STARGATE SG-1 STARGATE ATLANTIS: Points of Origin - Volume Two of the Travelers' Tales (SGX-03) (STARGATE EXTRA (SGX-03)) Page 32

  But the girl did not look sad about her fate and Sam thought that maybe, even if it had been possible to save her, it would have only been to make herself feel better.

  The whine of the feedback was building and she had to leave now. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about. Now go.”

  Sam turned and dragged Daniel into a transporter. Seconds later they were stumbling out at the bottom and Teal’c was swinging Daniel over his shoulder. As one, they ran for the exit.

  The destruction of the Piper’s Peak had less of a boom than Jack expected. The summit crumbled in on itself, sending a shockwave down the slope, until all that was left were hunks of charred metal. It would take a lot of clearing up, and he guessed there would be a lot of questions that would go unanswered. He dreaded his next trip to buy crullers.

  Sam came to stand next to him. “So, I don’t suppose this has given you a notion to take command of the team again?” Her words were tentative; to go down that path would have a lot of repercussions.

  He looked at her. “You know what? I think I’m done here. Time for something new.”

  They shared a smile, and as they joined Daniel and Teal’c to walk from the wreckage, he added, “I’m just really disappointed it wasn’t the fish.”

  Stargate Atlantis

  Dislocation

  Sally Malcolm

  Sam found the note on her first night in Atlantis. It was tucked under the cover of the novel she’d been attempting to read for the past six months — most nights she managed two pages before sleep claimed her and the book landed on her face.

  The note was written in Jack’s familiar scrawl and simply said:

  Some advice for the Big Chair: you’ll want to take point, but it’s your job to cover their six. Great leaders lead from behind.

  She’d puzzled over it at the time, sitting on the edge of her cold bed in this strange, alien city. And she was puzzling over it still, a couple of weeks later. Leading from behind had never been Jack’s modus operandi, and she didn’t think it would be hers.

  The thought circled the back of her mind as she made her way through Atlantis’s corridors. Every so often she caught sight of her reflection in the city’s mirror-bright walls. The expedition’s uniform — new and a little stiff — looked odd on her, out of place. Or, rather, she did — she looked out of place.

  It wasn’t a new sensation. Moving had been an annual event for Sam as a child, trailing along in the wake of her father’s career. New country, new city, new school: it hadn’t bothered her half as much as it had bothered Mark. But that didn’t mean she’d enjoyed being the new girl.

  She still didn’t.

  On reflection, perhaps that was one reason she’d stayed so long at Stargate Command. They’d been asking for her at Groom Lake for years, but she’d resisted until… Well, until the reasons for leaving the SGC had outweighed the reasons for staying. But even then, she hadn’t been away for long before the lure of Stargate Command had called her home.

  And that’s exactly what it had felt like, heading back into the mountain after her time at Area 51: coming home. As she walked into the cold brightness of Atlantis’s mess hall — was that even the right word here? — Sam wondered whether she would ever feel the same way about this city. She glanced around at the unfamiliar faces and repressed an unworthy pang of longing for home, for family and friends.

  Irritated with herself, she straightened her shoulders. She’d make new friends here; she had a new command, a new team, and an astonishing new opportunity. Another galaxy for crying out loud!

  With a determined stride, she headed to the counter to see what exotic Pegasus breakfast was on the menu.

  “Colonel Carter?”

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Colonel Carter, come in.”

  It took a moment to recognize that the voice was coming directly into her ear, via her headset, and a further moment to respond. “Carter here, go ahead.”

  “Colonel, we have an unauthorized gate activation. It’s Colonel Sheppard’s team.”

  Who weren’t due back for another twenty-two hours. Breakfast would have to wait. “On my way.”

  The world of Talaverna was one Teyla had heard spoken of many times, but had never had occasion to visit. The people were said to be ascetic, devoted to the veneration of the Ancestors, but known more widely among the galaxy’s traders for their production of a superior berrywine made with water taken from their sacred shrine.

  That had been inducement enough for John to agree to Rodney’s request to visit the planet, and neither Ronon nor Teyla had raised any objections. In fact, she hoped she might have time to do a little trading herself; Talaverna berrywine was truly exceptional.

  “So, uh, what do you think of her then?”

  Rodney wasn’t addressing his question to her. He was up ahead, next to John, while she and Ronon walked behind. The track through the forest was wide and, though muddy from recent rain, well maintained. Ahead, she could see smoke rising through the trees and knew they were approaching the settlement.

  “Think of who?” John said, which made Teyla smile; they all knew who Rodney was talking about.

  “Sam, of course. Colonel Carter. Who did you think I meant?”

  Teyla exchanged a weary look with Ronon. His first meeting with Atlantis’s new leader had not gone well, but relations between the two had warmed after that. Rodney, however, appeared obsessed with Colonel Carter’s arrival. He talked of little else.

  John shrugged off the question. “What do I think about Colonel Carter? I think she’s my new CO. I think she’s the leader of this expedition.” He cut a curious glance at Rodney. “Why? What do you think of her? You know her better than the rest of us.”

