Sally Malcolm

StarGate: Atlantis

Rising

Prologue

The ice was encroaching. At the frozen edge of a world that had become their graveyard, a vast and hungry wilderness was invading the last vestiges of their civilization — Atlantis, their crowning glory.

It was more than a city: it was their past and their future. It would take them from this desolation to a place of hope, far beyond the stars that glittered in the icy night sky.

And yet the leaving tasted bitter. New hope required the sacrifice of past dreams, of generations who would never know the perfect beauty of a sunrise over the forests and oceans of Earth. Generations who would never know their true home.

Cyla Urbanus looked at her companion as above them the final ship returned. Now was the time, the closing moments when all had to end. She held his eye; he was torn, at the last, over what he needed to do. But he did not hesitate in his duty, and she turned to watch as a tremor shook the city.

Separation took mere moments. The star drive activated and Atlantis broke free from the icy fist that held it prisoner and rose from its base embedded deep in the rock.

In the fading light Cyla could just make out the small energy dome below, protecting the tiny outpost they were leaving behind. A beacon for the future, she thought. A beacon to guide those who come after. But soon its light was lost beneath the snow that blew in waves across the barren planes that had once been their home.

Will they follow, those that come after? Will they follow where we lead?

To that question, she would never know the answer.

And so the snow blew, for millennia upon millennia. Continents shifted, compacted, retracted. Life came and went, myriad species evolved and among them humanity was reborn. Their birth heralded the arrival of gods from distant worlds, bent on tyranny and war. But the gods were defied; humanity's second evolution was strong and vibrant. And curious, ever curious. Eventually, millions of years after it had been abandoned, and at a time of great need, the beacon was discovered beneath the ice laid down over eons. But the question still remained… will they follow?

It was cold. No, cold was the wrong word. It was simply too small a word to adequately describe the razor-edged air that permeated even this far into the base. As the cage-elevator trundled down the borehole, through a mile of ancient ice, the temperature didn't even get close to anything as balmy as freezing.

Dr. Elizabeth Weir shivered and glanced at her traveling companion. Lieutenant Ford's uniform looked thick and warm. She rubbed her freezing hands together and wondered if he felt the cold. Catching her scrutiny, Ford raised a curious eyebrow but didn't say anything. She just smiled as, at that moment, the elevator came to a bumpy landing in the Outpost of the Ancients.

Amazing, Weir thought as she stepped out into the cave of ice, how easily that tripped off the tongue. Outpost of the Ancients. A couple of months back she'd never even seen Star Wars; now she was living it.

As usual, the base — her base — was in a state of controlled chaos. The excitement felt by everyone here was palpable, an electricity that bounced between a dozen brilliant minds, feeding off itself until the whole place buzzed with the thrill of discovery. Weir loved it down here; in this place she felt twice as alive as she'd ever been in her life. It was addictive too, if she left for just a-

"You see! Nothing!" The exclamation came in an exasperated Scottish brogue.

Of course, not everything was going smoothly.

Dr. Carson Beckett, their MD, who reminded Weir of nothing so much as a teddy bear, jumped out of the mysterious Ancient chair from which General Jack O'Neill had only recently defeated Anubis's attack on Earth. The doctor stormed toward her like a child refusing to do his homework, oblivious to everything around him.

On his heels was Dr. McKay, all indignant frustration. "Carson, get back here-"

Beckett turned on him. "I could sit in the chair all bloody day, and nothing would happen! It's a waste of time." He noticed Weir for the first time and moderated his tone. "Excuse me, Dr. Weir."

And then he was gone, leaving McKay stranded in his wake. He puffed out a sigh. "He's not even trying."

Weir glanced curiously between the two men. "But he's the one who discovered the gene that Ancient technology identifies and responds to."

"Yeah, well, he said he wished he didn't have it!"

"Really?"

"I know. Can you believe that?"

She smiled. The thing you had to remember about Dr. Rodney McKay was that, as far as he was concerned, the entire world — possibly the entire galaxy — conspired to frustrate him. Once you understood that, McKay was much easier to handle. Putty in her hands. "We could always test you a third time, Rod„ney.

"That's very funny."

She thought so too, but swallowed her smile. "The point is," she said, as they walked back toward the Ancient chair, "we've only found a handful of people who are genetically compatible with the technology of the Ancients, despite your efforts to interface it with our own…" She cast him a serious look. "We need every one of them to take their turn, including Dr. Beckett."

"What am I supposed to do? He's afraid of the thing."

Weir stepped onto the platform that accommodated the chair. It was huge, its curved alien design exuding power and threat. When she touched it, it felt slick and warm beneath her fingertips, despite the frigid air. "This chair controls the most powerful weapons known to man," she reminded him. "I'm afraid of the thing…" Which was hardly the point. "Every time someone sits in it we learn something more about the Ancients who built this outpost. That chair — and the weapons it controls — are essential to the defense of this planet. Dr. Beckett should be proud that he's genetically advanced-"

"It's not advancement," McKay corrected. "It's a random characteristic."

Stepping down from the platform, Weir repressed a chuckle. "It really bothers you, this gene thing."

"Clearly I am overcome with envy."

"Yet you hide it so well."

His undoubtedly snappy reply was forestalled by an excited call from the other side of the room. "You're just the people I need to see!" It was Dr. Daniel Jackson, deep in thought and brow furrowed. Before either of them had time to answer he had disappeared back the way he'd come, mumbling to himself.

Weir exchanged a glance with McKay; they'd both had some experience of Dr. Jackson's eccentricities. She was about to ask Rodney if he had a clue what Jackson had been talking about when the man himself returned.

Daniel looked at them for a moment, as if strug gling to remember why he was staring at them, then said, "Come with me."

Who could refuse an offer like that?

There were days, Daniel Jackson thought as he barreled through the busy corridors of the Ancient Outpost, when life really did seem too good to be true. The thrill of the intellectual chase, the overwhelming high of developing a theory and then proving it right, had driven him his whole academic life. Not to mention the fact that most scientists of any stripe made, if they were lucky, one momentous discovery in their entire career. His running total was now three, because this theory, this discovery, was on a par with the day he'd first deciphered the gate address for Abydos and proven all his detractors wrong. Or the day he'd stood alone beneath the pyramid of Ra and realized that the Stargate was part of a vast network of alien worlds, and that the galaxy had suddenly gotten a whole lot smaller, and a whole lot more crowded, than anyone on Earth could comprehend.

Today was just like that. Today was historic, literally.

Drs. Weir and McKay caught up with him as he ducked into his makeshift research lab, and Daniel realized he'd given them no explanation for his summons. Not that he felt the need to explain himself to McKay. Rodney had never been SGI's favorite person, not since the incident with Teal'c and the Stargate buffers. Jack O'Neill had never forgiven him for giving up on getting Teal'c back, and rumor had it that McKay had actually called Sam Carter a `dumb blond'. When Daniel had asked her about it, her only comment had involved McKay's citrus allergy and a lemon. He hadn't pursued it any further, partly because he thought Sam had warmed to McKay in the end. Why remained a mystery, and Daniel remained less than well disposed toward the man.

Elizabeth Weir, however, deserved his respect — and an explanation. "We've gotten closer and closer to finding the location of the lost city," he told her, as they entered the cluttered room he'd co-opted for his research.

He scooted around the table to the whiteboard where he'd been attempting to decipher the gate address — the one they couldn't make work — for the past three days. "But it turns out," he said, "that we've been looking in the wrong place all along."

Weir's eyebrows rose as she waited for more. McKay just cast him a look of long-suffering tedium, as if repressing the desire to snap `Get on with it!'

Daniel planned to wipe that look right off his face. Pointing at the symbols scribbled onto the white board, he said, "We thought we had a gate address — six symbols, representing coordinates in space and time that should have determined the location of the planet the Ancients went to after they left Antarctica. Recently we determined the seventh symbol." He drew it on the board.

"The point of origin," Weir guessed. "Earth."

"That's not it." Daniel shot a defiant look at McKay.

"So your address must be incorrect," McKay said, unable to resist the silent game of one-upmanship.

Daniel repressed a smile, savoring his triumph. "Not incorrect," he said. "Incomplete." Swiftly, he drew another symbol.

"You can't do that," McKay objected.

"I just did."

Weir stepped forward, and Daniel could see something burning bright in her eyes; he knew it was mirrored in his own. Excitement, the thrill of opening Pandora's box. "What are you saying, Dr. Jackson?"

He paused, just for an instant, just to relish the moment. "It's an eight-symbol address," he began. "What we've been looking for may be farther away than we ever imagined…" Weir was holding her breath, tense with expectation. Daniel smiled, "But not out of our reach."

Even McKay seemed reluctantly impressed. "Atlantis?"

"Atlantis." Daniel studied them both, making sure they comprehended the significance of what he was about to say. "And I think we can go there."

The silence that followed told him they understood. Humanity was poised to take its first steps into a new galaxy, and they — these people standing before him — were destined to be in the vanguard of the most important voyage of discovery mankind had ever undertaken.

He envied them more than he could say.

Chapter One

The snowfield went on forever. It was enough to render a penguin snow-blind, and General Jack O'Neill was more than grateful for his shades as the helicopter skimmed over the ridges and valleys of Antarctica. The sun had crested the horizon an hour ago, its pale light glittering against the snow. Carter would love it out here — not.

O'Neill glanced over at his pilot, who was talking a mile a minute and didn't seem to realize that Jack was only half-listening. He was a kid really, although with a stubborn streak that stood out a mile. Takes one to know one. Which was probably why the kid had ended up based at the backend of nowhere. Over the years, Jack had been threatened with McMurdo a few times. He wondered what Major John Sheppard had done to actually make it. Must get someone back at the SGC to check out his personnel file…

"…Cobra, Apache, Sea King, Black Hawk, Osprey, Sea Harrier," Sheppard reeled off, flying like he was born to it and not really needing to concentrate. "You name it, I've flown it."

"That's a lot of training for the Antarctic."

There was a wry twist to Sheppard's answer that Jack didn't miss. "Well, it was the one continent I'd never set foot on."

"It's among my least favorite continents." And that was no lie. Jack had been here a total of three times, and on each occasion he'd left on a stretcher — or the alien equivalent. He wasn't planning on making it a fourth.

"I kinda like it here," Sheppard admitted.

There was a determined cheerfulness about this kid that was, frankly, bizarre. "You like it here?"

Sheppard grinned. "Yessir." He glanced at his navigation controls, "We're about ten minutes out."

And with that, the helicopter banked steeply and left Jack's stomach way behind. It was all he could do to restrain a whoop of pure adrenaline and, not for the first time, he wondered what on Earth had persuaded him to trade all this for a desk job…

Despite what he'd told Dr. Weir, McKay was beginning to suspect that there was more to the distribution of the Ancient gene through the population than random genetic chance. In fact, he was almost certain that it was actually a facet of the ongoing cosmic joke fate liked to have at his expense. Think about it, of all the people on the base — no, let's not be modest — of all the people on the planet, he, Rodney McKay, was undoubtedly the best qualified to make use of the Ancient gene. He had the mind, the education, the ability to think creatively… If he'd had the gene their research would be leagues ahead of where they were currently stranded. He glanced over at Grodin, who was fiddling with one of the few Ancient drones to have survived the battle with Anubis. It was a case in point; if McKay had the gene he'd be able to pull the thing apart, figure out how to reproduce it and then begin restocking their weapons supplies. Easy as pie.

But no. Fate had other plans.

Instead of giving the gene to someone who could actually use it to unlock the secrets of the Ancients, on whom did it bestow this `random' gift? General Jack `Smart-ass' O'Neill, and now Dr. Carson `I'm scared it'll bite me' Beckett! Seriously, there was no way this could be random chance. The more he thought about it, the more McKay suspected that there was some malevolent cosmic force bent on frustrating him to death, and-

"I'm a doctor," Beckett protested, his whines interrupting McKay's thoughts as he physically dragged the doctor along the corridor. "A medical doctor!"

McKay strove to sound soothing. It wasn't a skill that came naturally. "There's nothing to be afraid of-"

"You don't understand." Beckett was pleading now, actually pleading. The man was beginning to border on pathetic. "I break things like this…"

Oh, for the love of "The device has survived intact for millions of years; it will survive you." Rodney shoved the doctor toward the chair. "Now sit down, close your eyes and concentrate."

With a resigned sigh Beckett did as he was told and leaned back in the chair. At last. But his eyes flashed open a split second later. "Again, nothing."

Patience, patience… Resisting the urge to pull the damn gene out of Beckett with a pair of tweezers, McKay forced himself to be reasonable. "All right, this time try to imagine an image of where we are in the solar system." Assuming, of course, that the good doctor actually knew where he was in the solar system…

"All right."

"All right."

There was a pause. McKay realized he was actually holding his breath.

"All right, I think I feel something."

Yes! "Good." Okay, this was going to work, it was going to work…

Beckett's eyes opened again. "It could be lunch related."

"Shut up and concentrate!"

Suddenly, the platform beneath the chair lit up like a Christmas tree. Thank you! McKay's mind was racing, searching for the best strategy. Who knew how long Beckett would be able to sustain the-

Behind him there was thump, a yell of surprise and he turned. The drone had come to life! Glowing pale gold, the lethal weapon abruptly launched itself from the workbench, scattering Grodin and his colleagues, darted in a wide circle toward the borehole and then disappeared up toward the surface. No one even had time to aim a gun.

Stunned, McKay could only stare in shock. Eyes wide, he looked at Beckett. "What did you do?"

Beckett stared back, terrified. "What did I do?"

Weir could feel the air getting colder as the elevator began its journey through the borehole to the surface, but this time it didn't bother her. She had other, more pressing things on her mind, the Pegasus galaxy being one of them… It was a romantic name, she thought, and appropriate for something that represented a dream for all the peoples of Earth. Not just a new world, but a new galaxy. A new realm into which mankind could expand, a place of hope for a future without the petty politics of a world trapped in a needless cycle of war, disease and poverty. It was beacon of hope, a voyage crewed by the best and the brightest from around the globe. And, most important of all, a mission of peace. They didn't go to conquer, there were no military objectives — they went simply to explore. They went because they could.

At least, she hoped they could. She tugged nervously on her jacket and glanced up the borehole. Somewhere, far above, General O'Neill was en route to the base, and the fate — the very existence — of her whole expedition to Pegasus depended upon her ability to convince him that it was worthwhile. That it was worth sacrificing the remaining power of Earth's only ZPM — the one device that stood between the planet and destruction by the Goa'uld.

At her side, Dr. Jackson was lost in thought. He was frowning, lips moving slightly in silent conversation with himself. Rehearsing his argument, perhaps? It was no secret that he'd been angling for a place on the expedition team, and Weir would have been more than happy — delighted, actually — to snap him up. But General O'Neill had nixed the idea at the outset, and he wasn't the type to be gainsaid. Not that this seemed to deter Daniel Jackson; in fact, Weir suspected that very little could deter him. "Dr. Jackson?" she asked, disturbing his contemplation.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think he'll say yes?"

His eyebrows lifted. "To using the ZPM? He might. He probably will."

Weir smiled. "And to allowing you to join the expedition?"

"I don't…" His intense blue eyes fixed on her suddenly and he took half a step closer. "Maybe if you could just impress upon him how much value I'd bring to-"

Something fast and bright shot past them, rattling the cage so hard Weir thought it would slip free of the cable and go crashing back down the shaft. The object raced up, smashed right through the roof of the dome above the borehole, and was gone.

"What the…?" said Dr. Jackson.

Weir knew; she'd seen the damn thing on the workbench just this morning. "Get us back down there!"

The elevator started to plummet.

"Doc, what's happening?" Lieutenant Alden Ford was the first to move, darting across the room and staring up the borehole — but the drone had gone. Far above, he could see a raw patch of bright blue sky and knew that their containment was well and truly breached.

"Without proper direction," Dr. McKay snapped, "the weapon could seek a target on its own."

Holy crap. Ford grabbed his radio. "This is Ford, I'm declaring an emergency!" And that was one hell of an understatement.

