1945 HRS MCMURDO STATION

  “What do you require, General Hammond? A direct call from the UN Secretary-General?”

  “Not while there are other options.” George blocked Duebel from stepping any closer to the hole and the platform beyond. “I’m sorry, Ambassador, but I take my orders from the President, not the United Nations.”

  Duebel stabbed a finger at the Ancient chair. “That thing has cost too many lives.”

  “It’s also saved lives.”

  “I don’t care about the past. It’s the present that matters. Or should I say the future? Your own scientists have indicated that once the sun rises, the seismic activity emitted from that device could tear the continent apart.”

  “I am fully aware of the losses — ”

  “How many more must die before you accept your responsibility? Or is this about your precious SG-1?”

  George sucked in a breath to calm himself down. “Mister Ambassador, given time we could still shut the force field down. The sun doesn’t rise for…” He turned to Dr. Lee who had returned to monitoring the device on his computer.

  “Seventeen hours,” Lee said. “More or less.”

  “More or less?” Duebel shook his head. “You know the immediate destruction of this outpost is the right thing to do. Ambassador Zhu, do you not concur?”

  Duebel turned toward Zhu. She sat at her self-appointed post by the hole, her legs tucked under. Her eyes never left the force field or her countrywoman underneath. Almost too intently, unless —

  “Quing?” Duebel strode to Zhu’s side and knelt down. “Your voice is needed.” He grasped her shoulders.

  “What would you have me do?” she whispered.

  “Trust us, Madame Ambassador,” George entreated. “Allow us the time to — ”

  “Trust. Like your government entrusted mine?” Zhu raised her head and glared right at him. “Two years have passed since you disclosed the Stargate Program to China. Two years in which we’ve watched you trust Russia with plans to your interceptors and naquadah generators, but not us. Never us.”

  Duebel’s eyes widened. “Quing! This is not the time.”

  “This is precisely the right time.” Zhu curled her lips in obvious disdain. “Intelligence points to the United States now providing Russia with plans to something called the X-303. An interplanetary defense spaceship code-named Prometheus.”

  Zhu returned her gaze to the force field. “Do not speak to me of trust, General. You haven’t earned the right. Instead, prove it. Find a way to save this planet.”

  Duebel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. As Zhu shrugged it off, the Swiss ambassador whispered harshly to her. George couldn’t hear what Duebel said, so he turned away to afford them some privacy. As he did, Simmons, and a Security Forces airman with an M-16 slung across his back, hurried in.

  The lieutenant pointed at a cup of coffee in the SF’s hands and then at George. “Black, sir. We couldn’t find any sugar, but there’s enough left for one pot.”

  “Thank you, airman.” George accepted the offered cup. “See if there’s enough for the ambassadors, including Juarez — wherever he took off to.”

  “Yes, sir.” The airman strode
out.

  George sipped his coffee. It was bitter, pretty much a good description of his day so far.

  He glanced back at the two ambassadors still deep in private discussion. “’We have to distrust each other. It’s our only defense against betrayal.’”

  “Sir?”

  George gave Simmons a wan smile. “It’s an old saying, Lieutenant. Almost as old as I feel.”

  Simmons leaned in and whispered, “Sir, you should know. Ambassador Zhu — ”

  “Is Weiyan Shi’s mother.” He gulped down the rest of the coffee. “I’m not surprised, but I should have guessed sooner.”

  “General, you can’t blame yourself for what’s happened.”

  “Can’t I?” George turned toward the Ancient chair. Its cold metal frame and alien architecture stared back at him, a reminder that for every step forward they’d taken with the Stargate Program, the cost had been enormous.

  Shifting his view to the force field, he had to ask himself whether he opposed Duebel’s demands to destroy the outpost because there was still time to find an answer before the sun rose, or was the truth simpler? Was it because he couldn’t take any more losses?

  A mild tremor shook the outpost, sending a light fall of snow down onto the force field and the surrounding floor. Some of it fell on Duebel.

