STARGATE ATLANTIS: The Furies (Book 4 in the Legacy series) (34 page)

“Colonel Sheppard?” His headset crackled, and John flailed around for it, finding it on the floor in one of his shoes.

“Yes?”

It was Airman Salawi, but for a change she didn’t sound stressed out. “Dr. Kusanagi has the watch, and she told me to radio you since Teyla was in the infirmary having a procedure. Kanaan’s brought Torren back, and somebody needs to come to the gateroom and get him.”

“Right,” John said, scrubbing his hand over his unshaven chin. He’d been having a good day for about two minutes there. He wasn’t looking forward to having a conversation with Kanaan. But he couldn’t leave Torren stuck in the gateroom either. “I’m on my way,” he said.

Kanaan was talking to Kusanagi down on the floor by the gate, a couple of big boxes at his feet that John figured were the trade goods for the Athosians on their way back in exchange for the week’s milk, Torren on his shoulder.

The sunlight through the stained glass made bright patterns across the floor, and Torren lifted his arms, fascinated by how the golden stripes rendered his hands yellow when he touched them. He twisted around abruptly when he saw John.

Kusanagi’s eyes went wide. “I am very busy now,” she said. “It was so nice to see you.” She fled back up the steps to the control boards.

Crap, John thought, but kept his tone studiously nonchalant as he reached for Torren. “Hey, buddy.”

Kanaan glanced over him, unshaved face and yesterday’s uniform. “Dr. Kusanagi said Teyla was in the infirmary. Is she ill?”

“No, she’s just having a procedure done,” John said. None of the Athosians knew about Teyla’s Wraith disguise, and she’d probably want it kept that way. It was hers to tell or not as she chose, not his. “She’s fine. Dr. Keller’s working on one of her teeth.” Which was true. The dental cap that had come off was on one of her teeth.

“Oh.” A bunch of the Athosians had had dental work done at one time or another, so it was an unremarkable reason. Kanaan looked him over again, a thoughtful expression on his face. He put the flat of his hand to Torren’s cheek. “I will see you soon, Torren. Be well and whole.”

“Bye-bye, Papa,” Torren said cheerily. “Bye-bye soon.”

“Yes, I will see you soon.” Kanaan turned to pick up the boxes. “Tell Teyla I hope she is well.”

“I will,” John said, and looked up at Salawi at the board above. “Airman, dial New Athos.”

Maybe it was that John was getting used to it, so much so that he didn’t even think about it. Which said something pretty scary, actually, if you thought about it too hard, which he tried not to.

Or maybe it was that he was thrown by the whole thing with Kanaan in the gateroom and wasn’t thinking at all.

In any event, John walked into the infirmary with Torren on his shoulder, not even thinking that Teyla would be in full Wraith drag, not even considering whether or not she wanted Torren to see her like that.

Jennifer was holding a mirror for her as she sat up on the edge of one of the beds, looking at the reapplied dental cap, her lips bared in a fanged grimace like something out of a nightmare. What could be scarier for a little kid than to see their mom transformed into the most frightening thing they could think of? This was worse than all the Wicked Witches of the West, all the bogeymen and chainsaw wielding freaks of John’s childhood, because these monsters were real. Even though he probably hadn’t heard that story yet, one day before long Torren would hear about his half brother, Kanaan’s son who had been fed on by the Wraith when he was eight years old.

Teyla looked up, and in her expression of absolute horror John saw it all. She had never wanted Torren to see her this way, had no idea Kanaan was returning him today. She would never want this. Never.

And it was too late. John was already ten steps inside the door, Torren on his shoulder facing forwards. He’d already seen. Even if John stopped dead in his tracks, even if he turned around and sprinted for the door, it was too late.

Torren’s forehead wrinkled, his face screwing up.

“Torren,” Teyla began in a low voice.

“Mama!” Torren stretched out his arms, his face clearing as he recognized her, breaking into a wide grin. “Mama!” He nearly lunged out of John’s grasp. John managed to put him down in time, flailing feet and all, and Torren dashed across the infirmary floor to plow into Teyla’s knees as she slid off the bed.

