STARGATE ATLANTIS: The Wild Blue (SGX-05)

by Melissa Scott

  Cai squinted at the map. “That’s the old Wild Blue mine.”

  “Yes?” Mel still didn’t read Satedan very well.

  “A silver mine, I think,” Cai said. “It was mostly silver and lead up there.”

  “That would make sense.” Mel touched keys, calling up the drone photographs. “We’ve done our best to enhance these, but they’re not very clear. This one, though… That’s the same area we saw before, and it’s definitely cut timber.”

  Cai nodded. “Could have been from before the attack, though.”

  “I agree.” Mel called up the next image. “But this — it isn’t as clear, but it looks as though that’s a trail there. Yustyna — Yustyna Tan, she’s been doing most of the enhancement and analysis — she says that the bushes would have grown back if it wasn’t in recent use. And this one could be the roof of a building.”

  “There were plenty of buildings up there around the mines,” Cai said. “Little towns, the mine buildings themselves. That trail, though…”

  Mel bit her tongue to keep from talking, watching him page forward and back through the file of pictures. She had learned long ago that it was better not to oversell her ideas; she’d made the best case she could, and now it was up to Cai. And they both knew it was time to give the Rapide a proper test.

  “All right.” Cai slid the laptop back to her again. “If I say yes, what’s your plan?”

  Mel was careful not to smile. “It looks as though we’ve got a stretch of good weather coming up, so my idea is to take Yustyna as photographer and fly up the west side of the Spur.”

  “The west side?”

  “That way we wouldn’t have to cross the Spur until we were sure everything was working properly, and we’d be right in line for Narmoth Falls if we had any problems. Plus we could follow the rail line north, and wouldn’t have to worry about navigating. Once we reach the Falls, turn east, cross the Spur, and fly a search pattern over the likely area.” She circled the northern end of the Spur, centered on the mine Cai had named the Wild Blue. “We’ll have time to cover it thoroughly and still make it back to the field before sundown.”

  Cai rubbed his chin, then nodded. “All right. When do you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow.” Mel spread her hands. “We’re ready, and the weather is ideal. There’s no point in delaying.”

  “All right,” Cai said again. “Confirm with Dex that the landing strip is clear, and — you have permission.”

  ***

  Mel made her way to the airfield in the rising light, a thermos of Earth coffee in her hand to mark the occasion. The radio operator at the power plant had confirmed that the landing strip was clear, though Wood warned that the surface was still rough enough to damage tires. If we end up landing there, that’ll be the least of our worries, Mel thought. The Rapide was already pushed out onto the well-mown grass, both Satedan and Air Force technicians making their final checks. Tan broke away from the others and came to meet her, heavy camera bouncing against her chest.

  “Are we going?”

  Mel nodded. “Everything’s in order. The governor sends his best wishes.”

  Tan broke into an excited grin. “We’re ready. We’ve been ready.”

  “I know,” Mel said. “But now — now we go.”

  Emergency supplies were tucked into the rear of the cabin, and Mel checked them quickly, making sure that everything was there and balanced for takeoff. They had supplies to last ten days if they were forced down, and that was plenty of time for someone from Atlantis to collect them in a puddle jumper. If they survived, of course, a voice whispered at the back of her mind, but she pushed that aside. The Rapide was one of the sturdiest kit-built planes available, and she and McKay and the rest of Atlantis’s crew had modified the frame to make it even stronger. If she had to set down in the woods, she was pretty sure the Rapide would hold together. That didn’t mean the engines couldn’t blow up — she still didn’t really understand how McKay had managed to adapt the naquadah generator to power the Rapide’s propellers — but that was another thing she wasn’t going to think about. Everything had worked fine in the tests, and there was no reason to think things would be any different just because she was going to be a few hundred miles further from the capital.

  She did her walk-around, checking the exterior for any problems, any systems that were out of adjustment or anything that they might have forgotten. As usual, the Rapide was clean, the sleek white hull gleaming in the sun, and she ducked under the wing and out around the canard that jutted from the nose. That was one of the things that made the Rapide so suited for this job, keeping it stable even in the turbulence that came off the mountains; between that and the twin engines in the rear, she doubted she’d need to worry too much about the downslope winds on the eastern side of the Spur. It was just a pity they didn’t have a satellite in orbit to read the weather for her, but she could manage.

  Tan climbed past her into the cabin, and she heard the camera hatch in the Rapide’s belly slide open. A moment later, the boxy lens poked below the hull, and the latches clicked into place.

  “Everything in order?” the chief mechanic called from the hangar door, and Mel waved in answer.

  “It all looks good! Ready to start engines.”

  “Go ahead,” the mechanic answered, and Mel hauled herself into the cabin, then pulled the door closed behind her. She dogged it shut and stepped over Tan, who was lying on the deck making final adjustments to the camera, to settle herself in the pilot’s seat.

  “I’m ready to start the engines,” she called, and a moment later Tan scrambled forward to take the co-pilot’s seat.

  “Shall I handle the radio?” Tan’s voice was calm, as though she’d been flying all her life, not taken her first ride less than three months ago.