  “What are you waiting for, General? Another station to be flattened?” The ambassador brushed the snow from his gray hair and rose from Zhu’s side, his face dark with rage. “Destroy the outpost and, while you’re at, I want those interceptors that Quing mentioned removed as well. They should not be in Antarctica.”

  “Those F-302s are critical to Earth’s last line of defense.”

  “They’re U.S. military and entirely against the treaty.” He wagged a finger at George. “Stop stalling.”

  “That’s not the case, Ambassador.

  “Mount Erebus has erupted!” Juarez ran into the chamber, waving a piece of paper. He bent over, panting wildly.

  Duebel snatched the report from Juarez and scanned it. “The volcano has had a significant eruption.” He handed it off to Zhu. “That’s only twenty-three miles from McMurdo!”

  “Ah, Mister Ambassador?” Lee scurried over from his monitors. “Erebus has persistent eruptions all the time. There’s even occasional minor lava flows out to its inner crater, but never the outer caldera. An old college buddy of mine works up at the LEH, the Lower Erebus Hut, that’s why — ”

  “Your friend is dead, Doctor.” Zhu lowered the paper. “A rescue helicopter was sent to retrieve the Erebus team, but they found the hut demolished. A five kilometer-wide lava flow erupted from the crater and is burning a path all the way down to the Ross Sea.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Lee insisted. “We would’ve heard something. I would have…”

  The scientist fumbled with his glasses. They dropped. George bent to pick them up, his hand grazing the brutally cold stone floor. He glanced over at Zhu, still sitting down. How she was able to handle the frigid temperature was beyond him.

  Although, if one of his grandchildren were locked beneath an alien force field, George would suffer through anything to ensure their rescue. Which made his next decision all the more difficult.

  He handed the glasses back to Dr. Lee. “I’m sorry for your loss, Bill. If you — ”

  “Rick said Erebus would never amount to anything,” Lee mumbled. “He kept begging for more funds. He wanted to explore more, but the NSF wouldn’t let him.” He dropped his chin down. “It just doesn’t make scientific sense.”

  “That’s all this is to you,” Juarez said, his voice dripping with spite. “A scientific anomaly to be studied.”

  “That’s enough, Ambassador,” George warned. “You’ve made your point.”

  “No, General. This is only the beginning.” Juarez’s chin jutted out in clear defiance. “Destroy this monstrosity,” he waved toward the force field and then the chair, “or I will contact your president myself.”

  “I suppose an eruption could happen,” Lee continued to mumble. “Plate tectonics are a tricky thing… Although, something like a reversal of the magnetic poles could cause added stress, maybe the photonic energy’s directed toward — ”

  “Get him out of here,” Juarez demanded. “If I see another scientist in my lifetime, it will be too soon.”

  Lee apparently didn’t hear the ambassador because he kept on rambling on. “Maybe it’s not magnetic. If the computers work — ”

  “Bill.” George laid a hand on the scientist’s back, hoping he might bring the man’s focus back to the here and now.

  Lee’s eyes rimmed with tears. “I’m sorry, General. Rick was at my wedding, you know?” He swallowed. “This is hard.”

  “I know it is, son.” He nudged the scientist toward the archway to the outer chamber. “Contact Major Davis. Have him get over to the F-302 base at Observation Hill. Pronto. I want the Byrd Station Navy SEALS ordinance team brought here to the outpost ASAP. Ready to detonate.”

  Lee’s eyes widened. “General, we can’t!”

  “I don’t see any other option. Not unless you have a way to turn that thing off.”

  “Not yet, no. If we had someone with a stronger strain of the ATA gene, that might help, but with all the trainees evacuated…” Lee hung his head. “I’m sorry, General. I — ”

  “I’m sorry too, Bill.”

  Rubbing his eyes, Lee hurried toward the archway.

  “And Doctor?”

  Lee stopped and turned around.

  “How many hours until the sun comes up again?”

  “Less than seventeen now.” Lee cocked his head. “Sir?”

