STARGATE UNIVERSE: Air (14 page)

“You need to start giving us some answers,” he demanded.

Scott slung his rifle and called out. “Can I have everybody’s attention? Please, be quiet!” When that didn’t work, he snapped out a shout. “
Hey
! Listen up!”

That got him about a second of actual calm before Armstrong felt the need to fill the silence. “What is going on?” The man’s words were a little gaspy; he was practically hyperventilating.

Scott figured he wouldn’t sugar-coat it. “We’re on an Ancient spaceship. That’s all I’ve got.” A murmur went through the crowd as they processed this new piece of information. “What that means is—”

Armstrong butted in. “It means that we need to use the Stargate to get us all home!”

Scott raised his hand. “That is definitely on the list of things to do, sir, but—”

The senator wasn’t listening. “You can consider that an order, Lieutenant!”

He could feel the mood of the evacuees turning angry and fearful behind Armstrong’s lead. “Colonel Young put me in charge—”

“Then do your job and get these people back to Stargate Command right now!” snapped the senator.

“We’re working on it.” Scott’s cool fractured. “But do you see a DHD anywhere?” He gestured around angrily.

“A what?” snapped Armstrong.

“Dial Home Device,” offered Tamara. “Runs the Stargates.” There were a couple of copper-colored consoles lurking at the back of the room, but nothing that resembled the usual dialing podium.

Armstrong changed tack. “I want to speak to whomever is responsible for this. Where is Doctor Rush?” The politician’s face was coloring, his voice rising. “He sent us here! This is his fault!”

Scott’s patience was about done. “Just shut up for a second, will you?”

Armstrong’s nostrils flared with anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that—” He choked off the end of the sentence and coughed hard, one hand reaching up to clutch at his chest. He dove into a pocket and came back with a pill bottle, tapping a red and white capsule into a shaky hand.

Scott’s annoyance subsided and he pulled his canteen from his belt, offering it to the other man. Armstrong waved it away and took the pill dry, swallowing it with effort.

His daughter came to him, taking his arm. “Dad, please…” she began, leading away to a place where he could sit down.

 The lieutenant took a breath. “Look, I’m sorry,” he began again. “I’m trying to explain the situation. We are on a ship but we have no idea where we are in relation to Earth.”
Or anywhere else, for that matter.
He fixed Armstrong with a firm look. “With all due respect, sir, the reason you may be having a hard time breathing right now is because the ship’s life support system is not functioning properly.”

That piece of information finally got Scott the quiet he’d been wanting all along. He nodded in the direction of the corridor. “Doctor Rush is working on that problem right now, but I need everyone with any knowledge of Ancient systems. We need all the help we can muster.” He scanned the faces in front of him. “Adam Brody and Lisa Park, are you here?”

Two people gingerly raised their arms. One was a guy in his forties, the other a woman with shoulder-length hair. Both had the look of career academics about them, and both were clearly way out of their depth in the current situation.

 “Okay, you two come with me.”

Brody hesitated, indicating one of the nearby panels. “These consoles just came on, shouldn’t we—”

Scott shook his head. “Nobody touch anything yet. Right now, Rush needs your help.” He saw Sergeant Greer standing nearby and gave him a look. Greer didn’t need to be told and just nodded, gathering up his weapon. “Everybody else, just stay calm, and stay put. Please.”

Tamara spoke close to his ear. “I’ll try to make sure no one else wanders off, but I’m swamped down here.”

“I know.” Scott saw Young where he lay on the floor. “What about—?”

She answered his question before he could finish it. “The colonel’s still out.”

“Keep me posted,” he told her, and stepped away, with the Marine and the two scientists following on behind.

Greer insisted on taking point even though the lieutenant explained he’d already checked out the corridors. It never hurt to have a set of Marine Corp eyes look over things, just to be sure. Park and Brody talked amongst themselves, half excited by what the saw all around them, and half terrified.

Scott pointed. “It’s just up this way.” Greer threw the officer a look and Scott’s brow furrowed. “What? You got something on your mind, sergeant?”

He shrugged. “I was thinking. You just told a United States senator to quit his bitching back there. I guess you’re not in a hurry to get those captain’s bars.”