Major John Sheppard had always had 20/20 vision; lucky, given his choice of career. And so, when he saw a dot in the distance heading straight for them in a straight and purposeful flight pattern, he knew instantly that he'd clocked something. He was about to comment to the General when a burst of static squawked over his radio. An unfamiliar voice followed. "All inbound craft, we have a rogue drone that has the ability to seek targets."

A what?

"Land immediately," the order continued, "and shut down your engines, this is not a drill. I repeat…" The signal dissolved.

Sheppard's eyes were fixed on the approaching bandit. It almost looked golden, too small to be a fighter but what the hell was a rogue drone? And one able to seek targets? Normally a drone was the target. At his side, General O'Neill turned to look at him. He didn't seem worried, just resigned, and motioned for Sheppard to land.

"Too late!" Whatever the hell else a drone was, this one was definitely on their ass. "Hang on!"

He banked right, pulling hard gees, muscles bunching as he fought the stick for control. The drone missed by a hair's breadth, but came right around for another pass. He'd never seen anything move like this; liquid motion, faster than you could think. Had to be automated, but he'd never seen a missile target like this one.

"Break right!" O'Neill ordered, craning his neck to see the drone settle on their tail.

Sheppard was already on it and broke sharply left.

"I said right!"

The drone skimmed by again, turning for a third pass. "Yessir, I'm getting to that!" This time he banked hard right, and the drone screamed past them. But it wasn't going away, and he had no wingman to clear it off his ass.

Truth was, he had no idea how the hell he was gonna get them outta this one. He cursed silently and took the 'copter into a steep dive. What the hell were these people playing with out here…?

Weir sprinted through the lab to the Ancient chair. Beckett lay frozen in its embrace, like a startled rabbit caught by the full-beams of an oncoming truck. One of the base scientists — she recognized him as the British guy — Peter Grodin, was talking in a panicked stream of words to McKay. "I was sure we'd disarmed it-"

Beckett's pained voice interrupted. "I told you I was the wrong person-"

"That doesn't matter now." Daniel Jackson's years of experience with unexpected and inexplicable crises showed in the decisiveness of his tone. He wasn't flustered. "Do something."

"What?" Beckett pleaded. He was overwhelmed, and Weir couldn't blame him.

"Concentrate on shutting down that weapon before it hurts someone." It was the best she could offer, and it seemed to be enough.

Clearly terrified of what he'd done, Beckett closed his eyes and screwed up his face in concentration. Elizabeth Weir found herself holding her breath…

It was out there. Sheppard could feel it, like the eyes of a predator on his back. They were being hunted. By what he still had no idea, but that hardly mattered. Whatever the hell this thing was, it had its sights on his ass and nothing was going to get in its way.

Well, nothing but Major John Sheppard. Sophisticated it might be, but Sheppard had yet to encounter a machine that could out-fly him. There were some instincts that a missile could never have, strategies they couldn't plan for, calculations so far outside the box that no computer could understand them. Yeah, it would be a cold day in hell — or a warm one at McMurdo — before he was out maneuvered by a machine, however smart its programming.

Bravado was good, kept the adrenaline pumping hard. But it didn't change facts. "I can't see it."

He looked around, General O'Neill twisting in his seat to do the same. Suddenly, straight ahead, he saw it coming for them. A tiny dot of gold against the brilliance of the snowfield.

"Pull up!" O'Neill barked. The guy was the original backseat driver!

Sheppard decided to dive. He had a plan, one this tin can on their tail would never be able to calculate. Machines just weren't that crazy…

He was pushing it as hard as he dared, pitching the dive at the very limit of aerodynamic viability. This was no F-16… But the plunge was steep enough, the ice racing up to meet them as the drone pivoted midair and settled back on his six.

"How about now?" O'Neill suggested, remarkably languid given the circumstances. Sheppard figured the guy had seen some action before he became a deskjockey.

The fissures and black rocks of the snow field were painted stark in snapshot images as they all but fell toward the ground. Yeah, O'Neill might have a point. "Now's good," Sheppard decided. He yanked back hard on the stick and the 'copter's nose edged up with several inches at least to spare. Behind them the drone buried itself in the ice.

Yes! Only the need to keep both hands on the controls kept him from punching the air as he pulled up hard into a fast landing, right there on the ice. Eat that, you metallic piece of-

"Shut down the engine," O'Neill ordered.

He did, and the engine noise swiftly died. Outside, all was silent bar the wind whipping past the window. The wind never stopped blowing out here. "Sir," he asked, "what the hell was-?"

"Wait for it…" O'Neill didn't look triumphant; he was listening for the sound of the other shoe dropping.

Glancing around, Sheppard could see nothing but miles of blinding white snow. Surely there weren't more of these things? Beached on the ice with the engines cooling they'd be sitting ducks if- And then he saw it, to his right. The drone shot from the compacted ice as if it had been spat out; it wasn't even dented. Damn it! And it was coming right at them, its one beady eye fixed on their position.

He fumbled for his straps. "Get out!"

But it was coming too fast, they'd never get far enough away. He scrambled out the door and hit the snow, just in time to see the drone die mid-air. It simply stopped, its light fading as it fell onto the ice and skidded to a halt a couple of inches from General O'Neill's outstretched hand.

What the-? Sheppard stared; the damn thing wasn't a machine after all. It looked like some kind of squid!

For a long moment neither of them spoke. Eventually the snow felt cold enough to prompt Sheppard back into action. Who knew, there might be more of these things. He climbed back into the helicopter, O'Neill dropping into the co-pilot's chair with a resigned sigh.

"That was different," Sheppard observed, restarting the engines.

O'Neill cast him an unreadable look. "For me," he said wearily, "not so much."

Not for the first time that day, Sheppard realized he was seriously out of the loop.

Dr. Weir watched as Beckett's eyes flashed open. Everyone was staring at him, and he stared back for a breathless beat before saying, "I think I did it."

"Did what?" Daniel Jackson voiced the pertinent question, but Beckett didn't have time to answer before Lieutenant Ford's radio crackled into life. Ford listened intently for a moment, then smiled.

"Major Sheppard is reporting the drone appears to have been incapacitated. General O'Neill's helicopter is unharmed and on its way…" He listened again, then nodded. "Seven minutes out."

"Thank God." Weir couldn't begin to imagine the six kinds of hell she'd have had to pay if her people had been accidentally responsible for the death of the SGC's new commander — not to mention the world's greatest, if unsung, hero. Blowing out a sigh she gave a nod to her shell-shocked team and headed back toward her office. Just breathe, disaster averted.

But the doubts came crowding in anyway. If this kind of accident could happen here, in the relative safety of the base, what the hell might go wrong once they were alone on the far side of the universe?

General Jack O'Neill was impressed. It wasn't something that happened a lot, so when it did he tended to pay attention. The kid standing next to him, staring up at the shrinking speck of sky as they trundled through layers of ice in the cage-elevator, had impressed him. And not just with the fancy flying; there weren't many who could keep their heads in a situation like that. Fewer still who could shake off the completely inexplicable with a phlegmatic shrug and get right back down to business.

He liked this kid, and wondered again whom Sheppard had pissed off enough to draw a tour at McMurdo. He'd call Carter, get her to pull up his personnel file. Major Sheppard would be an asset to the SGC; in fact, since his promotion, SG-1 had been running a man light. Perhaps he'd just found their fourth?

"Sir?" Sheppard said, cutting through a silence that had held since they'd stepped into the elevator. "You should know that I don't have security clearance to come down here."

O'Neill repressed a smile. Of course, Sheppard hadn't mentioned that until they were almost at the bottom. He liked how this kid thought; it reminded him of himself. Jack cast him a quick look. "After that?" In his book, nearly getting your ass blown off by an alien missile entitled a guy to certain privileges. "You do now."

Which was, no doubt, exactly what Sheppard had been counting on. Yeah, Jack liked this kid. He'd be an asset to the SGC…

At last the elevator clunked to a halt at the bottom of the borehole. Sheppard spared a final glance up at the sky, and followed O'Neill out of the elevator.

Daniel was there waiting, almost bouncing with impatience. "Jack!"

"Daniel," Jack replied, taking in the raw ice walls; interior design by Polar Bears `R' Us. "Warm welcome.

"Wasn't me," Daniel assured him, because nine times out of ten it was him causing alien technology to go crazy. He headed off immediately through the busy base. "So, how did you manage to-?"

"Not get our asses blown out of the sky?" Jack nodded toward Sheppard, who was straggling behind and trying to look at absolutely everything at once. "The exceptional flying of Major John Sheppard." He cast Daniel a wry look. "He likes it here."

"Exceptional," Daniel repeated, apparently stunned by Jack's unusually lavish praise. "That's…" Then his eyebrows rose, and he glanced at Sheppard with some disbelief. "You like it here?"

Interrupting the inevitable to-and-fro, because he actually didn't like it here, Jack snapped, "What say we cut to the part where you start talking a mile a minute?" And I can get back to someplace warmer

"Sure," Daniel nodded, heading off with blithe faith that Jack would follow. "Weir's in here…"

Jack hesitated a moment before turning back to Sheppard, who was still staring like a kid in a candy store. "Just… don't touch anything."

The major nodded. "Yessir."

Satisfied — almost — that Sheppard would do as he was told, Jack followed Daniel. His friend was after something, that much had been clear during the phone call yesterday. Daniel hadn't spelled it out, had insisted Jack come here in person to make the decision, which only fuelled Jack's suspicions. Whatever the hell Daniel wanted, it was big. And it was something Daniel knew Jack wouldn't want to give up… He could think of two things that fulfilled that criteria: one was the military advantage this out post gave them over the Goa'uld, and the other was Jackson himself.

On one of them, he might compromise. On the other, no way. It just wasn't gonna happen.

Okay, so John Sheppard had absolutely no idea where he was, but it looked pretty damn cool. The whole thing was carved out of ice, the walls and ceiling sliced by some huge machine into sharp, crystalline angles. It was quite incredible, and leagues away from the prefab buildings at McMurdo. Given their run in with the drone he figured it was some kind of advanced weapons research facility, but why it had to be buried beneath the ice was anyone's guess. Nuclear, maybe? But the place didn't have the somber feel of a nuclear research station. There was too much of a buzz in the atmosphere, and, more significantly, hardly anyone was in uniform. If he didn't know better he'd have said it was a civilian operation. But if that were the case then what were he and General O'Neill doing here? And that thing that had chased them out of the sky hadn't been civilian either…

Mindful of O'Neill's order not to touch, Sheppard started wandering. There were people bustling everywhere, but his attention was immediately caught by a dark-haired man standing next to a large, strangelooking chair. He was regaling a couple of others with a story that had him very animated, and Sheppard sidled closer in the hope of eavesdropping. Or, as he preferred to think of it, gathering intel.

"I don't know where it came from," the guy was saying. He had an accent. Irish, perhaps? "I just tried to concentrate, and the drone shut itself down…"

The drone? Suddenly the man's eyes were on Sheppard. Slightly awkward at having been caught listening, he decided that offense was the best form of defense. "So it was you?"

The man blinked nervously. "Me?"

"You tried to shoot my ass out of the sky?"

"No!" the guy protested immediately, taking a step back. And then, with a wince added, "Yes. I'm sorry.

Sheppard scowled. He had no idea who this little Irish — or was that Scottish? — guy was, but no one took pot shots at him without-

"Look, we're doing research," the guy blurted. "We're working with technology that's light years beyond us and we make mistakes. I'm incredibly, incredibly sorry."

Hmm… It was hard to argue with an apology that unconditional. "Well," Sheppard grumbled, "you should be more careful."

"That's what I said!"

"What the hell was that thing anyway?"

The man blinked again, this time in confusion. "You mean the drone?" When Sheppard stared blankly, the Scot — he was definitely Scottish, Sheppard decided — cautiously added, "The weapon the Ancients built to defend this outpost?"

Okay… Now things were getting a little weird. "The who?"

A flutter of panic crossed the guy's face, bordering on genuine alarm. He glanced around, as if expecting the hand of God to descend at any moment. "You do have security clearance to be here…?"

"Yeah, yeah," Sheppard assured him, feigning nonchalance. "General O'Neill just gave it to me." The truth was, he was far from nonchalant. Ancients? Weapons? Technology light years beyond us? His heart was hammering with an excitement he rarely felt when he wasn't at 20,000 feet with a bandit on his ass.

"Just now?"

"Yeah, five minutes ago." Now spill.

The guy didn't seem reassured. "Then," he began warily, "you don't even know about the Stargate?"

Sheppard stared at him. "The what?"

Dr. Jackson's research lab was as cluttered as always, microscopes competing with books and paper for the limited space he'd been allotted. But Weir's attention wasn't on the barely controlled chaos at the edges of the room, it was firmly fixed on the little theatre taking place around the wide table at the center.

General O'Neill had arrived, remarkably unfazed by his run-in with the rogue drone. In fact, when she'd started to apologize, he'd waved it away and said something about it being a good demonstration of the pilot's skills. Not fully understanding the military mind, Weir had let it rest. Frankly, she didn't have a lot of attention to spare from the business at hand. The General's decision today would mean life or death for the Atlantis project, and right now things didn't seem to be going in her favor.

"Pegasus?" O'Neill layered the word with amusement and sarcasm in equal measure.

"It's the name of a dwarf galaxy in the local group," Dr. Jackson supplied, utterly unperturbed by the General's apparent lack of interest.

O'Neill glanced at the map spread out before him on the table, one eyebrow lifting. "It's not on the map.

"No, it's very far away," Daniel agreed. "It's actually out here somewhere," he added, gesturing vaguely beyond the room. "We weren't even looking in the right neighborhood. I figure the Ancients packed up their entire city and left our galaxy somewhere between five and ten million years ago."

O'Neill was apparently immune to Jackson's infectious enthusiasm. "In their flying city?"

"Yes." Daniel stopped suddenly, brow furrowing. "What?"

The General was five degrees beyond skeptical. "Flying city?"

"Keep in mind this is the race that built the Stargate," Jackson reminded him. "They did everything big.

The idea of a civilization that had explored their entire galaxy simply packing up shop and going home still gave Weir pause for thought. "Why?" she asked, when it seemed that no one else would speak.

"You mean why did they leave?" Daniel asked, turning his gaze away from the dubious O'Neill. He shrugged. "Who knows? The Ancients on Earth were suffering a plague. That we know. Maybe some of them were trying to start over, seeding life in a new galaxy…? Maybe that's what Ancient civilizations do?" His attention returned to O'Neill, intense as a magnesium flame. "The point is, we know where they went."

At Weir's side, McKay stirred. He'd been unusually quiet so far, and she suspected he was somewhat intimidated by O'Neill. She was hazy on the details, but knew that he'd encountered the General back at the SGC on more than one occasion. "After all that time," McKay said, addressing Jackson, "is there any hope of actually meeting them?" Weir couldn't tell if he was excited or terrified by the prospect. A little of both, perhaps.

Jackson just shrugged again. "I have no idea," he confessed, "but it's reason enough to go."

And she wasn't going to be arguing with that. "I've been choosing the members of this expedition for months, Doctor." She looked at O'Neill, caught his eye and held it. "I'm not the one that needs con„vincing.

His flat smile lacked any warmth. "I'm convinced. Have fun."

Dr. Jackson sucked in a breath. "It's a little more complicated than that."

"We need the Zed Pee Em," McKay supplied helpfully. He seemed pleased to have a contribution to make.

But O'Neill just looked blank. "The what?"

"Zee Pee Em," Daniel corrected, and with an apologetic nod toward McKay added, "He's Canadian."

"I'm sorry," O'Neill replied, deadpan.

The jibe seemed to go right over McKay's head — there were times when his thick skin was actually useful, Weir decided — and he launched into an excited explanation. "Zero Point Module, General. The Ancient power source you recovered from Pra- clarush Taonas that's now powering this outpost's defenses." When O'Neill didn't respond, McKay continued, attempting to sound modest. He failed abysmally. "I've since determined it generates its enormous power from vacuum energy derived from a self-contained region of subspace/time."

After a long beat, O'Neill said, "That was a waste of a perfectly good explanation." His astute gaze returned to Jackson, then landed on Weir. "And the answer is no.