  “You’ve got sixteen hours to turn that ‘yet’ of yours into a reality. Make the call and then get back to work.”

  A brief smile flickered across Lee’s face. George hoped it was enough to keep him focused on finding a solution before it was too late.

  “General?” Lt. Simmons backed off from his position by the hole and slipped in front of Duebel and Juarez. The two ambassadors moved off to join Zhu.

  “How are our people, Lieutenant?” asked George.

  “Still unconscious, sir, but General O’Neill’s smiling, if that means anything.”

  “Why am I not surprised?” George pulled up the hood on his parka. The chamber had become damn near the temperature of an iceberg. “Is there anything else, Lieutenant? I’ll need to call the president and obtain clearance before going through with — ”

  “Sir…” Simmons looked over at Ambassador Zhu. “Dr. Lee said that if we had someone with ATA genetics as strong as Weiyan’s, they could use the chair to deactivate the device.”

  “Like mother, like daughter?” George eyed the Chinese ambassador. While she hadn’t admitted to the relationship, certainly saving her child would be worth the revelation. “Once more you’re a step ahead of me, Lieutenant. Why you haven’t put in for a promotion yet is beyond me.”

  Simmons ducked his head. “I wouldn’t want to leave the Stargate Program, sir.”

  “You sound like Major Davis.” George drew in a deep breath, preparing himself for what would undoubtedly be an uncomfortable discussion with Ambassador Zhu. “Why don’t you go see how Dr. Lee is faring? Tell him your idea.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “And make sure Major Davis has those birds headed toward Byrd within the next half hour.”

  Simmons ran through the archway and out into the nearly abandoned main chamber.

  George walked over to the ambassadors. Duebel and Juarez greeted him with silent nods, but Zhu remained focused on the force field, or more specifically, on what lay beneath.

  “Sirs, would you kindly give me a moment alone with Ambassador Zhu?”

  “What for?” Juarez’s eyes narrowed with suspicion.

  Duebel grabbed the Argentine ambassador’s elbow. “Leave it alone, Jorge. He’s agreed to our demands.” He half-dragged Juarez out of the chamber.

&nbs
p; George knelt down beside Zhu. “Madame Ambassador, why didn’t you tell us Weiyan was your daughter?”

  “Trust has many enemies and few friends.”

  “Trust us enough to help save your daughter,” George said, refusing to rise to her bait. “Perhaps a turn in the chair.”

  Zhu laughed. A bitter, empty sound that echoed through the now empty chamber. “I don’t have the ATA gene, General. Weiyan inherited that — and other traits — from her father.”

  George sank back on his heels. “And he’s undoubtedly in China, thousands of miles away.”

  “Oh, further than that, in a manner of speaking,” Zhu said bitterly. “Weiyan’s father is in a psychiatric institution. Completely catatonic and completely insane.”

  Daniel instinctively ducked as an Al’kesh buzzed overhead.

  Beside him, Jack stood his ground. “Would someone please explain how Lord Yu and his minions suddenly became citizens of this ghost town?”

  “If we knew the answer, we wouldn’t be — ”

  “They’re not real.” Sam crouched down beside Weiyan’s self-made foxhole. “It’s safe. Really.”

  “I guess old habits die hard,” Daniel admitted. These weren’t real enemy troops. These were phantoms. Ghosts.

  But why?

  He scanned the valley. The Jaffa battalion who’d marched right through SG-1 earlier had taken up position a good hundred yards back behind Sam. Another battalion came to rest by the opposite end, standing in front of a massive grass-covered hill. The two remaining groups continued toward the rear of the valley, toward the bottom of the cliff Jack had climbed earlier.

  In total, there had to be at least five thousand of Yu’s Jaffa, but again, why?

  Teal’c pointed upwards. “More!”

  Two more Al’kesh buzzed by, coming in for a landing.

  “Someone — ”

  “Or something,” Jack corrected him.

  “Is trying to communicate with us.”

  “Ya think?” Jack whirled toward the battalion behind Sam and frowned. “I’d have preferred a postcard or an email.”