  Rodney scowled at the muddy track. “She’s not as brilliant as she’d have you believe, you know. I mean, yes, she’s smart. Obviously. But she’s not —” He swallowed the rest of his sentence, not that it concealed very much; Rodney was an open book.

  “Not as smart as you?” John finished for him. “Rodney, that’s — is that what this is about? You’re pissed she got the job because you think you’re smarter than her? Even for you, that’s petty.”

  “What do you mean even for me?”

  John cut off any further argument with a raised hand. They were approaching the edge of the settlement, a collection of simple wooden buildings gathered around a central square. “Now play nice,” he said. “We’ve got some hearts and minds to win.”

  The hearts and minds belonged to the village elders, three gray-haired men in equally gray robes. The settlement, this close to the Stargate, was used to traders and so their arrival provoked little more than idle curiosity among the men and women working nearby: a woman’s head lifted from grinding flour, a cluster of children watched them for a moment, then returned to drawing water from the well.

  Teyla smiled at the familiarity of what she saw and stepped forward in greeting, without waiting for John’s command. It had become habit now, the way their team worked together, unspoken and natural. “I am Teyla,” she said, “and these are my friends, John, Rodney and Ronon.”

  The first of the elders, and the stoutest, nodded. His eyes, as gray as his hair, were sharp. Traders’ eyes, Teyla thought: this was a man prepared to do business. “I am Elder Qafsiel. You are welcome in the peace of the Ancestors,” he said, with a formal bow of his head. His gaze touched each of them, then returned to Teyla. “You have come here to trade?”

  She allowed her smile to broaden. “If there is time, yes, I would welcome the opportunity. But our real interest is in the shrine of Talaverna.” She indicated Rodney. “My friend is an expert in such places and would like the opportunity to study it.”

  “None are permitted to enter the shrine without a Reverent,” Q
afsiel said, his sharp eyes switching to Rodney. “What manner of study do you wish to undertake?”

  “Ah, well, we think it might contain what I’d call a —”

  “We have heard that your shrine once took supplicants to dwell with the Ancestors,” Teyla interrupted, before Rodney said more than was wise. “We are eager to visit such a sacred place.”

  McKay snorted and she flung him a warning look. “Right,” he nodded, chastened. “Sacred. Very sacred, obviously.”

  Keeping her irritation hidden — men like Qafsiel could see everything — Teyla smiled a diplomat’s smile. “We would fully respect your wishes when entering the shrine,” she told them. “And we will touch nothing, if you request it.”

  “What?” Rodney, again. “Wait, I can’t —”

  “McKay,” John growled past his own smile.

  “But —”

  “Can it, Rodney!”

  Teyla turned back to Qafsiel. “If there are restricted areas, we will not enter them. But we would like to see as much as is possible.”

  One of the other elders, a taller man with hair past his ears, touched Qafsiel on the shoulder. They consulted in whispers for a moment, which Teyla hoped was a good sign, and then Qafsiel nodded and turned back to her. “You must be accompanied by a Reverent at all times,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  “And there will be a charge for each person. A Revenant’s time is valuable, you understand.”

  She didn’t miss the avaricious glint in his eye and simply said, “Naturally.”

  They were taken to wait in one of the wooden huts, which looked like it was mostly used for trading — a small table sat against one wall while berrywine in bottles and barrels lined another. Teyla sat on a narrow wooden bench and waited, Ronon did the same; they both seemed to understand, better than their Lantean friends, the value of resting while the opportunity presented itself.

  “You think they’d miss one of those bottles?” Ronon said.

  Teyla raised her eyebrows. “Yes, I think they would.”

  “Pity.”

  At the other end of the room, Rodney was pacing. “So we get a tour guide and an entrance ticket?” he groused. “What’s next, ‘exit through the gift shop?’”

  “I think this is the gift shop,” John said.

  “Be glad that you are gaining access at all,” Teyla told them. “I warned you that the Talavernan were protective of their shrine. They could have simply turned us away.”

  “I guess it’s lucky that they’re greedier than they are devout,” John said with a smile.

  She returned it, although did not agree out loud. “They are traders,” she reminded him. “This is Pegasus.”

  He shrugged in acknowledgment, and not long after that their guide — a slender man named Joqun, dressed in the white robes of a Reverent — arrived to take them to the shrine. It was a walk of about thirty minutes through the trees, although Teyla suspected that the Reverent was taking them on a more circuitous route than was necessary — either for dramatic impact or to confuse them so that they could not return unescorted.

  She glanced at Ronon as they walked, and he nodded. “I’ve got it.” There was nothing this priest could do to confuse a Runner’s sense of direction.

  At last they arrived at a cliff face, rising stark and unexpected from the forest. The stone was dark as iron, but a cave mouth opened in its face from which ran a narrow stream that sparkled in the sunlight: the source of the berrywine, no doubt. Around the cave’s entrance, the rock had been intricately carved, the sinuous design undoubtedly that of the Ancestors.

  Reverent Joqun stopped. “Within, is the shrine,” he said in a voice pitched so low they had to gather close to hear him. Teyla wondered if it was an affectation, or simply a product of his reverence for this place. “The shrine tests our worth,” Joqun said. “Only those who are worthy of the Ancestors are chosen to dwell with them.”