No? Impossible… Weir felt the breath catch in her chest. He was saying no? He couldn't. He couldn't just refuse to let them take the biggest step in the history of mankind just because-

"Jack, you know that gating between galaxies requires an incredible amount of power." Dr. Jackson wasn't giving up. Good. Neither was she.

"Yes. I do," O'Neill agreed. "Find another way."

"There is no other way and you know it," Daniel insisted. His irritation was beginning to seep through the cracks in his calm exterior, and before O'Neill could answer he hurried on. "I know what you're going to say: the outpost's power source has barely enough energy left in it to defend Earth in the event of another attack."

O'Neill shrugged. "That is what I was going to say. Slower."

"All the more reason to go…" Jackson dangled the unspoken promise like candy before a child.

The General cautiously sniffed at the bait. "There might be more of those things in Atlantis?"

"Yes!" Jackson was jubilant. "And who knows what else we could find? This isn't just another civilization, Jack, these were the Gate Builders."

O'Neill seemed reluctantly impressed, and Weir decided it was time to press the slight advantage. "The potential wealth of knowledge and technology outweighs anything we've come across since we first stepped through the Stargate."

"That's a…large statement."

And not one she was going to retract. "Yes, it is."

For a moment O'Neill looked at her, as if assessing her worth or her strength. Weir couldn't be sure. And then, quietly, he said, "With the amount of power you need to make the trip… odds are it'll be one way."

And that was the rub, the fly in the ointment. But it wasn't news. "We know that," she told him earnestly. "The potential benefit to humanity far outweighs the risk, General. And it's a risk that every member of my expedition is willing to take."

She glanced over at McKay, who'd been watching the exchange intently, hoping for an earnest nod of agreement. Instead, he was looking perturbed. When he caught her eye, he said, "One way?"

She glanced at O'Neill with the lift of an eyebrow, and caught his amused smile before he had time to hide it.

The story was incredible. Mind-blowing. And after a tour in Afghanistan, John Sheppard thought he knew all about mind-blowing. But Stargates and aliens with snakes in their bellies, and little gray men, not to mention Ancients who could become energy beings and fly cities halfway across the universe… It was — well if he hadn't known better, if he hadn't actually seen that flying squid earlier, he'd have been convinced he was the subject of some colossal practical joke.

"…We think the gene was used as a sort of genetic key, if you will," Beckett was explaining. That was his name: Carson Beckett, MD. And the accent was Scottish, not Irish. "So that only their kind could operate certain dangerous or powerful technologies."

Sheppard wasn't looking at the man. Instead he was circling the strange, alien chair. Alien! "And some people have the same genes as these Ancients?" In which case, perhaps `alien' was the wrong word?

"The specific gene is very rare," Beckett told him, from where he was leaning up against the wall. "But on the whole they looked very much like us. In fact," he continued, warming to the subject, "they were the first. We're the second evolution of this form — the Ancients having explored this galaxy millions of years before we even-"

He broke off as Sheppard came around to stand in front of the chair. It was right there, how could he not try it out'?

"Major," Beckett took a step closer, "please don't…"

Whatever. Sheppard sat down. "Come on," he protested, "what are the odds of my having the same-

The chair moved, sliding back and tilting his feet up. A pale golden light glowed everywhere and he could feel a gentle reverberation through his entire body. The chair was humming to itself. Sheppard held his breath, staring wide-eyed at the shocked face of Carson Beckett. Crap.

"Quite slim, actually," Beckett squeaked. Then, louder, "Dr. Weir!" He was about to bolt, turning back at the last moment to wag a finger at Sheppard. "Don't move!"

Move'? Sheppard barely dared breathe!

Within seconds footsteps came running, and Sheppard found himself face to face with a small crowd of astonished people. General O'Neill was the only one he recognized and his face was all scowl.

"Who is this'?" a slight, dark-haired woman asked. Under other circumstances he might have considered her attractive, but right now she just looked pissed.

"I thought I told you not to touch anything!" O'Neill snapped.

Sheppard felt obliged to defend himself, even if he dared not move a muscle. "I just sat down." It sounded lame, even to his own ears.

And then someone else was talking to him in clipped, staccato words. This guy didn't seem to have a lot of patience. "Major," he said abruptly, "think of where we are in the solar system."

Huh? The solar system? Sheppard struggled to remember back to the little model he'd made a hundred years ago, when he was a kid at home and aliens were something you saw at the movies. Third rock from the sun, right?

Suddenly, hanging in the air right above him, someone switched on a light show. He could pick out the sun and all its planets slowly orbiting in perfect, minute detail. It was astonishing, and from the sharp intakes of breath all around Sheppard suspected he wasn't the only one impressed.

And then another more ominous thought stirred in his mind and distracted him from the special effects. "Did I do that?"

The silence that greeted his words was as eloquent as a round of applause, and John Sheppard was suddenly struck by the absolute certainty that these people were about to turn his life upside-down, insideout and back-to-front.

He really didn't like it when people tried to do that…

Chapter Two

It was time to leave, and Jack O'Neill was beginning to think that he might actually walk out of Antarctica this time — barring the possibility of a freak elevator accident on his way topside, things were looking good. Unless, of course, Elizabeth Weir talked him to death before he actually reached the elevator in the first place. Daniel must have been giving lessons. Jack picked up his pace, forcing her to almost jog to keep up with his long-legged stride, but she wasn't deterred.

"We could be on our way to discovering an entirely new Ancient civilization," she enthused. "Best case scenario we meet some actual Ancients who are willing to help us, but if we don't…" She trailed off, forcing him to glance at her. "We need him."

No way. Not going to happen. "I need Daniel here." And that was the end of it.

Weir looked confused for half a heartbeat, then said, "I'm talking about Major Sheppard."

"Oh." He'd kinda like to hang on to the kid too — there was something amusing about the idea of having Carter hammer him into shape. Sheppard had some rough edges but a hell of a lot of potential, and Carter always liked a new project. "Haven't you already got a dozen or so people on your expedition team who can use Ancient technology?"

"With concentration and training, yes, they can make it work," Weir agreed. Then her eyes lit up, "John Sheppard does it naturally."

And Sheppard could probably charm the socks off Anubis himself too. If Anubis actually wore socks. Now there was a question to ponder… Jack stopped at the elevator, turned, and looked at the woman standing before him. What he had to tell her next was a test, of sorts. He was interested to see how she'd respond. "I've looked into his record, Doctor."

She gave a brief nod. "I know about the supposed black mark in Afghanistan," she said immediately, and with an attitude O'Neill admired. "He was trying to save the lives of three servicemen."

"Disobeying a direct order in the process." And that was the material issue; one that a civilian like Weir was unlikely to understand.

She surprised him then, another smile curving her lips. "I've read your own file, General."

Ali. Good point.

"Please."

The elevator doors rattled open. "It's your expedition," he said. Your decision. "If you want him, ask him."

He stepped into the cage, but Weir stopped him with two words. "I have."

There were few things that could stop Jack O'Neill in his tracks, but this was one of them. "You're kidding."

She shook her head. "I was hoping you'd talk to him."

And then some. What the hell was the kid thinking about, turning this down? It was incredible. Unbelievable. Frankly, it was bizarre. As the elevator rattled up through the ice, Jack turned the problem over and over in his mind, but there was no way of looking at it that made sense. Sheppard had two choices — waste his talents flying around the icepacks of Antarctica, or take part in the greatest endeavor in human history? Keep sucking up the bad rap for going back for those guys in Afghanistan, or start fresh with a new team in a new goddamn galaxy? Call him crazy, but wasn't it a no-brainer?

He found Sheppard on the small, windswept hellpad outside the dome that covered the borehole. The kid waved when he saw Jack approaching, and climbed into the helicopter to start the preflight routine. Given that Sheppard had just discovered the world's biggest and best kept secret — and been offered the chance to explore a galaxy named after a flying horse — he looked remarkably unperturbed. Confident, one might say. Chipper. No one should be this laidback, Jack decided as he too climbed into the helicopter. It wasn't natural.

After a moment of silence, Jack turned and watched the kid complete the preflight. He considered his words carefully, then said, "This isn't a long trip, so I'll be as succinct as possible."

Sheppard looked up, and Jack held his gaze with a sharp, penetrating look.

The kid got the message. "That's pretty succinct," he said, turning back to the controls.

"Thank you."

Sheppard puffed out a breath. "Well, I told Dr. Weir I'd think about it."

Think about it? What the hell? "And? So? Well?" There was no answer. And it still didn't make any goddamn sense. "You're a seasoned officer. You've seen combat, so I know you don't scare easily."

For the first time, Sheppard reacted. "With all due respect, sir, we were just attacked by an alien missile, I just found out I've got some mutant gene-"

"Do I look like a mutant?"

That shocked the younger man and his eyebrows rose as he stared for a moment. "Okay. Fine." But he recovered fast. Very fast. "Then there's this Stargate and expeditions to other galaxies…"

Put like that, O'Neill could see how it might feel a little overwhelming. Time to take the kid's ego out of the equation. "This isn't about you, Sheppard," he snapped, deliberately ratcheting up his irritation. "It's bigger than that."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's just me, but right now at this very second, whether I go on this mission seems to me to be just a little bit about me."

Damn, but Jack liked this kid's attitude. Sheppard would have given Carter hell, and that would've been fun to watch. "Let me ask you something," Jack said. "Why'd you become a pilot?"

"I think people who don't want to fly are crazy." No hesitation on that one.

"And I think people who don't want to go through the Stargate are equally whacked!" That got a reaction too; perhaps he was starting to get through at last. All he needed now was an ultimatum. "The offer expires when this bird touches down. If you can't say yes by then, I don't want you."

Sheppard gave him a flat look, revealing nothing. Without comment he started up the rotor.

Jack looked away, out the window, as Sheppard took them up into the air and banked hard to the right, heading back to McMurdo. It was a short trip; he just hoped the kid could think as fast as he flew. And as smart.

Fall had settled across Washington, DC, that poignant moment when the last days of summer finally capitulated to the fresh, sapphire blue skies of autumn. The air was crisp, and even here, among the brownstone houses of Georgetown, Elizabeth Weir thought she could detect the scent of wood smoke in the air. It had always been her favorite time of year, a time of new beginnings and fond farewells. A time to turn her back on the hazy heat of summer and to march forward into the crystal clear days of winter.

This year the change was more poignant still. This year, though her heart was already halfway to the Pegasus galaxy, she found the goodbyes almost too difficult to bear. But it was hardly surprising; this year, for the first time, she knew she might never return. For the first time she knew it might be — would probably be — the final goodbye.

As she sat at the wide oak table and watched her family and closest friends talking and smiling and laughing, she wondered, for the hundredth time, how she dared do this. How she dared do this to them. The adventure was hers, the grief would be theirs. And she couldn't even tell them. If the worst happened, they'd be fed a lie — a cover story — and would bury an empty coffin.

It was the guilt, more than anything, that made her stomach churn. At her side her partner, Simon, detected her mood and reached out a hand to touch her knee beneath the table. Of them all, he was the hardest to leave. He was the hardest to lie to.

She covered his hand with her own and gave it a gentle squeeze. But she couldn't sit there any longer, prolonging the moment where she'd hug all her dinner guests and tell them she'd see them soon and that they shouldn't worry. The sooner it was done, the better. The sooner she was back at the SGC with her team, the better. These goodbyes were impossible.

Abruptly she stood, beginning to clear away the long-empty dishes. Once her guests had gone she could finish her packing and-

"Elizabeth, wait." Simon's hand was on her arm, an affectionate smile in his brown eyes. "Sit down a second, I want to make a toast."

Oh no. Please, not that. "Simon…"

"Just sit down."

She did, not wanting to make a scene. Not wanting to make this any more difficult than it already was. But that, in truth, was almost impossible. She couldn't imagine how it could get any worse than this moment, right now.

Clearing his throat, Simon stood and everyone fell silent. He turned to Elizabeth with a smile. "Wherever you're going this time… Whatever treaties you broker or international agreements that you can't tell your closest friends and family…"

Oh God. "Simon…"

He held up a hand. "I think I speak for everyone here. As much as we will miss you, we're willing to let you go because we all know you're doing your damndest to make the world a better place."

She had no words to answer him, her throat was too tight. Shakily she smiled, blinking tears out of her eyes as everyone raised their glasses. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for deceiving you, for leaving you. For putting this thing, this crazy adventure, before all of you.

"Elizabeth," Simon said quietly, raising his glass and taking a sip. It almost undid her.

It was so easy to feel sorry for herself tonight, to feel sorry for her family — and Simon. But she had to remember that she wasn't alone, that all across the world there were people saying goodbye tonight. Every member of her team knew it could be a one-way trip, and not one them could tell their partners, husbands, parents, or children. All of them were willing to sacrifice not only their lives, but the happiness of their families, for the sake of mankind's future — even, perhaps, for the sake of its very survival. And so she refused to wallow, refused to have second thoughts. She was their leader and she couldn't afford to doubt the value of what they were doing.

Determinedly, she lifted her own glass and clinked it gently against Simon's. "To the future," she said. And meant it.

Dr. Rodney McKay had always enjoyed his own company. In truth, he'd made a virtue out of necessity, but that didn't diminish the enjoyment he got from a cold beer, good TV, and the sense that he could breathe. People, in general, made him nervous. He didn't understand them; he didn't get people, and they certainly didn't get him. If they weren't asking questions so banal it made his brain ache, they were making unreasonable — even inexplicable — emotional demands that left him feeling entirely at sea. And he hated feeling like that, because he was a smart guy and he didn't understand how stupid people could make him feel, well, stupid.

So, his own company was relaxing. Refreshing. And it wasn't as if he was entirely alone — he had a cat. Cats he could relate to, they didn't demand much beyond food and the occasional rub behind the ears. If only people were so easily tamed…

That, in short, was why Rodney McKay found himself sitting alone in his apartment staring at his telephone. Tomorrow he'd be leaving for Colorado, and from there — astonishingly — for the Pegasus galaxy. He really should call his sister and say…what? Goodbye? Sorry I forgot your birthday the last three years, but you should be proud of me, because I'm about to blaze a trail for humanity across the universe?

Hardly. He hadn't called her when he'd been ban ished to Russia for a year (and he still hadn't entirely forgiven O'Neill for that one), so what made this different? The fact that he might never, ever return? He seriously wondered if she'd even notice. Which kind of made the phone call redundant. `Hi, just calling to say I'm leaving for an unspecified period of time to go somewhere I can't tell you about and to do something that's so top secret that I'd have to kill you if I let the truth slip.' Ha, ha. She wouldn't believe him anyway. She'd always thought he was the world's biggest geek, and he wouldn't be surprised if she assumed he was spending his time wearing a pair of Spock ears and replicating the USS Enterprise inside his apartment.

And he didn't even like sci-fi. He preferred his science undiluted with hokum. Not that she knew that.

He could feel the tension mounting just contemplating the call. Ironic, that the thought of telephoning his sister was actually more terrifying than the idea of stepping through the Stargate and throwing his disassembled molecules into another galaxy. Of course, that was stomach-churningly terrifying, but that was tomorrow and this was today and the telephone was staring at him like it might bite.

Reaching out, he picked it up. His hands were clammy and when he stabbed at the first number his finger slid off the button. She'd probably be out anyway, he reasoned. Or in bed. It was late. Too late. She'd get irritated that he'd called so late, and really he had no idea what he would say other than that he was leaving, but she wouldn't care about that anyway and he'd end up feeling stupid and tongue-tied and-

He let the phone drop onto the table and stood up.

His neighbor had agreed to look after the cat. What was her name? Donna? Dawn? Denise? Something. It had a D in it. Whatever. She'd agreed to look after the cat, and if he didn't get over there now she'd have gone to bed and his flight was so early that he couldn't drop by in the morning, so… With a sideways glance at the phone he picked up the cat, her bowl and bag of food, and struggled to the door.

He'd call when he got back. His sister would never even know he'd gone anyway, and maybe then he'd be able to tell her something about Atlantis. Maybe then he'd be a hero, and she'd actually be interested in what he was doing with his life.