Scott made a face. “Ah, who cares if he puts me on report,” he said, after a moment. “Joke’s on him. We’re probably all gonna die out here anyhow.”

Greer gave a gallows-humor smirk. “And here was me thinking you were a ray of sunshine, sir.”

Scott had a retort, but he forgot it as the sound of raised voices filtered down the corridor toward them.

“That’s Doctor Rush,” said Park.

Then Greer very clearly heard the Wallace kid say “Stop! You’re going to kill us all!”

“Ah hell,” said Scott, “what now?”

They broke into a run and raced down the length of the corridor, turning into a hexagonal-shaped room with a complex thicket of cables, tubes and conduits snaking up from the center, rising from floor to ceiling like a ragged pillar. Angled consoles like those in the gate room were arranged around it, and Rush stood behind one of them, his face back-lit by the glow of an active screen.

“What’s going on?” Greer demanded. He saw lines of blocky lettering — Ancient text, it looked like — streaming across the display. Rush was working a circular interface pad, like a scaled-up version of the one on the front of an mp3 player.

“The life support system is on,” said Rush, “but for some reason it’s not working properly. The atmosphere is too thin, we can all feel it.” Greer couldn’t argue with that. He had a headache that just wouldn’t quit. “I’m attempting to reset the system.”

Which all sounded reasonable enough. But Wallace wasn’t buying any of it, shaking his head, pointing at Rush. “He has no idea what he’s doing.”

Greer did not like Rush, not even a little. The man was unfriendly, arrogant and clearly convinced of his own superiority. The Marine had heard all about him from the other jarheads on duty in Icarus, as well as seeing the man’s behavior for himself once or twice. And like Armstrong had said, none of them would have been in this mess if Rush had just let Riley dial Earth. By now they could have been in Colorado, with a cup of coffee and a debrief instead of waiting to choke to death.

He raised his G36. “Step away from that thing,” he said.

Rush paid no attention to the Marine and ran his hands over the control pad, locking in commands one after another. He reached for the interface disc.

“That screen says what you’re doing is going to overload it!” Eli snapped.

Rush gave the kid a pitying look. “Eli, please. Don’t interfere with what you don’t understand.”

“Is that what it says or not?” insisted Wallace.

The scientist glanced up as Park and Brody appeared at the doorway, and looked at them as if expecting support. When he didn’t get it, Rush’s manner turned stormy. “Eli, you only
think
you know what this screen says because we embedded a rudimentary version of the Ancient language into that game you played.” He tapped the console angrily. “
This
is not a game! This is life and death!”

“Don’t touch it, Rush,” said Scott. From the corner of his eye, Greer could see the lieutenant also had his hand on his weapon. Greer started thinking about where he could put a round into Rush that would knock him down but not kill him.

“Oh, for the…” Rush’s hands tightened in annoyance. “Listen to me. When oxygen levels aboard this ship fall below a critical level, it will become increasingly hard to concentrate! We have to do this now!”

“What you’re doing could blow the whole ship,” insisted Eli.

“Are you sure of that?” said Scott.

“No!” snapped Eli. “But I don’t think he is either!”

Greer saw a flicker of doubt in Rush’s eyes and he knew immediately that the kid was right. The scientist was taking a big risk with all their lives. He gestured with the barrel of the rifle. “Back off now, or I will shoot!”

“No,” said Rush.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Lower your weapon, sergeant,” said Scott.

Greer’s hand stiffened around the grip of the G36. “He’s already screwed us once. I’m not going to let him do it again.”

Scott hesitated, his gaze shifting from Rush to Eli and then back again.

Rush was stock still now, his hand hovering over the console’s interface wheel. “I am going to press this button,” he said, calmly and firmly, taking on a lecturing tone. “It is going to fix life support and then we’ll all be able to breathe much better and think more clearly. You can shoot me for it if you want, but if, however, there
are
any negative consequences to resetting the system, I suggest you might still need me to help resolve them.”

Eli threw up his hands, and Scott knew this was on him now. He spoke directly to Greer. “I know we’re in a tough situation, Sergeant, but I am giving you an order.” He took a breath. “Hold your fire.”

There was a moment when he thought that Greer might just go ahead and put a bullet in Rush anyway, but then the Marine relaxed and let the G36’s muzzle drop, his thumb flicking the safety catch.