  “Please.” At least there were no complicated traffic control proceedings to worry about, Mel thought, as she got the engines running and waited for them to warm up. This must have been what it was like in the last century back on Earth, back when aviation was just getting started. You got in your plane, fired up the engines, and took off whenever you pleased. “Tell everyone I’m ready to taxi,” she said aloud, and heard Tan relay the information.

  “The landing strip’s clear.”

  “All right.” Mel eased the throttle forward, the Rapide jolting forward over the close-cut grass, then turned into the light wind. “Ready for take-off.”

  “You’re cleared,” the chief mechanic answered, the voice crackling in her headphones. “Good luck and safe journey.”

  “Thanks.” Mel checked rudder and elevators one last time, and advanced the throttle. In the same moment, she released the brakes and the Rapide leaped forward, engines roaring. The nose came up quickly, and she tugged the control column back, feeling the wings catch the air. The Rapide rose, easily clearing the wrecked buildings at the end of the strip, and she watched the instruments as the city dropped away beneath them. She circled once at 500 feet, a lazy left-hand turn to make sure everything felt right, then checked her compass and settled onto the heading that would take them toward the railroad line. The sky was clear except for a few wisps of cloud far above them — fifteen thousand feet, she guessed, and she wasn’t taking the Rapide anywhere near them.

  “It’s a beautiful day for flying,” she said aloud, and saw Tan grin in answer.

  ***

  Ronon surveyed the cleared length of roadway with satisfaction, stretching a little to work the kinks out of his back and neck. They had gotten all the saplings cut and cleared the day before; most of the wood was cut and trimmed and stacked to season, and the smallest bits were piled at each end of the runway to make bonfires if the Rapide needed to land after dark. That would be a real emergency, of course, and if the Rapide was forced to make the attempt by firelight, the condition of the runway would be the least of Hocken’s worries.

  He put that thought aside, turning slowly to survey the clearing. Bar and a Satedan technician named Tec were finishin
g the last sweep of the pavement, pushing brooms that Kos had found in one of the supply closets. They were coming steadily closer, leaving little puffs of dust in their wake, and Ronon thought the landing strip was about as ready as it was going to be. On the other side of the clearing, the windows of the power plant glowed even in the daylight, and the sound of the turbines blended with the roar of the falls. The generator was still functioning perfectly, and the engineers had professed themselves certain of being able to start the rest of the generators once there was somewhere to send the power. Of course, that meant restringing what seemed like an impossible length of power line, but the scientists were treating it as though it were in fact possible. And if it could be done, there would be enough power in the capital to lure more Satedans back to their world. It might even be possible to get some of the factories running again.

  Tec lifted a hand in greeting as the pair reached the end of the pavement. “Any word from the capital?”

  “Not yet —” He broke off as his radio clicked on.

  “Sir, I have Colonel Hocken on air,” Wood said, from the radio station inside the plant’s lobby. “She thinks she’s about twenty minutes out, and wants to know if the landing strip is ready.”

  “Can you put me through?” Ronon looked up again, though the Rapide would be too far out to see.

  “Patching you through.”

  Static crackled, and Hocken said, “Ronon, do you copy?”

  “I hear you,” Ronon answered. “The landing strip is as good as it’s going to get.”

  “Could you be a bit more specific?”

  “All the little trees are cut down and we’ve cleared all debris.” Ronon paused. “You might want to take a look before you decide if it’s good enough for an emergency.”

  “I figured that would be a good plan.” Ronon could hear momentary laughter in Hocken’s voice, and then she sobered. “I’ll circle over the area and take a good look, and if everything seems in order, I’ll make a low-altitude pass to check it out. That all right with you?”

  He was, Ronon realized abruptly, the senior officer at the power plant, by either Satedan or Lantean reckoning. “Yeah, go ahead.”

  “Copy that,” Hocken said. “We’re coming up from the south, following the road.”

  “We’ll be looking for you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Ronon could see the rest of the team spilling out of the plant, peering up into the sky and pointing.

  “Here,” Tec said, to Bar, “I’ll take that in for you.”

  Bar smiled her thanks, and Tec balanced both brooms on his shoulder, heading toward the plant. Bar looked back at Ronon. “Did — I don’t suppose they’ve seen anything?”

  “Hocken?”

  Bar nodded. “I know they weren’t really looking, but maybe —”

  “She didn’t say anything. I’ll ask once she’s made her fly-over.” Ronon paused. “You’re really worried about your brother.”

  She gave a little shrug. “Well, of course. They were supposed to check in, and we haven’t heard anything.”

  “I thought he was used to going into the back country.”

  “He’s done it before,” Bar answered. “And General Mar is very good.”

  “Yeah. So I’ve heard.” The radio buzzed again, and he looked up to see a tiny dot moving toward them just above the treetops.

  “Ronon,” Hocken said. “I’ve got the clearing and the plant in site — is it just me, or are things in good shape down there?”

  “They’re not bad,” Ronon answered. “How’s the Rapide?”