Yeah, he'd call later. That was fine. That was easy.

He'd call when he got home.

It was night now, nearly midnight over DC, and the hour was about to tick over into the next day; the last day Elizabeth would spend on this planet. And that was a thought to freak out anybody. She tried to banish it, but it wouldn't go far, hovering on the periphery of her mind like a cloud about to burst.

It was harder to be brave when you were alone.

Swallowing, she focused on her full suitcase. It would all have to be transferred into a military pack when she reached the SGC, but kitting herself out like Rambo would have only raised more questions from Simon. And God knew he had enough already. He was like a walking-

Suddenly her eye was caught by a small flash of color, buried just beneath the top layer of her clothes. She tugged at it and realized it was a gift. It was typical of him, he usually smuggled something into her bag before she left, and she smiled sadly as she turned the present over in her hand. He'd want her to wait, to open it when she arrived. But there would be no room in her pack for gifts; one personal item each. That was the rule and it applied to her as much as anyone else in the team.

So, carefully, she slipped a finger beneath the paper and ripped it away. Inside was an elegant jewelry box. It opened with a soft click to reveal a simple silver necklace. It was beautiful, and his thoughtfulness touched her deeply and only renewed her guilt. He loved her, and she loved him. But not enough to stay, not enough to refuse this chance to do what no one else had ever done.

Did that make her a bad person? Did that make her-

"South Korea."

His quiet voice came from behind her, in the doorway. Weir laughed, but didn't turn around. "No."

"Liechtenstein."

"Liechtenstein?"

"I've guessed everywhere else, haven't I?" She turned, and he smiled at her, nodding at the necklace in her hand. "You were supposed to wait to open that."

"I know. I couldn't." But she'd take it with her, even if she had to wear it under her uniform. "Thank you."

Hands in his pockets, he strolled toward her. "You must have some idea when you'll be back."

"I honestly don't," she sighed. "And even if I did…" Right then, at that moment, she'd have given her right arm to be able to tell him. She just hoped, prayed, that the President would let him see the video tape she'd recorded for him. At least then he would know the truth.

He could sense her distress, he'd always been able to read her like a book, and without another word he reached out and pulled her into his arms. For a long moment he just held her, and then quietly said, "You can still tell me how you feel, can't you?"

She knew what he wanted to hear, but it felt wrong to say it now, when she was leaving him — perhaps forever — and he didn't even know it. I love you, but not enough to give this up for you. Not enough to stay… Swallowing hard, she decided on a different truth. "Scared," she whispered. "I feel scared."

He didn't answer, just held her tight and she drew what comfort she could from his embrace. It was little enough, and would have to last a long time.

The SGC was buzzing. The excitement was palpable, bouncing off the walls, merging with the constant chatter in twenty different languages and generating enough energy to power the Stargate without any need for the ZPM.

General Jack O'Neill loved days like this. The only downside was that his team weren't the ones on the ramp, ready to go and take on the galaxy. But things change, and this wasn't their moment of glory. This belonged to Dr. Weir and the team of — he had to admit — complete geeks she'd assembled. He hoped she knew what she was doing. At least John Sheppard had quit screwing around and agreed to take the mission; thank God someone would know one end of a P90 from the other. For all of Weir's talk about peace and exploration, Jack had seen enough of the galaxy to know that most diplomacy came down the barrel of a gun. He couldn't imagine this Pegasus place being much different.

As he jogged down the stairs from his office to the control room, Jack saw that Weir was already there and preparing the dialing sequence. It was a one-shot deal, and the tension in the room was so thick you could cut it and spread it on toast. She was deep in conversation with Daniel — talking of geeks — but had one eye on the window, watching with some concern what was going on down in the gate room.

Curious, Jack followed her gaze and realized that her attention was fixed on Colonel Marshal Sumner, the buzz-cut commander of the Marines assigned to her mission. Jack knew his type, and respected him. Yelling at anything that moved had never been his own style — it just made his throat hurt — but it worked for some folks and Sumner was a master of the art. Jack drew closer to the window and watched him eyeing one of Weir's team fiddling with the content of a FRED lined up to ship out. Jack recognized the fiddler as Carson Beckett, the doctor who'd almost shot his ass out of the sky over Antarctica.

Without preamble, Sumner muscled between Beckett and the FRED. "Everything in this room has been double-checked and triple-checked and cleared for take off," he snapped. "Leave it alone."

Beckett didn't seem at all intimidated, much to Jack's secret amusement. "Look, Colonel, I don't answer to you," he snapped, returning to whatever the hell he was doing to the equipment on the FRED.

Sumner cast a killer look at the Security Officer who'd been supervising. The kid looked about as pissed off as the Colonel. "He said the same to me, sir."

"That's what your sidearm is for," Sumner growled, directing the threat directly at Beckett.

The doctor stopped dead, and Sumner walked away. Even Jack was unsure if the Marine colonel had been bluffing. He turned and caught the concerned look in Weir's eye. She wasn't used to the military, and men like Sumner took some handling; he didn't blame her for worrying.

"The eight-chevron address is what tells the gate to look for a point in space outside our galaxy," Daniel blurted, oblivious to the little scene in the gate room and pulling Weir's attention back to the dialing computer. "We won't know until it locks."

Jack ambled over. "Are we there yet?"

"We're just waiting on Dr. McKay," Weir told him, her eyes drifting back to Sumner.

Jack watched her for a moment, coming to stand at her side. "Don't second-guess yourself," he advised. "There may come a time when you'll want a man like Sumner on your side."

"As long as he remembers this is a civilian expedition," she said. "Not a military mission."

So that's what was bugging her. "He knows who's in charge," Jack assured her. "So do I."

"Thank you." She nodded, and then glanced at him sideways. "You are talking about me, right?"

He smiled. Yeah, she'd be okay. She'd be just fine.

Stargate Command was awesome, in the literal sense of the word. Who'd have guessed this was buried beneath Cheyenne Mountain? Floors and floors of top secret labs and research units, the Stargate itself — this huge, incredible piece of technology that spat out subspace like water and connected the world to planets across the universe. Who'd have guessed?

He'd been here a week already, but still John Sheppard was in awe. And not just of the technology; there were some scarily smart people around here, and he'd gradually begun to get to know some of them. McKay, the guy who'd told him to think about the solar system, seemed to be the head smart-ass. He knew his stuff alright, but was as prickly as a porcupine on a bad day. Then again, McKay spoke his mind and Sheppard admired that. Charm he could live without, honesty he couldn't.

As he threaded his way through the bustling corridor, Sheppard saw the doors to the gate room up ahead. This was it; this was the day when it would all happen. Or not. Last time he'd seen McKay, the guy had been fiddling with the ZPM and just about ripping out what was left of his hair. He hadn't been too amused when Sheppard had cautioned him about that either…

Sheppard grinned at the memory, and stepped into the gate room. It was small and dominated entirely by the massive Stargate. And there were people everywhere. It was like some kind of foreign market, full of snatches of French, German and other languages he couldn't begin to recognize. A little guy in glasses dashed past cursing in something that sounded vaguely Eastern European. Sheppard found his heart beating a little faster, the expectation pumping adrenaline freely through his system. This was life, he thought, gazing around him. This was living. O'Neill had been right; anyone who didn't want to do this was whacked.

High from the buzz, he turned in a slow three-sixty and suddenly found himself trapped in the gaze of Colonel Sumner. It wasn't exactly what you'd call a friendly gaze, but Sheppard had never been easily intimidated. "Colonel," he said, keeping the greeting frosty.

Sumner didn't answer, but if looks could kill… Sheppard turned away, just as Dr. Weir entered the room. She looked tiny compared with the hulking machinery — and hulking soldiers — that pervaded the SGC. But she didn't look apprehensive. He liked that. For a civilian, she had a strong arm.

"Can I have everyone's attention?" she began, instantly quelling the bustling room. Even those in the corridors fell silent, crowding close to hear what she had to say.

Charisma, Sheppard decided. She had charisma.

"We are about to try a connection." The buzz that followed those words ricocheted around the room, raising expectation in everyone. "We've been unable to predict exactly how much power this is going to take, and we may only get one chance," she carried on. "Most of the power expenditure is in the initial connection, so if we achieve a stable wormhole we won't risk shutting the gate down. We're going to send a MALP robot probe, check for viability, and go. Everything in one shot."

Just like that.

Weir shifted where she stood, chin lifting along with the subject. "Every one of you volunteered for his mission," she said, and Sheppard didn't miss the genuine warmth and pride in her voice. "You represent over a dozen countries — the world's best and brightest. In light of the adventure we are about to embark on, you are also the bravest." She was good; this was good. Sheppard was riveted. "I hope that we will all return one day, having discovered a whole new realm for humanity to explore, and that we will learn things we previously thought unimaginable. But, as you all know, we may never be able to return home." Silence. Absolute silence filled the short pause. She wasn't saying anything they didn't know, but hearing it spoken aloud, on the cusp of the adventure… "I'd like to give you all one last chance to withdraw your participation."

No one moved, and in that frozen moment Sheppard felt Colonel Sumner's eyes drilling into him. He returned the stare, daring the man to chicken out. But no one was backing down.

Weir spoke again. "Begin the dialing sequence."

A clunk reverberated through the floor, through Sheppard's boots and into his chest, and the gate started to spin. The speed and power of it was awesome and he had to struggle not to take a step back. He knew the principle, of course, but this was the first time he'd seen the thing in action. It was overwhelming, and as he watched each chevron lock into place he realized that this was it. This was the moment that would determine the rest of his life — of all their lives.

He watched Weir leave the room and head up to the control room. Sumner was watching her too, before he turned away and pushed through the crowd to stand at Sheppard's shoulder. "Let me be clear about something," the Colonel said in a low voice, sharp enough to cut steel. "You are not here by my choice."

Too bad. "You'll warm up to me when you get to know me better, sir, I promise." Officers like Sumner always failed to impress him, and Sheppard thought it best that the Colonel know that from the outset.

Sumner just walked away, but not without a sarcastic parting shot. "Long as you remember who gives the orders."

Snide sonofabitch. Sheppard watched him go and, at the last possible moment, called, "That would be Dr. Weir, right?"

The Colonel turned back and glared. Sheppard met his challenge without flinching and didn't blink until Sumner was forced to look away and move on.

He allowed himself a grim smile and returned his attention to the spinning Stargate. So…this is gonna be fun.

The atmosphere in the control room was charged so thick Weir could almost feel her hair beginning to stand on end. Dr. Jackson, General O'Neill and Rodney McKay were with her, staring, transfixed, at the dialing Stargate. It hardly seemed possible that they were about to reach out across the universe to an entirely new galaxy, and she wondered if this was how Columbus or Magellan had felt as they stood aboard their frail ships and set sail for an undiscovered world.

"Chevron six encoded," the technician reported.

With butterflies dancing in her stomach, Weir cast a glance at McKay. He was staring straight ahead, expressionless. She wasn't entirely sure he was still breathing. "This is it," she said quietly. He didn't respond, all his attention riveted on the Stargate. "Seriously," she laughed, the tension making her giddy, "calm down. You're embarrassing me."

His eyes didn't move, his face deadpan. "I have never been so excited in my entire life."

Weir had never seen anyone become catatonic with excitement, but she had an open mind. Anything was possible. "It's going to be fine."

"Honestly, I never thought we'd get this far."

Really? Well, that was interesting… She glanced at O'Neill, who lifted his shoulders in a shrug, but any comment was forestalled.

Chevron seven was encoded. This was it. This was the moment…

The Stargate stopped spinning. The entire gate room had fallen silent, every single breath was held. No one even dared blink. The chevron clamped down on the symbol for Earth, the gate rumbled, and then…

The event horizon mushroomed out, and settled peacefully in place.

"Chevron eight is locked!" The technician sounded elated. The gateway to a new galaxy had been opened…

Weir glanced at O'Neill, who gave her a brief nod. "Send the MALP," she ordered and watched as it crawled up the ramp and disappeared into shimmering light. Then it was gone.

With everyone else, Weir huddled around the technician's work station, waiting for the transmission that would determine if anyone would follow the MALP through the gate…

Let it work, she silently prayed. Let it work!

Nothing happened. Static snowed across the screen, but there was no transmission. Damn it. "It should be there by now."

"It has a long way to go," McKay pointed out, sounding much calmer than herself. How the hell does he do that?

To fail now, when they were so close… So damn close! She didn't think she could handle it. Seriously. If the MALP just disappeared without trace, if there was no answer to the thousands of questions already pummeling her mind, then she-

Suddenly the indicators on the screen jumped to life and the snowstorm vanished, to be replaced by a dark, unclear picture.

"We have MALP telemetry," the technician reported quietly, almost reverently.

Weir's heart leaped. "What are we looking at?"

Eyes glued to the screen, McKay slipped behind one of the consoles, frowning in concentration.

"Switching to infrared," the technician said and the screen flipped to a more psychedelic image. It helped, but only slightly.

"Radar indicates a large room," said McKay, studying the screen.

"Structurally intact," Dr. Jackson added.

For the first time, McKay was beginning to reveal his excitement. Or, perhaps, his trepidation. "Environment sensors say there's oxygen. No measurable toxins. We have viable life support." He paused and looked over at Weir. Yes, she thought, definitely trepidation. "Looks like we're not getting out of this."

She wanted to grin, but kept it in check as she looked to O'Neill for his decision.

The General took a breath, and she thought she detected a slight hint of regret — or envy — as he gravely said, "Dr. Weir. .you have a go."

Life as she knew it — as they all knew it — was about to change forever. With a nod to O'Neill and Dr. Jackson, she turned to McKay. He was on his feet, nervous now, but not backing down. Hell, she was nervous too. Who wouldn't be? This was so enormous she could hardly comprehend what they were about to do, but one thing was for sure. They were going to do it.

"Come on," she said to McKay, "let's go make history.

Chapter Three

The order was given; the mission was a go. Colonel Sumner felt no surprise, no elation, no fear. He didn't allow himself to be distracted so easily. Afghanistan, Abydos, or Atlantis; it was all the same to him. It was all enemy territory, and his job was to keep his people safe. That was all, no argument and no ambiguity.

He cast a glance at Sheppard and wished for the tenth time that Weir had listened to his recommendation to drop the cocky, smart-ass kid from the team. She'd said he was important, that he had some mutant gene. Whatever. But if Sheppard so much as hesitated before carrying out an order, Sumner was going to own his ass. And that was no joke.

Behind him, the security team were swinging their heavy packs onto their backs, settling their weapons ready for use. No one knew what lay on the other side of the puddle, but he'd bet dollars to donuts it wouldn't be friendly. That was how the world worked, and he doubted the Pegasus galaxy would be any different. He paused, just for a moment, to feel the weight of the gun in his hands and to focus his mind. And then he stepped up onto the ramp and started walking.

"Let's go, people," he barked, "we don't know how much power we've got! Security teams one through four are up first. All other personnel will follow on our signal." He turned on the ramp and glanced back at his men. "Once on the other side, keep moving and clear the debarkation area." He turned back to the Stargate and began striding toward it. "On my lead."

"Hold on, Colonel!" It was Weir, her strident voice carrying through the bustle of the gate room. "We go through together."

Refusing to display his irritation he stopped again, and once more turned around. She was pushing through the crowd, her own pack so large he was surprised she didn't topple over. What the hell did she have in there? Hairdryer and rollers? Suddenly Sumner felt eyes on him, and looked over to see Sheppard watching him intently.

"Long as you remember who gives the orders. "

"That would be Dr Weir, right? "

Smug SOB. Sumner turned his attention back to Weir. What the hell — if she wanted to get her ass blown off in the first wave, who was he to argue? But all he said was, "Fair enough."

With his weapon raised, expecting everything and nothing, Sumner took a final glance at the gate room — and Earth — before stabbing through the event horizon and letting it shred him to pieces.

Daniel battled against a tidal wave of jealousy as he watched Elizabeth Weir standing at the top of the ramp. She'd paused, as so many did, on the cusp. He saw her take a deep breath and then, with no further hesitation, she stepped boldly through the gate and was gone.