  “Chosen how?” Ronon said.

  “At their coming of age, each supplicant must walk through the sacred arch — those deemed worthy leave this place to dwell forever with the Ancestors.”

  “And those who aren’t that lucky?” John said.

  The Reverent spread his hands. “We return to our lives, blessed but not chosen.” His expression was resigned. “In the past many people were deemed worthy and left Talaverna, never to return. But it has been generations since any have been so honored.” His expression tightened. “I believe the Ancestors do not approve of the berrywine and the trade it brings, but the Elders do not listen.”

  “Ha!” Rodney shook his head. “I bet they don’t. And, actually, it’s more likely to be a fault with —”

  “How must we prepare to enter the shrine?” Teyla said, cutting him off.

  Reverent Joqun looked from her to her friends and back again. “The measure of your lives is the only preparation required,” he said. “The Ancestors see all.”

  John shifted his hold on his weapon. “Well, I don’t think I’m going anywhere.”

  Teyla smiled, but only said, “Reverent, will you lead the way?”

  With a nod, he did so and they all followed: Teyla first, then John and Rodney, with Ronon guarding their backs.

  Inside, the cave was lit by large candles placed on the floor. She glimpsed more designs carved into the wall and at the far end an archway rose up out of the rocky floor, words in the language of the Ancestors engraved along its arc. In the candlelight, everything glimmered, light dancing off the damp stone walls and the smooth lines of the Ancestors’ inscriptions. It truly felt like a sacred place.

  “Cool,” John said, his voice low.

  “It is most impressive,” she agreed.

  From the back, Ronon growled, “Low ceiling.”

  Rodney made his way closer to the arch, his scanner out. “Okay, this is interesting,” he said. “I’m getting some —”

  Without warning, the arch lit up and Joqun stumbled back, so shocked he almost fell. “Ancestors’ mercy!”

  Teyla grabbed his arm, keeping him on his feet. “This does not always happen?”

  “Never. Never in my lifetime.”

  She glanced at John and he nodded: the archway had probably been activated by Rodney’s ATA gene.

  “Fascinating,” Rodney said, glancing from his scanner to the arch as he pushed his way forward.

  John followed. “Careful…”

  “Yes, yes. But this is actually very interesting. You see, I’m picking up —”

  The archway flared, a brilliant white light filling the space beneath it and engulfing Rodney.

  “McKay! Don’t —” John grabbed for him, reaching into the light, and then the cave went dark.

  They were both gone.

  “Gone?” Sam said, looking from Teyla to Ronon where they were sitting opposite her desk. “Gone where?”

  “Reverent Joqun,” Teyla said, “believes they have been taken to dwell with the Ancestors.”

  “They were beamed away,” Ronon said, voicing what Sam already suspected. “It was some kind of transporter.”

  “You tried raising them over the radio?”

  “There was no response.” The tight expression of concern in Teyla’s eyes belied her calm voice. Sam recognized the dichotomy all too well; she knew what it was like to lose friends like this. Teyla folded her hands in her lap, her fingers twisting tight. “They could be anywhere.”

  Sam shook her head. “They can’t be too far. Even Ancient transporters only have a limited range.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ronon said, “if we can’t find them.”

  After her initial run-in with Ronon, Sam was wary of openly contradicting him. Nevertheless… “The point is, it narrows the search area,” she said, and turned her attention t
o Major Lorne who was standing at her office door. “Major, I need someone to take a puddle jumper through the gate and do a scan of the whole planet.” She paused, and then added, “If this planet has a moon — or moons — scan those too.”

  “Moons?”

  She gave a wry smile. “Just a hunch.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and turned to leave.

  Once he’d closed the door behind him, she turned to Teyla. “I need to take a look at that shrine.”

  “You, Colonel?” For all her diplomatic skills, Teyla couldn’t — or, at least, didn’t — hide her surprise.

  “I have some experience of Ancient technology,” Sam reminded her. “If it is Ancient technology…”

  Teyla shared a glance with Ronon — a glance which reminded Sam exactly how much of an outsider she was on Atlantis. “But is it wise for you to put yourself at risk, Colonel?” Teyla said. “Dr. Weir didn’t —”

  “Dr. Weir wasn’t an Air Force officer.” Sam kept her voice light, but she knew she had to stamp down hard on this kind of challenge. “Neither was she an expert in Ancient technology with ten years’ frontline experience off-world.”

  Teyla inclined her head, acknowledging the point. “Our own Dr. Zelenka is also an expert in Ancient technology, and familiar with the idiosyncrasies of the Pegasus galaxy.”

  Sam let silence fill the room for a long moment, leaned back in her chair and regarded Teyla and Ronon. Neither of them was Air Force. Heck, neither of them was even from her galaxy. She had a lot to prove here. “Look, I know what it’s like to lose a teammate,” she said at last. “I know what it’s like to spend days — months, even — out of your mind with worry, working to get them home. And I know it might not feel like it to you right now, but Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay are my people too — just like they were Dr. Weir’s. And I can bring them home.” She allowed a brief smile. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this.”