“Torren.” She went down on the floor beside him, her arms going around him as she clasped him tight.

“I gots frogs,” Torren said happily, burrowing into Teyla’s neck. “Papa said I could have them. So I gots them.”

“Oh, good,” Teyla said, burying her face in Torren.

“I’m sorry,” John said belatedly. “I didn’t think.”

Teyla pulled her head back, looking at Torren’s face beneath his mop of dark hair. “Torren, I don’t want to scare you.”

“Why be scared?” Torren said, his expression a study in perplexity. “It’s you.”

“General O’Neill, if you’ll stay for a moment?”

Jack paused, letting the other officers file out of the Oval Office ahead of him. When the President politely asked you to stay it wasn’t a request. “Of course, sir.”

The President waited until the last one pulled the door shut behind him, then leaned back against the edge of his desk, his tall, lanky form and deep voice somehow incongruous together. “How does Richard Woolsey like his assignment?” he asked.

“I think he’s pleased to be back in Atlantis, sir,” Jack said neutrally, wondering what was coming. Surely nobody could have any complaints yet! Woolsey had been gone only two days.

The President read his body language. “No crisis, Jack,” he said. “Just something I want you to start chewing on.”

“What’s that, Mr. President?”

“Disclosure.”

Jack’s mouth tightened, his cover under his arm. “Has there been another incident?”

“No.” The President unfastened his starched left cuff and began to carefully roll his sleeve up in precise creases. “But there will be.”

“Pardon?”

“How many people have been involved with the Stargate program in the last fifteen years? With the starships, or with the 302s? Counting support positions.”

“I couldn’t tell you exactly, sir,” Jack said. “I’d have to get that number for you.”

“Would you say 10,000 is in the ballpark?”

“Probably, yes,” Jack said slowly.

“And how many abroad, counting the IOA, the staff and military personnel of allied nations, and of course the technical people who worked or are working on the
Korolev
, the
Sun Tzu
, the
Austerlitz
, or the still unnamed Indian vessel? Another 5,000?”

“At least,” Jack said reluctantly.

The President unfastened his right cuff equally carefully. “There’s no such thing as a secret that can be kept by 15,000 people. And that number is growing every day.”

“We’ve had disclosure issues before.” Jack frowned.

“Yes. But there’s a big difference between one reporter on the scent, or a drunk soldier who tells his buddies about his tour of duty on an alien planet, and 15,000 people. Scientists, soldiers, doctors, politicians, psychologists, archaeologists and anthropologists, pilots…” The President spread his hands. “They’re not all nuts. This is going to come out. Even if we closed it all down tomorrow.” He saw Jack jerk, and raised a pacifying hand. “Not that we’re going to. Not that we can. Ten or twelve years ago that might have been possible. But it isn’t anymore. This is going to come out, the whole thing, sooner or later.”

“If it does,” Jack said slowly, trying to marshal his thoughts.

“When it does, it will change our society as profoundly as the Renaissance, or the discovery of the New World. It will alter our world forever. It will topple governments and scramble religions, create conflicts we can’t even imagine yet. The era of integration of our world into a galactic society will make globalization look like a walk in the park. We will see brand new criteria for oppression, brand new reasons for violence, and the probable displacement of millions of people. It will redefine science, and challenge the beliefs of every human being on Earth.” The President leaned back on the edge of his desk. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot.”

“We’re not ready for that kind of thing,” Jack said. “We’ve already got two wars…”

“We’re not,” the President agreed. “And my predecessors made the call to keep it secret. But that’s not going to hold forever. So we have to get out in front of it. We have to start thinking about what we want. About how we want this to play out. We have to identify some best-case scenarios and think about how to get there. The worst choice is to just let it happen, however and whenever it does.”

Jack let out a long breath.

“I want you to start thinking about this. I want you to put together some scenarios,” the President said.

“Sir, that’s not me.” The words left his mouth before Jack was even aware they were there. The President’s eyebrows rose. “I’m not the guy you need on this.”

His eyebrows rose higher, if that was possible. “Then give me a name,” the President said mildly.

“Dr. Daniel Jackson.”