He wondered briefly if he'd ever see her again, but the thought wasn't enough to distract him from the stomach-twisting envy. She was going to Atlantis! All these people were going to Atlantis, the place he'd been compulsively seeking for over a year. The city of the Ancients! He'd found it at last, but they were going and he had to stay home. It was just… wrong.

He glanced at Jack, who silently watched the Atlantis team make their final preparations. His face was impassive, but Daniel knew he was bound to share the sense of being left behind. At least to some degree. And, as usual, Daniel found it impossible to hold his tongue. "Jack, there's still time for me to-"

"No."

"But I-"

"No."

And then the radio crackled, and Sumner's faint voice could be heard. "All clear, it looks good!"

"Very well," Jack replied.

That was it, the final moment was upon them. Daniel clenched his teeth and turned to watch through the window.

At his side, Jack gave the order. "Expedition team, move out."

The exodus began. Scientists, soldiers, doctors, engineers, biologists, archeologists… The luckiest people alive, Daniel thought. They filed up the ramp in twos and threes, lugging their equipment behind them as they embarked on humanity's biggest adventure — without him.

A hand suddenly landed on his shoulder. "Come on," said Jack, brandishing a magnum of champagne, "let's go see them off."

With a sigh, Daniel followed him out of the control room. "I'm never going to forgive you for this," he pointed out as they trotted down the narrow steps into C-corridor.

"Yeah," Jack nodded. "Think I can live with that." At the bottom of the stairs Jack stopped and pinned Daniel with a serious look. "Don't get me wrong, what these people are doing is astonishing. It's important. And one day, they'll come back and tell us what they've discovered. But," he paused to let a couple of airman past, "but it's our job to give them a home to come back to. It's not over with Anubis, and you know it."

He was right, of course. And without a ZPM they had no defense against renewed attack. But it was just so…

"They have a job to do Daniel," said Jack. "So do we." And then he smiled, "Besides, Teal'c would miss you.

Daniel snorted a quiet laugh and they carried on walking. "Teal'c?"

"Sure. And Carter."

"As pep talks go, Jack, this is one of your.. less convincing.

"Thank you. I put a lot of thought into it."

Daniel didn't bother answering, but perhaps — maybe — it wasn't so bad to be left behind after all.

General O'Neill had been right when he'd said that Sheppard didn't scare easy. And it wasn't like he was scared as he stepped up to the ramp and came face-to-face with what looked like a shiny, vertical puddle. It was just that flying he knew, flying he understood. You had the stick, the bird did what you told it to, you knew where the ground was and you knew what would happen if you hit it too hard. But with this… Holy hell! McKay had given him a long-winded description, the gist of which had been that every molecule in his body would be torn apart, flung across the galaxy, and then reassembled at the other end.

It sounded painful. He hadn't asked McKay about that because, well, frankly that wasn't the sort of thing majors in the USAF asked civilian scientists. But it had been niggling there in the back of his mind for a while now. Not that he was afraid of pain… he just wanted to know what to expect.

He was close to the Stargate now, he could feel the static prickling against his skin and smell the tang of ozone. Yeah, this was real. This was… crazy. At his side, a young lieutenant was watching him. Ford, was his name. He was SGC trained and had done this a hundred times, or so he'd said. And he was watching Sheppard now — waiting for him to baulk?

That wasn't gonna happen. "What's it feel like?"

"Hurts like hell, sir." The kid was deadly serious.

Crap. Sheppard hesitated on the brink, bracing himself. Suddenly Ford was grinning, turning his back to the wormhole like a kid at the side of the family swimming pool. With a whoop he flung himself in backward, and Sheppard knew he'd been taken for a ride.

Rolling his eyes he stepped through… and felt an awesome, ice-cold, stomach-dropping dive from 30,000 feet, slamming into a tight roll, and a screaming ascent at an angle that would shred the blades and-

Then he stepped out into a dark, vast room. It took a second to orient himself and shake off the effects of the ride — and to resist the urge to yell `let's do it again!' But orders were orders, and he had to clear the gate area. Moving carefully, trying to look everywhere at once, he saw the rest of his team milling around in awe. The place was astonishing, disappearing up into darkness. Mottled blue light seeped down from above, casting the curved, elegant design in shadows that stretched out in all directions. A wide staircase rose in front of him, leading to other levels and balconies that arched as if the place were a palace. Sheppard wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but this wasn't it. Perhaps he'd been expecting a place of war but this looked like a ballroom. In the dim light he could see Weir gazing around, as awestruck as any other member of the team.

Turning, Sheppard glanced at the Stargate and was surprised to see that it was different from the one on Earth. It looked more modern, if that was possible. The chevrons glittered blue, and the rim of the gate disappeared beneath the floor of the room in which they stood. There was no ramp.

"Teams one through four secure the immediate area." Sumner's voice came over the radio, and Sheppard glanced up to see him coming to stand next to Weir on the stairs. "Everyone else find an open space and plant yourself there until instructed otherwise."

Sheppard moved through the milling civilians toward the stairs. Someone seemed to have found a light switch, because as he moved small white lights were winking on all over the place.

"Who's doing that?" he heard Weir ask Sumner.

"Security teams, any sign of alien contact?" the Colonel barked into his radio. The answer was negative, but Sheppard didn't need to hear it. He understood exactly what was happening.

"The lights are coming on by themselves," he said quietly. The only person listening was Rodney McKay, who'd appeared out of nowhere and was blatantly ignoring Sumner's order to stay put while the security teams investigated. Sheppard decided to keep an eye on McKay, and together they crept up the stairs into what looked like the Atlantis equivalent of the SGC's control room.

Everything was covered with dust sheets. Sheppard smiled at the notion. Who knew aliens used dust sheets? It was strangely comforting, almost as if they'd been expected. But that was impossible…

From this level, Sheppard found he had a good view of the gate room. If that was what it was called. The last of the security teams were making their way through, blinking in astonishment and glancing around as they emerged from the high-octane ride.

"That's everyone," Sumner told Weir.

With a nod, Weir keyed her radio. "General O'Neill," she said. "Atlantis base offers greetings from the Pegasus galaxy." Sheppard smiled, and wondered how long it had taken her to come up with the line. That's one small step… "You may cut power to the gate. Weir out."

Nothing happened immediately, but then something slowly rolled out of the Stargate and came to rest at Weir's feet. What it was Sheppard couldn't quite make out, for at that moment the wormhole disengaged and the room was plunged into a deeper gloom. As his eyes adjusted to the relative darkness he saw Weir bend down and pick up the object… It was a magnum of champagne.

"Bon voyage," read Weir on the label, "from General Jack O'Neill."

Sheppard grinned. Nice touch.

Taking a deep breath, Weir turned and looked at her team. Even from up in the control room Sheppard could feel the intensity of her gaze. "That's it," she said, her quiet voice carrying to everyone. "We're on our own.

And never had those words been so absolutely, incontrovertibly true. He wasn't sure if it was scary as hell or the biggest rush of his life. Both, probably.

It was more astonishing than anything she had dared to imagine. Never, not once, had she believed they would find Atlantis intact. At best she'd hoped for a vast ruin, undisturbed by looters and treated kindly by the ravages of time. At worst she'd imagined dust or a hostile reception from the descendants of the gate builders. But this… Elizabeth Weir tried to take it all in as she slowly climbed the stairs to the mezzanine level. She could see Sheppard and McKay already up there, their voices mingling with the constant chatter that drifted through the vast chamber and the stream of static and awed voices that came over her radio.

Her people were spreading out, exploring and securing this most alien of environments. The first humans ever to stand here! It was a giddying thought.

"They look like ships. Space ships!" an excited voice she didn't recognize burst over her radio. "Dr. Weir, you have to see this!"

She smiled at the schoolboy enthusiasm and kept walking up the steps. "I have a lot of things to see. Just be careful."

At the top of the stairs she realized what was fascinating McKay and Sheppard. They'd discovered what had to be a control room. McKay looked like a kid in a toy store, whipping off dust sheets and dashing from one bank of instruments to the next while muttering under his breath. He wasn't smiling, but she knew him well enough to recognize excitement when she saw it. Compared to his deadpan tension in the SGC control room, this was tantamount to a hurri cane. Sheppard on the other hand was more cautious, the center of calm to McKay's whirlwind of activity. The Major's eyes were moving across the controls, carefully watching them light up one by one.

As she stepped inside, he glanced at her and said, "I didn't touch anything."

"Relax, Major," Weir smiled. "It's like the entire complex is sensing our presence and coming to life." It was already clear they were talking about a technology that far surpassed their current understanding, but if they could just make sense of a fraction of it, the possible advances were beyond the power of her imagination.

"This must be the control room," McKay said, his brusque tone interrupting her musing. He was still moving, touching one of the consoles with nervous fingers. "And this is obviously their version of a DHD."

"Oh, obviously," Sheppard agreed.

But McKay wasn't listening, dashing back to another bank of lights. "This area could be power control systems, possibly a computer interface of some-

"Why don't you find out?" Weir suggested.

He stopped, as if the idea were novel, then nodded. "Right."

She watched for a moment as he called down for Grodin and some of the other scientists, rattling off a list of equipment, only half of which made any sense to Weir's non-technical mind. So amused was she by the flurry of activity that she didn't hear another set of footsteps.

"Dr. Weir." It was Sumner, marching into the control room like he owned it. "You need to come with me.

And now he was giving her orders? "Colonel-"

But he was already halfway out the door, striding off into the shadows of the complex. Damn him. Weir caught Sheppard's eye and saw her irritation mirrored in his face. Suddenly, right then, she realized she had an ally in Major John Sheppard. And that thought was more comforting than she liked to admit. With a curt nod to him she headed out after Sumner, leaving Sheppard to trail along behind them.

Sumner didn't slow his pace, forcing Weir to almost run to catch up. As soon as she was within hearing distance, he started talking. He didn't bother to turn around, he just started talking. "We've only managed to secure a fraction of the place," he reported. "It's huge."

Better and better. "Then this may really be the lost city of Atlantis." It was mind-blowing to even say those words. She was living a legend!

"Oh, I'd say that's a good bet," Sumner replied, and something in his tone of voice gave her pause. She was about to call him on it when Sumner led her through a set of ornate doors, beyond which stood a vast floor-to-ceiling window. And beyond that…

"My God." Slowly she approached the glass. Outside lay a vast city of sweeping spires and arching walkways, a beautiful city of ethereal elegance, all covered by a thin skin of energy. She looked up and far above them she found the source of the mottled blue light that permeated the whole complex. It was sunlight, filtered through the shimmering surface of a vast ocean. "We're underwater."

"I'd say under several hundred feet of ocean," Sumner replied clinically. He was assessing the tactical situation, she supposed, rather than the city's unearthly beauty. "If we can't dial out, this could be a problem."

If we can't dial out…

"Colonel, Dr. Weir!" McKay burst into the room.

"We're underwater," observed the ever laconic Major Sheppard.

"Yes, I was just coming to tell you. Fortunately there's some sort of force shield holding the water back." Sparing a glance out the window, McKay was momentarily derailed. "That is impressive, isn't it?" And then he shook it off, "Dr. Beckett has found something you should see."

McKay led them at a breakneck speed through the corridors of Atlantis, lights flicking on constantly as they passed. The whole city seemed to be waking up, to be welcoming them. Everywhere they turned there were wonders to be seen, secrets to be uncovered. It was almost too much to take in, and Weir found herself worrying that she might miss something vital; that in the rush to see it all they'd walk past some tiny piece of information or knowledge that-

"In here," McKay said, stopping before a set of double doors and waving her and the Colonel ahead of him. With no of idea what to expect, Weir stepped inside and found herself staring at a beautiful woman in long, white robes.

The woman stood at the center of a low dais and it took a moment for her to grasp that she wasn't real. She was a projection, a hologram, and she was talking."…in the hope of spreading new life in a galaxy where there appeared to be none," she said. "Soon, the new life grew and prospered…"

At her side, Weir sensed Sheppard looking around uncomfortably. "Isn't anybody gonna say anything?" he whispered.

"It's a hologram," Weir whispered back, not taking her eyes from the face of the woman — the Ancient woman. This was the face of their ancestors, of a past so distant it had been forgotten even in antiquity.

"The recording loops," Dr. Beckett explained, clearly proud of his discovery. "This is my second time through,"

As usual, Sumner refused to be impressed by the majesty of the moment. "What've we missed?"

"Not much, this is the good part."

"Here, as before, we built a system of Stargates," the hologram continued, "so that fledgling civilizations could travel between the stars, exchange knowledge and friendship."

"Can you rewind it?" Sumner asked. "Start from the beginning."

Oh, for the love of "Just wait…" murmured Weir.

Suddenly, above their heads, the galaxy appeared, swirling above them in all its marvelous intricacy. "In time, a thousand worlds bore the fruit of life in this form," the Ancient woman explained, and as she spoke tiny blue dots began to appear among the stars until the entire galaxy was alive with color — the planets on which the Ancients had seeded life in an almost biblical act of creation. It was truly breathtaking.

"Then, one day, our people set foot upon a dark world where a terrible enemy slept."

On the far side of the galaxy Weir saw a single dot glowing a malevolent red. A whisper of icy air seemed to brush across her skin, stirring the hairs on the back of her neck, and she shivered.

"Never before had we encountered beings with powers that rivaled our own. In our overconfidence, we were unprepared and outnumbered."

Another red dot appeared, then another. Blue was consumed by scarlet, like the slow creep of blood spilling across the galaxy. Weir found that she was actually holding her breath, and no one in the room made a sound. Not even Sumner. Their attention was rapt.

"A great battle was fought and lost," the Ancient woman continued, her voice now heavy with sadness. "The enemy fed upon the defenseless human worlds like a great scourge until finally only Atlantis remained."

And in the stars above them, only one dot of blue remained. A beacon of light in a field of red.

"This city's great shield was powerful enough to withstand their terrible weapons, but here we were besieged for many years."

Suddenly the woman raised her hand, and the walls and ceiling of the room simply disappeared. Weir gasped as she spun around and found herself standing in the center of a large courtyard. Sumner and Sheppard had their weapons raised, while McKay and Beckett simply stared up in shock as a vast, dark shadow loomed above them. A massive alien ship was moving over the city, dark and angular and bristling with armor. Weir was breathing hard now, staring up into the face of an enemy so fierce that it had defeated the builders of the Stargates. Suddenly, a blast of light obliterated the courtyard. Someone yelled, and-

They were back in the room.

"In an effort to save the last of our kind," the hologram said, oblivious to her startled audience, "we submerged our great city beneath the ocean."

Sheppard shifted nervously. When Weir glanced over at him, he met her gaze with a somber shake of the head. This didn't bode well for their mission of peaceful exploration.

"The Atlantis Stargate was the one and only link back to Earth from this galaxy and those who remained used it to return to that world that was once home." The woman paused, ineffably sad and yet possessing a poise that Weir found herself envying. "There, the last survivors of Atlantis lived out the remainder of their lives. This city was left to slumber, in the hope that our kind would one day return."

And with that faint hope for the future, the hologram flickered into nothing and the room settled into a profound silence.

Typically, it was McKay who broke the moment. "So the story of Atlantis is true," he said, faintly disbelieving. "A great city that sunk into the ocean…"

"It just didn't happen on Earth," Beckett finished.

McKay was nodding, picking up the tag-team reasoning. "The Ancient Greeks must have heard it from one of the surviving Ancients."

Sumner grunted. "I don't like finding out they got their asses kicked."

Succinct, and to the point, Weir had to admit. She didn't like it either, not at all.

They all fell into silence again, disturbed only by Peter Grodin, who charged into the room and began whispering urgently to McKay. Weir tuned out their discussion, her mind full of other things. The story they'd just heard changed everything, it turned all expectations on their head. No longer a city of wonders and ancient knowledge beyond their understanding, Atlantis had become a ghost ship. The final refuge of an ancient civilization driven to extinction by an enemy so relentless that all their technology could not save them. An enemy who, for all Weir knew, was still out there, waiting in the shadows. She swallowed hard and was about to ask Sumner for his assessment when Beckett started to talk.