  “Flies like a dream,” Hocken answered, and there was no mistaking the satisfaction in her voice. “You can tell Dr. McKay that the generator works like a charm.”

  “Copy that.” Ronon watched as the Rapide came closer, changing from a dot to a dot with wings to the familiar shape. He could hear the engines now, loud enough to be heard even over the sound of the falls, and thought that any survivors would at least respond to the noise.

  The Rapide tipped into a lazy turn, pivoting on the downward wingtip, swung back over the clearing. “Everything looks good,” Hocken said. “I’m going to make a pass over the strip, and if that looks good, I’ll do another at treetop level. Wood, what’s the wind speed?”

  “Five knots from the north northeast,” Wood answered promptly. “Downdraft off the Plateau.”

  “Five knots from the north-northeast,” Hocken repeated. “Copy that.”

  Ronon shaded his eyes as the Rapide circled back toward them, shedding altitude. Hocken steered the Rapide the length of the landing strip, then pulled up again, banking west to circle back to the southern end of the field.

  “Looks good. I’m coming in at treetop level.”

  “Go ahead,” Ronon answered.

  The Rapide turned again, dropping more rapidly this time, until its wheels seemed about to brush the tops of the trees. Once past the clearing’s edge, it dropped even lower, the short-winged nose coming up, and it roared the full length of the cleared strip before Hocken pulled it up and away.

  “I can land there,” she said. “It looks great.”

  That filled Cai’s requirement, and Ronon nodded. “Ok. Then you’re cleared to check out the drone sightings. Question before you go, Colonel.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “A group went out into the back country and hasn’t checked in. Did you see any sign that they’d been through?”

  “Negative,” Hocken answered, the Rapide spiraling up and away from the clearing. “We weren’t looking, though, and all that country’s pretty heavily wooded.”

  “Understood, thanks,” Ronon said.

  “Ask her if she could see any damaged transmission towers,” Zelenka said abruptly.

  Ronon hadn’t seen him approach, but keyed the radio. “One more question. Could you see any damaged transmission towers?”

  “That’s a negative, too,” Hocken answered. “We could see some intact, but the road was heavily overgrown in spots. Yustyna has good video, though.”

  “See if you can get another look on the way back,” Ronon said. “If it doesn’t affect the mission.”

  “Roger that,” Hocken answered. “We’ll be in touch once we start the search pattern.”

  “Copy that, Colonel,” Wood answered. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Hocken answered, and the Rapide turned again, rising over the edge of the Plateau.

  “Anything?” Zelenka asked, and Ronon shook his head.

  “She had video, we’ll have to wait until it’s downloaded.”

  Zelenka sighed. “I suppose I didn’t expect any better. Still, if we could just get those power lines back up —”

  “We’d be in good shape,” Ronon said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  MEL LET the Rapide climb to three thousand feet as they crossed the edge of the Plateau. Below the Rapide’s wing, the Tellhart River wound through a landscape of grass and scrubby trees, to vanish abruptly over the plateau’s edge. There had been ruins at the top of the falls, a roofless stone shell of a building, and she remembered that the Eze family had said there was a switchback path from there down to the power plant. Presumably both had originally been part of the power system, though she hadn’t thought to ask before they left. Not that it really mattered, either, and she glanced again at her controls. All the instruments were in perfect order, and she checked the compass heading, then tipped the Rapide into a shallow turn. The world wheeled beneath her, the Rapide beautifully responsive to the slightest touch, and she saw Tan crane her head to see out the side window.

  “Spot anything?”

  Tan shook her head as the Rapide leveled out again. “Just the top of the falls. Did I see that they had the power working in the plant?”

  “I didn’t notice,” Mel confessed.

  “I suppose you were thinking of other things,” Tan conceded. “It’s good to have another place to land.”

  “Yeah. With luck, it’ll persuade the governor to let us push a lit
tle further north.”

  “Maybe we could even bring some of the drones to the Falls, set up another base. We could still use the transmitter at Escavera as a beacon.”

  “That’s a possibility,” Mel said, but her attention was on her instruments. No satellites orbited Sateda, there was no GPS to guide her, only the radio stations at the capital and Narmoth Falls and Escavera for relative bearings, and the local compass to give her a heading. She was glad she’d kept current in civilian planes and ultralights: this was like the early days of aviation, before radar and direction-finding radios; she was glad to have a good view of the ground, and solid landmarks to steer by.

  She checked her position against the line of the Spur, the steep treeless ridge sharp as a knife’s blade before the dark rock gave way to easier slopes and scrubby conifers. Supposedly there were a dozen mines cut into this side of the Spur, where the slopes were shallower and the ore more accessible, though some of them had been closed before the Wraith came. That didn’t mean that someone couldn’t be living in the shelter of a played-out mine, so they’d need to make a couple of passes to be sure they covered all of them. She glanced at the space where the fuel indicator had been, and instead saw the bars that showed output from the pocket naquadah generator glowing green, quivering at the line that indicated seventy percent of maximum power. That had proved to be their most efficient range in the trials, and she was pleased to see it holding true on this flight.