For a moment the President sat thoughtfully, mulling it over. “Who would have been Woolsey’s replacement? I’ve heard he’s shrewd. And he has credibility with the international community.”

“He’s a good man,” Jack said, meaning it as a generic endorsement.

The President smiled. “Is he? Well, that’s probably the most important qualification.”

“Yeah.” Jack smiled ruefully. “They used to call him my conscience.”

“Ok.” The President got up. “Put him on it. Get back to me in a couple of months with some thoughts. I don’t expect quick answers or easy ones. But it’s time to start talking about this.” He took a few steps toward the door and Jack followed. “We need to approach this methodically and carefully. The last thing we want is to be putting it together on the fly when something happens.”

“Yes, Mr. President,” Jack said. It was how they’d always done things, but maybe that hadn’t always worked as well as it might have. And Daniel ought to love this.

Teyla
stood by the Stargate. Above, the duty crew on control were trying to not stare at her. She did look impressive, in a very Wraith way. And yet perhaps Teyla would not take the stares for anything so friendly.

Radek put his hands in the pockets of his rumpled pants and shrugged. “It is just that it is another mission,” he said. He gave her a sideways glance, a twist of humor to his mouth. “And perhaps that you are hot.”

She laughed as he had hoped she would, turning about, her boot heels loud on the polished floor.

“We will see you soon,” Radek said seriously. “We will get Rodney back, and then I can get out of the field.”

“Yes,” she said.

“Believe me,” said Radek. “No one is more motivated than I to get out of the field.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Though if it does not go as planned and John…” He broke off and shook his head. “I do not know what will happen. If Rodney…”

Teyla regarded him with a Wraith’s golden eyes. “If it comes to that, John will do what he needs to do.” Teyla raised her chin, her voice low. “Though it will not come to that, Radek.”

“You do not know that,” Radek said.

“If it is necessary, I will do it,” Teyla said evenly, her eyes on his face. “He will forgive me when he will not forgive himself.”

Radek swallowed. He wasn’t sure he trusted himself to speak. And so he squeezed her shoulder instead, black silk slick as water under his hand.

Woolsey came down the stairs, rubbing his palms against his pants legs. “It’s time,” he said.

Blue fire kindled and the gate quickened, the honor guard standing well back of its opening. The surface rippled and a small figure stepped through, her black skirts billowing above tight-laced ankle boots.

Sable, Commander of the Honor Guard, went to one knee, his head bent. “My Queen,” he said, a frisson running through him as he felt her mind sweep over him, clear and bright as a beacon beam turning through the night sky, calling the darts home to their cradles.

*Sable,* Queen Steelflower said, her eyes passing over those assembled. *Yarrow and Swiftripen, Elude and Gamester, clevermen and blades all. The best men.*

He rose at her touch, the perfume of her skirts brushing his face. “Your shuttlecraft is ready, My Queen.”

“I have walked a strange road, my men,” she said aloud, her eyes touching each in turn, bright as stars. “And you shall walk a stranger one still with me, perhaps. If any among you dare it.”

“We are all your daring men,” Swiftripen said eagerly. “And it is our honor to follow where our queen bids us.”

Her eyes rested upon him like a caress upon his face. “I believe you are daring,” Steelflower said, “and true as well. Sit with me on the shuttle, and we will speak further.”

Gamester rolled his eyes behind Swiftripen’s back, and Sable grimaced. How like Swift to manage to gather the queen’s attention first! And now he would sit with her on the shuttle, a signal honor. Perhaps he would even be her first concubine.

“If you will come this way, My Queen,” he said, bending low again.

“Of course.”

Surrounded by her blades, Queen Steelflower went aboard her shuttlecraft, a fragile seeming figure among two tens of men.

The Consort was in the dart bay, of course. He went to one knee stiffly, but then Guide was not young enough for grace. “My Queen,” he said, and his voice was warm.

“My dear Guide,” she said, and the caress in her voice was enough to send shivers down Sable’s spine. All was as it should be. They were not queenless men, renegades with no hope for tomorrow. They served Steelflower and in her bright orbit were made whole.

“The ship is primed,” Guide said, “and all the company is at your disposal. Will you walk its paths with me?”