"It starts again in a minute," he said, nodding toward the empty dais. "She scared the hell out of me the first time."

Sure enough, after a moment there was a quiet hum and the Ancient woman reappeared.

"Stop!" McKay yelled suddenly. "Turn it off!"

Startled, Beckett jumped back from the dais and the hologram disappeared.

"Power levels throughout the city are dropping like a stone," McKay blurted, dashing for the door.

"What does that mean?" snapped Sumner, getting in before Weir had a chance to speak. Damn him.

McKay managed to look triumphant, resigned and scared as hell all at once. "That if we don't stop everything we're doing, right now, we're dead!"

Chapter Four

Don't panic, don't panic. You can fix this. You can fix this! The words rattled through Rodney McKay's head as he raced up the stairs and back to the control room. A bird's nest of wires and cables trailed across the floor, patching laptops and monitoring equipment into the Ancient technology. It was like strapping a steam train to the space shuttle, but it was the best they could do.

Grodin was ahead of him, his anxious face telling the whole story, and from behind McKay heard the thundering footsteps of Weir and her posse of jarheads.

"Please tell me this is not my fault." And Beckett, of course, with his constant whining…

"No," McKay snapped, staring at the screen in front of him and processing the data as fast as he could read. "From what we've been able to ascertain, the city is powered by three zero point modules. Two are entirely depleted, the third," he paused, double-checking the data, "the third is reaching maximum entropy. When it does, it will die too and nothing can reverse that." He liked stating the bald facts. The world looked better in black and white; ambiguity made it hard to think.

"Just give me the bottom line," Sumner barked.

McKay cast a swift glance at Weir, who was tight lipped and silent. Typical, a power struggle at the top was just what they needed when faced with imminent drowning. Swallowing a comment, he stalked over to the display screen and stabbed a finger at the relevant section. He'd long ago learned that, when dealing with the military, it was easier to show than tell. "The force field holding back the ocean has collapsed to the minimum sustainable level," he said shortly, indicating the red section of the city map. "You can see here.. and here.. where the shield has already failed and the city has flooded."

"Flooded?" echoed Weir, as if it was a surprise. What else did she think was going to happen in a sunken city?

"As in sea water," he snapped. "Could have happened years ago." Or last week. He glanced around the huge chamber in which they stood, the shimmering light from above suddenly claustrophobic. He struggled for a quick breath and pushed the thought out of his head. Focus, focus. "This section of the city is likely the most protected because of the Stargate, but-"

"If it fails completely?" John Sheppard was glancing around as if he expected to see the water already rising. He probably wouldn't have long to wait.

"That's a matter of when, not if.."

The Major accepted the news with apparent calm. At least, with more calm than McKay felt at the prospect of being drowned beneath five hundred feet of alien ocean.

Weir, however, seemed to take him seriously. "Colonel, you have to order your security teams to stop searching the city immediately. Everywhere we set foot, the lights and ventilation come on, and that draws more power."

Sumner keyed his radio. "All security teams fall back to the gate room."

It would be about as effective as sticking your finger in the dam when a tidal wave was approaching. "That's not going to be good enough."

"How much time do we have?" asked Weir.

"It's hard to say. Hours. Maybe days if we can minimize power expenditure."

Beckett piped up again. "What about our own power generators?"

"We're working on that." Though the steam train metaphor was applicable again. These people really had no idea what they were dealing with here! "Even with our most advanced naquadah-powered generators, the equations are coming up far short of-"

"Then we need to find more ZPMs," Weir interrupted, stating — in McKay's not-so-humble opinion — the blindingly obvious.

"How do we do that if we can't search the city?" Sumner pointed out.

It didn't matter anyway. McKay waved at the map. "If there were more here we'd be able to detect them." And didn't I already say there were only three ZPMs in the city?

"Can we use the Stargate?"

Oh for crying out- "No way near enough power to open a wormhole back to Earth!"

"Somewhere in this galaxy then?" Surprisingly, the suggestion was Sheppard's.

"That's relatively easy," McKay admitted. He cast half a glance at the Major, wondering if he needed to reassess the jarhead label. "The power requirement to travel within a galaxy is a fraction of what is required to gate between two separate galaxies."

Sheppard gave a lopsided smile. "Can gate anywhere in Pegasus, can't gate back to Earth."

"Yes, I said yes," McKay muttered. "Fortunately some Ancient technology uses good old-fashioned push buttons, and we've been able to access the Stargate control systems and a library of gate addresses in the database."

"That's not all," Grodin chimed in. "Look at this!" Before McKay could stop him, Grodin hit the button on the console next to him. A static fizz drew everyone's attention to the shimmering force shield that now covered the Stargate. Grodin smiled. "Just like the Iris on the Earth gate."

Oh, give me strength… "Using power, using power, using power!"

Grodin cast him a dark look and shut off the shield.

"At least we won't have to deal with any uninvited guests," Weir pointed out. McKay might have been wrong but he thought she was giving him a sympathetic look. But then she turned her attention to Sumner. "Colonel, assemble a team. We need to find safe harbor or, better still, another power source."

With a nod, Sumner strode from the room. A man on a mission. "Lieutenant Ford," he barked into his radio, "gather security teams one and two and gear up."

But McKay didn't miss the dismissive look the Colonel flung at Sheppard as he left, or the way the Major hung back and didn't follow. Weir too had noticed the exchange, and after a moment came to stand at Sheppard's side. "I'd like you to go along, Major," she said.

He looked awkward. "I wasn't invited."

"I give the orders here."

And hallelujah for that.

Sheppard paused, just for a moment, and that almost-smile was back. "Yes, ma'am."

Then he was gone, and Weir's attention returned to McKay. "All right," she said. "Pick an address and start dialing."

Just like pulling a lucky number from a hat. Trying not to over-think the incalculable and potentially devastating consequences of this random choice, McKay briefly consulted with Grodin. Pick one, look at the rest was his sound advice. So he did. Despite the situation, it was actually rather exciting.

McKay hit the first symbol. Unlike the Earth Stargate, this one didn't spin. But the lit symbol itself chased around the rim of the gate and locked at the top. Fascinating.

"Chevron one, encoded," McKay said. Because, well, it just sounded right.

"Rodney…" Apparently Weir didn't agree.

"Fine," he snapped, and quickly entered the rest of the sequence. The symbols spun so fast that, by the time he'd hit the last one on the Ancient DHD, it had locked on the gate and then-

With a whoosh, the Stargate was open to a new and utterly uncharted world.

Sheppard shifted his pack into a more comfortable position as he trailed Sumner and Ford into the gate room. The soft ocean light had been augmented by the iridescent glow of the Stargate, casting everything in shifting blue shadows. The two security teams were already there, just waiting for the order to move out, and the shimmer of the wormhole gave their faces an odd kind of pallor.

Colonel Sumner hadn't spoken a word to Sheppard since Weir had ordered him to join the mission, but the dark looks he'd shot in the Major's direction were eloquent enough; the Colonel was gonna make his life hell and not only because of the Afghanistan thing. Sheppard was no fool, and he could see the tension between Weir and Sumner. What bothered him — what sat like cold lead in his belly — was the fact that he'd become the pawn in their unspoken power struggle.

Just great.

On the plus side, Weir seemed to trust him. So at least he had one friend in the Pegasus galaxy…

He came to a stop in front of the gate, glanced up at the control room and noticed Weir watching them all with an unreadable expression on her narrow face. Was she frightened? She slightly lifted a hand in greeting. Sheppard acknowledged it with a nod and then turned toward the man who stood in front of the Stargate.

Peter Grodin was tall and dusky, with a cut-glass English accent. Next to him was a box of equipment, which Sheppard immediately recognized as night vision goggles. "The MALP reads full viability," Grodin was explaining, "and no immediate signs of activity around the Stargate, but it's pitch black."

Figures. McKay couldn't have chosen a planet with daylight? Sumner dug his hand into the equipment box and tossed a pair of goggles to Ford. He let Sheppard help himself. Subtle.

As John affixed his own goggles, Grodin kept talking, handing out something that looked like a TV remote. "For now," he said, "we're going to use the tried-and-true system for identification of inbound gate travelers." Sheppard turned the unfamiliar device over in his hand. Tried-and-true method… "Everyone know how to use one of these?" Grodin asked.

Reluctantly, Sheppard raised his hand. He deliberately didn't look at Sumner, but could sense the man's pleasure at this small display of ignorance. "Ali, I must've missed that in my briefing."

"It's a GDO."

Well, that cleared that up. "What's GDO stand for?"

Grodin hesitated before he answered, glancing around and then leaning in and speaking in a low voice. "Garage Door Opener, but don't tell anyone."

Sheppard grinned. That sounded like something O'Neill had come up with…

"It sends a radio signal back through the gate with your personal IDC, or identification code," Grodin went on in a louder voice. "Be sure to use it or the shield will remain closed and you…will…"

He trailed off, but Sheppard didn't need the description. "Like a mosquito zapper. Got it."

Abruptly, Sumner pushed past them, ending the conversation. He didn't look at anyone, eyes fixed on the gate. "Let's move out."

Tucking the GDO into his vest, Sheppard once more glanced up at Weir. She looked pale and worried in the blue light. It was the first time she'd ordered her people into harm's way, and that was a tough moment for anyone. Especially a civilian. Trying to reassure her, Sheppard offered her a thumbs-up. A ghost of a smile touched her lips, and with that he turned and followed Sumner, Ford and the two security teams through the Stargate.

The ride was as wild as ever, but a lot shorter than the trip from home. Almost before he knew it, he was stepping out the other side into a world of darkness. Every sense was on alert as his feet crunched on dead leaves and twigs. A forest. Through his goggles he could see trees, and the ghostly forms of the rest of the team crouching in the shadows.

In silence, Sumner signaled them to spread out, then move out. Still keeping low, Sheppard dodged to his right and kept on Sumner's six as they began to make their way through the dark forest.

Suddenly Sumner held up his fist and they all froze. Waiting. Listening… And there it was — a sound. It was close, and closing fast. Someone — or something — was crashing through the undergrowth. Visions of three-headed aliens crowded in, and Sheppard raised his weapon. We come in peace… Yeah, right. The sound was behind them now, and he turned, heart racing. There was more than one…

And there it was! A shadow darted out of the trees thirty yards ahead, a blur of dark on dark. Small, fast, and creepy. Sheppard signaled to Ford and they split up, circling to approach from opposite directions.

Alone in the woods, Sheppard's ears strained to hear over the rasp of his own breathing as he stalked through the undergrowth. A twig snapped somewhere ahead of him, the sound of a scuffle and a high-pitched scream echoed through the night. Sheppard started running.

In a small clearing up ahead he could make out Ford struggling to yank off his night-vision goggles while a short figure, the source of the scream, cowered before him. "Shh! It's okay," Ford was hissing urgently. "It's okay, I'm-"

Suddenly another shape barreled from the trees, dressed in long black robes and some kind of monstrous mask. It broadsided the screaming creature and knocked it flying.

"Please don't hurt us!" a small voice piped.

Ford was staring, stunned, and before he could react Sheppard slid into the clearing, weapon raised. "What we got?"

The robed creature reached up and pulled off its mask.

"It's just a kid," said Ford.

So much for the alien theory. It was a kid, a boy, maybe twelve years old, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes. Two kids, actually. The other one was picking himself up from the floor, clinging to his friend.

Suddenly, someone else rushed into the clearing — a man, who stopped short at the sight of Sheppard, Ford and their weapons. "Please!" he said, eyes darting nervously between the soldiers and the kids. "They were just playing."

Sheppard was about to reassure him, when the man froze. His eyes went wide with shock, and for a moment Sheppard expected something monstrous to storm the glade. But it was only Sumner, stalking forward with his weapon raised and aimed. "Everything okay, Sheppard?"

"Yessir," he answered quickly. "Couple of kids is all." He turned back to the man — the kids' father? "We're not here to hurt anyone." And then with a swift glance at Sumner's weapon, added, "Right, sir?"

For a moment the Colonel didn't move, eyes locked with Sheppard's. Another challenge… But after a moment he backed off, and John returned his attention to the stranger. He was about forty years old, hair like damp straw and a beard to match. His clothes were homespun and didn't seem to indicate anything approaching advanced technology. Sheppard wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. If they were looking for a ZPM, he doubted these people had one…

"I…" the man began hesitantly. "I am Halling."

Okay… Sheppard frowned and shifted apologetically. "I'm sorry, I don't understand."

Sumner looked like he could barely contain his irritation. "It's his name." You idiot, was the subtext.

Oh! "Hailing!" Sheppard repeated, ignoring Sumner's roll of the eyes. "Nice to meet you."

Halling examined them dubiously, taking in their weapons and uniforms. "Are you traders?"

"Sure," Sheppard agreed, casting a quick look at the Colonel to make sure. "Friendly neighborhood traders." It was as good a cover as any. If push came to shove, he could always trade his MREs…

It seemed to be the right answer, at least, because Halling was visibly relieved. With a smile he stepped forward and hauled both boys to their feet. One of them he took by the hands — a dark-haired, skinny kid with round eyes — and touched his forehead with his own.

"Jinto, how often have I told you not to play in the forest after dark?" Halling softened when the boy frowned, duly chastened. "But I am glad you are safe." He stood straight, still keeping one of the boy's hands in his. "Come," he said to Sheppard, glancing at Ford and Sumner to include them too, "Teyla will wish to meet with you."

Teyla being the boss, Sheppard assumed.

Without further invitation Halling turned and strode back into the trees, hauling the two children after him. As they left, Sheppard just caught Jinto's plaintive whisper to his friend. "Next time I get to be the Wraith…"

But Sumner didn't move, watching the guy leave with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Sir?" Sheppard was afraid they were going to lose them in the forest. "I think we're supposed to follow…"

"Sharp thinking, Sheppard," the Colonel growled. "Thank God you're here." Sheppard glared, but Sumner just turned away and keyed his radio. "Parker, Smitty, you're on gate duty. Dial Atlantis base and let the good doctor know we've made contact with the indigenous people."

The good doctor? Nice. Respectful.

Without another word, Sumner headed after Halling. Arrogant bastard. If he thought he could intimidate John Sheppard with his barbed comments and veiled disrespect to Weir, then he'd- A hand landed on his shoulder and Sheppard looked up to see Ford standing at his side. The lieutenant didn't say anything, but there was wisdom in the kid's eyes. Let it go, they said. And they were right. This time.

But, swear to God, if that patronizing SOB didn't get the hell off his ass Sheppard was gonna call him on it. And to hell with the chain of command; men like Sumner didn't deserve respect.

Colonel Marshall Sumner was not a happy man. Not only had he been saddled with a civilian woman as mission leader, but she had insisted — with her unsurpassed knowledge of how fighting units worked — on forcing him to take a loose cannon along for the ride.

Sumner didn't like Sheppard, and he didn't give a damn who knew it. Out here in the field, where your life and those of your team depended on following the goddamn order to the letter, you didn't need men like Sheppard. They were dangerous, they damaged unit morale and, frankly, they were irritating as hell. If he'd had his way, Sheppard would never have set foot through the gate. But all his objections had been overruled by the little doctor, and so he was lumbered with the jerk.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking-" The unexpected interruption came from Lieutenant Ford. Now there was a kid you could trust; there was a kid who'd go far. "I noticed you've got a problem with Major Sheppard."

Ten out of ten for observation. Sumner kept his eyes front, not wanting to lose sight of the man they were following through the trees. Halling. He looked like a peasant; Sumner didn't hold out much hope that these people would be able to offer any meaningful assistance. "My problem, Lieutenant," he said, "is with his record. I don't like people who don't respect the proper chain of command."

"Yessir," came the abrupt response, but there was a touch of surprise in it that Sumner found irritating. The other problem with men like Sheppard was that they were altogether too plausible, too charming… People trusted them when they had no cause to. In fact, people trusted them when they were the last people anyone should trust. Because they weren't team players. No, sir, not men like Sheppard.

Ford dropped back slightly, no doubt to rejoin the Major. Sumner let him go, but kept his ears open as they walked. Sheppard was talking with the two kids. Maybe he was enjoying the conversation of intellectual equals for a change, because it wasn't like they were gonna cough up any tactical info. Charm triumphing over substance again; Sheppard just liked the sound of his own voice.