Rush didn’t want for him to change his mind, and stabbed the control key. The room went silent, and Scott found himself holding his breath. After a couple of long seconds, he glanced up at one of the air vents in the ceiling. There was no sound of fans turning, no rattle of the grilles. “So?”

The scientist’s shoulders sagged and he glared at the readouts on the console. “I suppose that would have been too easy,” he muttered to himself. “At least I didn’t get shot for it.”

Eli looked up. “Apparently, that did nothing.”

Scott turned and beckoned Brody and Park into the room. “Okay, show’s over. Get in here and make yourselves useful.”

“I don’t need any help—” began Rush, as the other two scientists moved to study the consoles before them.

Scott indicated the silent air vents. “Clearly, Doctor, you do. Just get it done.” The tension in the moment and the lack of oxygen was getting to him. He rubbed his eyes and stepped away into the corridor. Out here, the air tasted worse, all tinny and metallic. He spoke into his radio. “Gate room? Scott here.”

Tamara held her walkie to her ear. “Go ahead.” The lack of airflow already made it clear that whatever was supposed to be working, wasn’t, but she tried to keep the weariness from her voice.

“
This may take a little more time, T.J.,
” he told her. “
Just hang in there.
”

She wanted to ask him exactly how the hell she was supposed to do that, but instead she just nodded to herself and said “Copy that.”

Tamara clipped the radio back on her gear vest and gave a shallow sigh. All around her, the Icarus evacuees were sitting down on the deck, not moving or talking, trying to conserve what oxygen they still had. She felt the energy draining from her, moment by moment, and silently cursed whatever fate it was that had dragged her into this situation.
Tamara Johansen had plans
, she told herself,
and who was it that got to say she couldn’t fulfill them?
A flare of resentment flickered inside her, but it had nowhere to go, and it guttered out just as quickly.

She looked to where Young was lying. He was probably going to sleep through it all, she reflected, never once wake to know what outcome would befall them. From the corner of her eye she saw another face she knew, all distressed dark hair and anxious eyes. Camile Wray, the IOA’s human resources liaison at Icarus.
Former liaison
, she corrected.

The last time she’d seen the woman was in her office. Tamara remembered it clearly, standing in front of her desk, the letter of resignation and all the attendant paperwork in a neat pile under Camile’s elegantly manicured fingers.

Wray hadn’t even bothered to read the letter, instead asking “Does Colonel Young know about this?”

“He knows.” Tamara didn’t waste time with specifics. She thought that would be it. Forms signed, paperwork done. A rubber stamp in the right place and it would all be over.

But Wray wouldn’t drop it. “Are you sure I can’t change your mind?”

“No,” she’d insisted. “This is something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.” It almost sounded like she meant it.

“Two weeks ago you told me you would be re-enlisting,” Wray went on. “You said this was the best experience of your life.” The woman had leaned forward and given her a hard look. “Something has to have happened.”

Tamara had replied with the answer she rehearsed. “The scholarship came through. I guess I’ve just been too afraid to admit what I really want. Afraid I’d fail if I tried.” Wray didn’t call her a liar, but her expression had said it plainly. “Come on, Camile,” she said. “I know better than to try and hide anything from you.”

Wray gave a small smile at that. “You didn’t even tell me you had applied.”

Tamara Johansen had plans
, said the voice in her head. “There’s nothing else going on. You know I’d tell you.”

“Unless you were protecting someone.”

“I’m not,” she’d insisted. “Like I said, I guess I hadn’t made up my mind.”

And that was where she’d ended it, walking out of the office, the choice written there on the papers, in black and white.

But all that happened before some force bigger than her had snatched the wheel of her life from Tamara’s hands and wrenched it hard over, off the road she chose and on to this path.

She blinked away the moment of reverie, and snapped back to the present. Tamara watched the colonel there on the floor, his chest rising and falling, rising and falling.

Eli snuck a look across the room at Rush, past the tower of control interface systems, but the scientist didn’t seem to notice. He felt pretty guilty, actually, considering what he had thought to be a difference of opinion had turned into a situation where his big mouth would have resulted in Rush catching a bullet.