"What was that mask you were wearing?" one of the boys asked. Jinto, Sumner remembered, Halling's son by the looks of him.

"It helps us see in the dark," Sheppard replied, handing it over. "Here, check it out." And there goes $20,000 of tax payers' money…

"Wow!" came the awed response, followed by the whines of the other child.

"Let me see…"

Like the toy it wasn't, Sheppard allowed his equipment to be passed between the kids. So help him, if they broke it…

"Can I have it?" the other boy asked.

"Nope," came the Major's answer. At least he had that much sense. "So, what were you all dressed up as?"

"Wraith," the kid answered. And that was the second time Sumner had heard that name. Did he mean ghost?

"Wraith?" Sheppard repeated. "What's that?"

Jinto seemed astonished. "You don't know?"

"What world do you come from?" the other asked, equally amazed.

Sheppard hesitated. "Actually," he said slowly, "we come from a galaxy far, far away…"

Ha-ha. Fortunately Sumner's attention was dis tracted from Sheppard's lame humor by the fact that the trees around them were thinning, and ahead he could see the first signs of civilization. If that was the right word. Torches glittered like gold in the thin predawn light, giving just enough illumination to reveal some kind of shantytown. It was far from permanent, just a collection of tents and sketchy huts that looked as if a stiff breeze would reduce them to matchsticks. The air was thick with wood smoke and the stench of unwashed people and animals. A few of the locals drifted between the tents, as ragged as the settlement itself, eyeing the strangers with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

Sumner sensed no threat from these people, but they weren't what he needed. There was no technology here, no weapons, nothing they could use. Mission failure; the sooner they got back to the gate, the better.

Disappointed, he turned to Sheppard. The man was gazing at the ragtag camp with interest, taking it all in as if the entire dung heap were an object of fascination. It only irritated Sumner more. This wasn't why they were here; Atlantis was drowning, the entire mission was on the point of failure, and Sheppard was ogling the natives.

"These people don't have anything we need," Sumner growled, keeping his voice down. "This is a waste of time."

Sheppard just smiled. Right then, the Colonel could have punched his lights out.

The hour was early, and sleep was just releasing its hold on the mind of Teyla Emmagan as she sat drinking tea and thinking of the day to come. It would soon be time to move their encampment to the summer pastures, but Toran had warned her only yesterday that the river still flowed too high. Yet the days were pressing on, and the need to move became more urgent daily. Perhaps they could take the north route, if the snows had cleared? The air, even here in the forest, was still cold, but soon-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a commotion at the door of the yurt as Hailing ducked inside, followed by four exotic-looking travelers. Immediately he came to her and murmured, "These men are traders.

With a nod, Teyla rose and slowly approached the newcomers. They were well armed and in a fashion she had not seen before. Their clothing was unusual and she could not help but notice that they carried little to trade, unless they planned to trade their wits.

At her approach one of the men pulled off his hat and offered a smile. "Nice to meet you," he said. He spoke with a lilt to his accent that was as unfamiliar as his clothing, but there was a warmth in his eyes that spoke of honesty.

"I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan," she began, introducing herself formally, as was proper. Any further words were forestalled by the interruption of another of their party.

"Is your father available to meet with us?"

The man who had spoken possessed a hard face, and he looked at her as if she were a child at her mother's knee. Teyla bristled; she had not been treated with such disrespect since she had grown to womanhood. "He is dead," she told him coldly. "You may speak with me."

The man appeared uncomfortable for a moment and exchanged a look with his friendlier companion. "Very well," he said, although his voice did not warm. Then, indicating himself, he said, "Colonel Marshall Sumner." He vaguely nodded toward the other two men, "Lieutenant Alden Ford, Major John Sheppard." He paused briefly, "We have a very few specific needs-"

One of which was manners. "We do not trade with strangers."

"Is that a fact."

Behind her, Teyla could sense Toran's outrage; this man — Colonel Marshall Sumner — gave offense to all her people with his brash, forward demands. She was about to order them removed from the yurt when the other man spoke again.

"Then we'll just have to get to know each other." He smiled, and Teyla found her temper cooling. Major John Sheppard, he had been called. It was a strange name. "Me," he said, when she did not answer, "I like Ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than two hundred miles an hour."

His meaning was entirely lost to her, but his intention was not. The warmth she had sensed was not feigned. Despite the ill manners of their leader, this man showed respect and an honest desire for friend ship.

"Sir?" the third man spoke. He was younger, clearly subordinate. "That's not going to mean anything-"

"Feel free to speak up," Major John Sheppard whispered. "I'm just tryin' to break the ice here."

"If they can't help us," Colonel Marshall Sumner cut in, as rude to his people as to her own, "I'd rather not waste our time."

Or ours. She considered the strangers for a moment longer, curious enough now to know more of these people. That they were not traders she was certain, and she believed it to be in the best interest of her people to find out more. "Each morning before dawn," she said, directing her words at Major John Sheppard, "our people drink a stout tea to brace us for the coming day." She hesitated, glancing between him and his leader. But the decision had been made. "Will you join us?"

"I love a good cup of tea," Sheppard enthused. And then, with a genuine smile, added, "There, that's something else you know about me. We're practically friends already."

It was not hard to believe that he meant his words, and Teyla was unable to keep from smiling as she led him to the table. Her father had often warned her not to be deceived by the charm of strangers, and she told herself she would be wary. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the other man — Colonel Marshall Sumner — shake his head in disapproval. If she had not cause already for caution, the obvious distrust between the travelers would keep her on her guard.

But Teyla Emmagan had long ago learned not to waste the chance to make friends, in whatever form they came. In a world haunted by death, only a fool turned her back on new allies.

Chapter Five

The local tea tasted sweet and spicy, its aroma filling the whole tent with a warmth that was oddly comforting. Sumner had left to check out the area a couple of minutes earlier, and the atmosphere among the locals had lightened considerably in his absence. Considering they really were in a galaxy far, far away, John Sheppard was astonished at the sense of ease he felt among these people. Sure they were different to your Average Joe, but the differences were superficial, and he could see an openness in their eyes that marked them as potential friends and allies. He saw this especially in Teyla Emmagan, who watched him with a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and humor. He liked her already.

All of which made his blatant lie about their intentions harder to maintain. Traders? Yeah, right. The pitiful collection of routine equipment he and Ford had laid out for inspection gave them away, and he was beginning to feel more than embarrassed by Ford's lame attempts at selling the wonders of their equipment.

"This here's called a Swiss Army Knife," he explained, picking up the knife and pulling out one of its blades. "You can cut with it, and there's a little nail file, and scissors-"

Teyla was clearly unconvinced and interrupted the sales pitch. "What is this?" she asked, pointing at one of their ration bars.

"Oh, that's called a power bar," Ford enthused, glancing at Sheppard with a glint in his eye. "It gives you power." He held it out to Teyla, who seemed impressed as she studied the silver wrapping.

It gives you power? Oh please. Irritated, Sheppard snatched the bar out of Ford's hand and flung him an angry look. "It's just food, ma'am," he told Teyla curtly, "that's all it is. Here, try it if you like."

Teyla took the bar and sniffed at it, her nose wrinkling. He didn't blame her. They weren't called emergency rations for nothing. Her dark gaze drifted toward her companion — Toran — and for a moment they exchanged an unreadable look.

"I do not believe they are traders," Toran said after a moment.

Sheppard gave him ten-out-of-ten for observation; their traveling salesman act wasn't fooling anybody. He was about to offer an explanation when Colonel Sumner ducked back under the tent flap, glancing around the room with obvious disdain before eyeballing Sheppard and making his way over. "Sorry to break up the party, kids," he drawled, barely looking at Teyla as he spoke. "Sheppard, there are some ruins down in the valley that look more promising than anything these folks have to offer. Plenty of shelter, nice little valley…"

"No one has lived there for many generations," Teyla interrupted, chin lifting.

Sumner swung his gaze down to her. "Why not?"

"The city of the Ancestors is not safe." It was Toran who spoke, his irritation evident, his tone cold and clipped.

"We can handle ourselves."

"The Wraith will come." There was real fear in the man's voice, a cold dread that ran icy fingers up Sheppard's spine.

"And there's that word again," he said quietly, aiming the comment at Sumner.

The Colonel took the hint, although without much interest. "Who are these Wraith?"

Teyla and Toran just stared at them in silence, as if they'd asked who was Santa Claus. Sheppard glanced over at Ford and the kid offered a slight shrug.

Cautiously, Teyla said, "We have never met anyone who did not know."

"You have now," Sumner told her.

Her expression was a mix of envy and disbelief. "If the Wraith have never touched your world," she said quietly, "you should go back there."

The icy chill running up Sheppard's spine turned into a fully-fledged shiver.

"We'd like to," Sumner said coldly, "but we can't." He paused for a beat, considering how much to reveal. "Look, here's the thing, ma'am. We've got ourselves into a bit of a bind, and we may need a safe place to stay for a while."

Teyla accepted the information without comment, but her open features were clouded with uncertainty. "Our people have long believed that the Wraith will come if we venture into the old city," she said cautiously. And then, with more determination, "But it is a belief we've not tested in some time."

Sumner didn't answer, his eyes falling on Sheppard. "Gentlemen…" Without further comment, he ducked back outside. Sheppard flung an apologetic smile at Teyla, who nodded slightly, before he followed Ford out of the tent.

The Colonel was waiting for them, glancing around the waking village with thinly disguised contempt. "Look, I don't care what they say," he said in a low voice. "That city is worth a look. Not to mention the possibility that there could be ZPMs there that these people don't know or care about."

His attitude was familiar; Sheppard had seen it a dozen times in various parts of the world. It was so easy to dismiss the beliefs and experiences of a primitive' people and to rely on the firepower of a dozen P90s instead. Sumner needed to wake up; they weren't in Kansas anymore. Or even Afghanistan. "What if these Wraith are the enemy that Ancient hologram lady was talking about?"

"All the more reason we need a defensible position should we have to abandon Atlantis," Sumner said. So much for listening to local intel… "Stay here and find out what you can. Ford, you head back to the gate and report in to Weir. Tell her we'll have an answer for her in a few hours."

With that Sumner strode off through the ragged encampment to join the two security teams. Sheppard watched him for a moment, watched the over confident swagger, the clipped orders as the Colonel gestured toward the city, and couldn't shake the feeling that they were making a huge mistake. Sumner was treating this as just another mission, but he was a fool. This was a new world — a new galaxy — and they had no idea, no idea at all, what they were getting into.

With a sigh, he turned away and headed back toward the tent. At least with Sumner out of the way he might get further with Teyla. While the Colonel was busy looking for things to help them, Sheppard had a feeling that allies would ultimately be of greater use. They needed a guide, someone who could help them make sense of this galaxy in which they found themselves, and right now Teyla Emmagan and her people were their best shot.

So, taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, he pushed past the flap and back into the tent. Teyla and Toran were talking quietly, but stopped as he entered to watch him cautiously. "Well," he said, "I guess it's just you and me…" Then, with a glance at Toran, he added, "and him."

Teyla ignored his attempt at humor and said, "Your leader looks through me as if I were not there."

She was right. He cocked his head. "Do I?"

"No." After a beat she added, "You truly cannot return to your world?"

"No."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Then there is something you should see…"

The something turned out to be quite a hike from the village. The forest was dense and foot-tangling, and Teyla weaved her way through it with the grace of a predator. If necessary, Sheppard imagined, she could disappear into the forest like mist on a hot day. She never put a foot wrong, never tripped or stumbled, and was consistently a couple of paces ahead of him. He had the feeling she was deliberately slowing her pace, but it was fast enough and he found himself breathing hard. Should've spent more time at the gym… "How far is this place?" he gasped at last, struggling up a hill after Teyla.

"Not far," she called back.

"Define `far'."

She turned at that, smiled, and with a raised eyebrow handed him back his power bar. "Here."

He grinned. She had a sense of humor; he liked that. Ripping open the wrapper, he offered her half the bar. But perhaps the scent of artificial lemon flavoring had already reached her, because she grimaced and pulled a piece of fruit from the satchel slung across her shoulder and took a bite. Truth be told, she had the right idea. In a silence that grew increasingly companionable they kept walking through the trees until, at last, he saw a short wall of rock ahead of them.

"In here?" he asked as they drew nearer.

Teyla stopped and nodded, but her eyes were fixed on the craggy rock face. The sandy colored stone was broken in sharp angles, and vines and other forest life spread across much of the escarpment. A narrow, barely visible path sliced through the dense under growth, and without word Teyla led the way along the trail. "I have not come here for many years," she told him quietly.

He followed and after a moment saw a low, narrow doorway that had been cut into the rock. It seemed to have been a natural cave that had been widened and squared off, now hidden behind the brush. Teyla pushed her way past, inviting him to join her with a look as she stepped through the entrance and disappeared into the dark. Sheppard hesitated. There could, literally, be anything inside the cave and entering it without backup was probably pretty dumb. Sure, he trusted Teyla — but tactically speaking…

Tactically speaking it came down to trust. Did he trust Teyla? Truth was he did. His gut told him that she and her people were trustworthy, and if they were ever going to make friends here, they'd better start with a little trust. It was all give and take; if he trusted Teyla, she'd be more inclined to trust him. Sumner might have his ass for breaching protocol, but he had ordered him to find out everything he could…

Taking a deep breath, Sheppard decided to choose trust over suspicion and, keeping his weapon at the ready, headed into the cave after Teyla.

"I used to play in here as a child," she said. If she'd noticed his hesitation, she didn't comment. "I believe it's where the survivors hid from the Wraith during the last great attack."

The only illumination came from the flashlight on Sheppard's P90. It cast harsh shadows about the small room, bouncing off rough-hewn stone and dust. The air was stale and cold. He still didn't know who these Wraith were, but he could imagine the fear of the survivors hiding in this dank cave and waiting to be discovered. He could almost taste the tang of desperation in the air.

Apparently unaffected by the ghosts of her own people, Teyla had found an old torch; clearly these folks had no power beyond fire. But the warmth of its light would be welcome in this forbidding place, and so Sheppard reached into his vest for a lighter. He couldn't help thinking that he might impress her at last with his ability to instantly create fire. "Here," he offered, "let me-"

Teyla smiled that dry smile of hers. "We mastered fire long ago," she said, pulling out what looked like a penlight. With a flick of her thumb, a scarlet laser zapped out and onto the torch, which lit instantly.

"I can see that." So much for impressing her…

Still smiling, Teyla offered him the device. Too bad they weren't here to trade, this would be handy on a- Suddenly something caught his attention, something glowing half-buried beneath a decade of dust. Reaching down, he pulled a dainty necklace from the dirt. "What's this?"

"I lost it years ago," Teyla gasped softly. "How did you…?"

"Caught my eye. Must have reflected the torchlight." He noticed Teyla's look of genuine delight, and because he'd been raised to be a gentleman he held out the necklace and said, "May I?"

Her smile deepened, and she turned around, sweep ing her hair up to allow him to fasten the clasp. It really was the gentlemanly thing to do, he reminded himself, trying not to pay too much attention to the elegant sweep of her neck. Instead he focused his eyes on the- "Whoa," he breathed. "Someone's been busy."

The wall ahead of them was covered in pictures. At first glance they looked like the scratchings of a child, until you looked more deeply and understood the images. They were no innocent childhood sketches, but the brutal history of a people.

"The drawings in the caves are extensive," Teyla said quietly, moving away from him and bringing the light of the torch closer to the pictures. "Many must date back thousands of years or more."

Thousands of years? Sheppard joined her at the wall, running his fingers over an image that seemed to depict the annihilation of a vast city. He could see people screaming, running, and what looked like some kind of energy weapon sweeping the city itself. "This represents the destruction of your city?"

Teyla shook her head. "This drawing far predates that."

"Then…what?" It made no sense. "Someone knew it was going to happen?" This was beginning to sound more and more like science fiction.

"No," Teyla said, turning to face him. In the flickering light of the torch her dark eyes shone brightly, at once sad, proud and resilient. "I believe it happens again and again. The Wraith allow our kind to grow in number, and when that number reaches a certain point they return to cull their human herd."

Herd? Human herd? There was no question in his mind now, these had to be the terrible enemy the Ancient hologram had described. And they were still out here…

"Sometimes a few hundred years will pass before they awaken again, sometimes it is even longer…" Teyla added. "But the end is always the same."

Sheppard's eyes locked on the picture, on the crudely scratched images of dying men, women and children. He felt cold, and not just from the chill of the cave. "Why don't you go somewhere else?" he asked at last, knowing it must be a stupid question. If they could, they would. Right?

"We have visited many, many worlds," Teyla sighed. "I know of none untouched by the Wraith." For a moment she eyed him strangely, then added in a different tone, "The last great holocaust was five generations ago but still they return in smaller numbers, to remind us of their power. My mother was taken three years ago."

Her mother. "Hell of a way to live."

She shrugged. "We move our hunting camps around. We try to teach our children not to live in fear, but it is hard."

Hard didn't even begin to describe it. These people lived with the certain knowledge of a holocaust hovering above their heads every day of every year; their children grew up knowing that their entire world could be wiped out at any time. That wasn't living — that was nothing but surviving.

"Some of us can sense the Wraith coming, that gives us warning," Teyla added more brightly. Then, glancing toward the entrance to the cave, she added, "We should go, it'll be dark soon."

Huh? "The sun just came up six hours ago," Sheppard protested. But when Teyla cast him a curious look and he grimaced at his own ignorance. Ah, right… "Alien planet."

Flashing another of her half-bemused, half-amused smiles Teyla simply led the way back to the entrance. This time Sheppard didn't hesitate to follow her, but as he watched the drawings fade back into darkness he couldn't prevent a shiver from racing up his spine.

This enemy — these Wraith — were out there, and dollars to donuts they had their eye on Atlantis…

It felt as though everyone was holding their breath. No one was moving, everyone was talking in hushed tones, as if even their voices might drain more of the precious power that kept the ocean at bay. Or perhaps everyone was listening for the first signs of trouble, a creak or groan as the city began to drown in earnest.

Shaking herself, Elizabeth Weir banished the dismal thoughts and fixed her eyes more determinedly on the silent Stargate. They'd heard nothing since Lieutenant Ford's last communication; Sumner's team had made contact with the locals and would soon be able to determine if they'd found themselves a lifeboat. But Weir was beginning to worry that if they didn't get back soon she would run out of time to explore other options. Weir was sure they'd find sanctuary somewhere out there, but what were the odds of it being on the very first world they visited? Slim, to say the least. And yet with the clock ticking they might have no choice. Beggars, as the saying went, could not be choosers.

That it should come to this… To find exactly what they'd dreamed of, and then to be forced to give it up within hours of arrival. How could she let that happen? Not for the first time since she'd stepped through the Stargate, Weir found herself wondering if someone else — Dr. Jackson, perhaps — would have been a better choice for mission leader. Someone with tactical experience, someone who might have some clue of what to do right now…

Behind her she heard footsteps slowing. She recognized them as Dr. McKay's and turned to face him. While second-guessing herself was all well and good, she had an absolute duty to keep her worries to herself. These people deserved a leader, and that's exactly what she'd give them.

McKay stood outside the small room where Weir had retreated, and was watching her with a somber face. At his side stood Dr. Grodin, equally grim.

"Tell me some good news, Rodney," she said quietly.

He shrugged slightly and stepped into the room. "I can't do that."

And he wasn't going to soft-soap it either, she liked that.

"We've successfully managed to interface two auxiliary generators," Grodin offered, without great conviction, "but it's nowhere near enough."

Damn it. "This shield has held back the ocean for centuries-"

"And probably would have kept going for years more," McKay cut in, "but our arrival changed that. Now it's nothing more than a thin shell between the buildings and the water."

"We stopped all exploring-"

"The damage was already done," he snapped. "Another section on the far side of the city flooded an hour or so ago."

"Even occupying this room is draining power," Grodin added.

We came, we saw, we destroyed…

McKay shifted nervously, his gaze flitting between her and the gate, as if he dreaded what he had to say next. "We need to evacuate the moment Colonel Sumner reports back it's safe."

His words hung in the air for a long, heavy moment. At last Weir spoke, "You're saying we have to abandon the city-"

"The sooner we leave, the longer that shield will hold."

Grodin sighed heavily. "We'll have come all this way for nothing."

"Not if we find a solution out there," said McKay, his eyes once more fixed on the Stargate. For all his irritability and frustrations, he at least was looking at the silver lining. There was still hope. While they were alive, there was still hope.

Abruptly a tremor rippled through the floor, forcing Weir to grab at the wall to keep from losing her balance. Her eyes locked briefly with McKay's, who looked frightened but determined.

"I agree," she said firmly. "It will only be for nothing if we die along with this city."

She wasn't going to let that happen. Whatever else she did, she'd get her people out, and then, together, they'd find a way to reclaim this city. However long it took…

Lieutenant Ford had to check his watch twice. Yup, he'd watched the sun rise six hours ago, and now it was falling beneath the horizon as fast as the New Year's Eve Ball on Times Square. He glanced over at Parker and Smitty, who stood with him near the Stargate. "Man the days are short here."

Parker was about to reply when Ford's radio squawked and Colonel Sumner's voice barked into his ear. "Major Sheppard, this is Colonel Sumner, come in.

No answer. After a moment Ford keyed his own radio. "Colonel, this is Lieutenant Ford. Major Sheppard is out of radio range at the moment."

Sumner paused; Ford could swear he heard cussing through the static. Eventually the Colonel's voice came back. "Where the hell is he?"

Oh, this wasn't going to go down well. "Teyla wanted him to see something-"

Without warning the Stargate burst into life, the symbols lighting in a rapid sequence, faster than any thing Ford had seen on the Earth gate. "Take cover," he ordered his men, dropping into a crouch. Then, to Sumner, "Colonel, we have gate activity here."

Keeping his weapon fixed firmly on the Stargate, Ford ducked behind a fallen tree. Smitty and Parker were to his left. Within seconds the event horizon surged out into the gloom, then settled into the familiar puddle. Perhaps Dr. Weir had needed to evacuate- He didn't even have time to finish the thought before a black ship, glistening like oil, exploded from the gate. It sliced through the air with a scream, deadly and pointed like a bayonet.

A gunshot of adrenaline flared in Ford's chest. He trailed the ship with his weapon, directly overhead and then off toward Teyla's village. A second and third ship followed, as if being spat from the gate, all tearing in the direction of the settlement. "Colonel," he yelled into his radio, "three bandits, headed your way!"

When the sun decides to set around here, it sets fast. Sheppard blew out an irritated sigh, squinting through the gloom as he and Teyla picked their way through the forest. The journey that had been long and laborious in daylight was twice as difficult in pitch darkness, and he'd already found himself facedown in the dirt once. He could swear the tree roots were actually reaching up and snagging his ankles on purpose, because falling over was usually something he reserved for the times when he'd had one too many tequila shots. And he knew how to hold his drink, so it was pretty rare that he-

Teyla stopped so sharply he almost crashed into her. She remained dead silent, head cocked, and stared blindly into the night.

"What is it?" he whispered, feeling unease tingle across his skin.

At first she didn't answer, but eventually she turned to look at him. Her face was pale, angry and afraid. When she spoke, her voice was harsh. "The Wraith."

And with that she started running, racing through the night as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. Perhaps, Sheppard thought as he bolted after her, they really were…

Chapter Six

In the settlement, panic erupted quietly. Men, women and children sprinted through the night, here and there the cries of a sobbing child carrying over the pounding of their feet as the entire population fled toward the tree line. This was a people used to terror, a people who understood the value of silence.

No moonlight cut the darkness and most of the torches and fires in the settlement had been doused by the fleeing villagers. These folks knew what they were doing. Above, the alien stars glittered coldly and Colonel Sumner cocked his head to listen as a faint hum, like a wasp, drifted through the air. Engine noise.

"Take cover," he ordered his men, lifting his weapon to the stars. "And stay sharp."

Around him his team settled into strategic defensive positions. With satisfaction, he noticed a couple of M160 rocket launchers making their appearance. Whoever these `Wraith' were, Sumner doubted they'd be a match for the US Marine Corps.

P90 braced against his shoulder, Sumner kept his eyes locked on the sky. The hum was louder now, more of a whine. People were still running, order beginning to break down. He heard someone wail, somebody else cry out. The enemy was upon them. With a scream of engines a black shape, like an arrow tip, ripped across the treetops, followed by a second and third. Swooping back and forth over the settlement, it was if they were searching for something. Suddenly, from between the tents, a man stumbled forward. Sumner recognized him as Halling, the father of the kid they'd discovered in the trees. Halling's eyes were wild, and he was grabbing at the fleeing settlers. "Have you seen Jinto? Jinto!" He was desperate.

Overhead one of the enemy ships made a second pass, coming in low right behind Hailing and the rest of the stragglers. Sumner braced himself for weapons fire, but none came. Instead a wide bright beam flared from the underside of the ship and swept across the ground like a searchlight. Hailing was running now, desperation replaced by stark terror. But he and the others were too slow, they couldn't reach the trees. The beam trapped them and-

Holy crap. They were gone. Just disappeared as if the light had disintegrated them or scooped them up into the ship.

"Fire on that target!" Sumner yelled, squeezing the trigger and pumping half a clip into the ship. Might as well have been using a pop-gun for all the good it did. The ship turned for another pass, the other two wings joining in an intricate pattern that raced across the ground and scooped up anyone in their path. They were harvesting these people…

From the corner of his eye, Sumner saw movement. He spun around, just in time to see a shadow flicker between two tents. It looked like a man, but moved faster than any human. Unnaturally fast. His breath coming short and sharp, Sumner took a step forward, finger tight on the trigger. Come on you sonofabitch, show yourself.

And there it was again, another shadow flitting through the night. He spun and fired. At thin air…

Sheppard could barely keep up, Teyla was little more than a shadow in the night, racing through the trees like a leopard on the hunt. "Teyla!" he hissed, not wanting to shout. "Wait!"

In the distance he heard a burst of gunfire, then another. His radio hissed static, and Bates' panicked voice crackled into his ear. "Colonel, they're on the ground. They're all around us!"

More gunfire, wild now. Desperate. Shit. Suddenly something huge, with a glowing underside, passed directly overhead. Sheppard hit the dirt, this time on purpose, as the ship streaked overhead barely clearing the treetops. Cautiously he climbed to his feet, then froze. Something was in the trees. A shadow, moving too fast to be human. Blood pounding in his ears, Sheppard raised his weapon and held it steady. They're all around us! Crap. A sound, like the rasp of dead leaves scraping together, whispered through the forest. It almost sounded like voices, unintelligible and malevolent. "Teyla?" His mouth was dry, his throat scratchy.

Another sound, this time right behind him. He turned, almost fired. Nothing there! Damn it. A movement, on his left. A shadow, half-seen, vanishing like smoke when he turned toward it. What the hell was this? Something cold brushed his cheek, he spun around, and it was right in front of him. A ghost, black on black, looming like death. With a cry he opened fire and the shadow melted like morning mist. Like it had never been there.

He felt breathless, hands clammy. He couldn't fight shadows!

A twig snapped behind him. His finger squeezed the trigger as he jerked toward the sound, his weapon raised and aimed at- "Teyla…"

She looked solid and real and grim as hell. "They aren't really there."

"What?" It came out a rasp.

"Don't trust your eyes!" she insisted, pushing down the barrel of his gun with one hand. "The Wraith can make you see things that aren't there." Then she was moving again, back into the trees. "This way!"

Mind games? Holy hell. Blinking a couple of times, shaking it off, Sheppard raced after her into the forest. This was a whole new ballgame, and he was beginning to realize that his team didn't even know the rules — let alone have a winning play. They were in so far over their heads it wasn't even funny.

It was all going to hell! They were everywhere, all around. Shadows on shadows, whispering and hissing as they drew closer, their cold, clawing hands itching for his throat. Sumner let loose another vol ley, but it did no good. What use were bullets against phantoms?

Fire engulfed the tents, casting ruddy light and dancing black shadows into the night. The Wraith ships hovered like vultures, narrow energy beams scorching into the dirt. Sumner had lost track of his men, didn't know who was still alive. Not that it mattered, they were all going down. There were just too many of the sonsofbitches, too many ghosts, too many-

"Colonel!" Sheppard's voice crackled over the radio. "What you see on the ground is just an illusion! Concentrate your fire on the ships!"

Illusion… Sumner squeezed his eyes shut, just for a moment. Illusion. Okay, okay…

When his eyes snapped open, he saw the world anew. Saw the burning tents, the charred bodies, the white sweep of the Wraith beam punctured by the searing blasts of their energy weapon. And through it all he saw Bates, an M160 perched on his shoulder, frozen with panic as he stared into the night.

Breaking cover, Sumner ran to the man. "Bates!" he yelled in his face. "Snap out of it."

Wide-eyed, pale and terrified, Bates whispered, "They're everywhere, sir!"

Screw that. He jerked his thumb at the Wraith ship screaming overhead. "Take that thing down!"

With a visible jolt, Bates pulled himself together, lifted the rocket launcher and fired at the enemy. It was a good shot, the Wraith ship exploded in a bright fireball and fell out of the sky.

"That's one," Sumner grinned. "Let's-"

The world disappeared in a blinding flash of white that incinerated all thought and feeling… Then everything went black.

At last the trees gave way to open land. In the distance, across a field, Sheppard could see the burning remains of Teyla's settlement — and something else. Looked like Sumner had taken down one of the Wraith ships. Darts, Teyla had called them. Wraith Darts. It was a-

Behind them streaked the sudden whine of engines and he turned. Another Dart was diving in, its oily surface a patch of black against the night sky. It was hunting them. "Get down!" Sheppard yelled, as a broad white beam sliced toward them. He flung himself to the right, hitting the ground and jolting the air from his lungs. Gasping, he watched the light sweep past him as the ship banked hard, screaming up into the sky.

Pushing himself to his feet, he looked around frantically. "Teyla?" But she was gone. Not dead, just gone. They'd taken her. The bastards had taken her.

"Sir?" Stackhouse's voice came over the radio. He sounded shaken. "The Colonel's been taken!"

Damn it! Damn it to hell. Acknowledging the report, Sheppard started jogging toward the settlement. This was bad. Very bad, and getting worse. With Sumner gone, he was the ranking military officer. Which meant he needed a plan. He needed to find them a way out of this mess, but with Atlantis sinking where the hell were they supposed to go?

Before he could think of a single option, his radio squawked again. "Sir!" It was Ford. "The gate just came on again. Two enemy ships are approaching."

Going home with their prize? "Let them go!" he ordered. "There are friendlies on board." And then he had an idea. "Look at the dialing device! Burn those symbols into your mind!"

"Yes sir!" Ford sounded confident, and Sheppard liked that. He was just a kid, but he had potential. He'd remember. If he didn't, the odds of getting Sumner and Teyla back would be virtually nil…

Forcing that thought out of his head, Sheppard kept running, the burning village a beacon in the dark. It was eerily silent now, as if even the forest were holding its breath. Waiting for another attack. But none came. When he reached the edge of the settlement, Sheppard slowed. He was breathing hard, spent. Without much hope he keyed his radio. "Colonel Sumner."

No response.

Still catching his breath, he moved towards the wreck of the Wraith Dart. There wasn't much left of it beyond a scorched furrow in the soft earth and a tangled knot of burning metal. He stopped well clear, instinctively raising his weapon. Even like this, the thing seemed to exude an aura of unadulterated evil. He could feel it like a chill in the air, the stench of death. Nose flaring in disgust, he circled the wreck until he saw a slight movement in the twisted metal. His finger tightened on the trigger and he took a step closer, peering through the gloom until he saw" Son of a…" It was an arm, green-tinted skin with huge, claw-like fingers. And it was moving. What made it particularly gross was the fact that the arm was no longer attached to a body.

Sheppard shivered with revulsion and fired a short burst into the thing. It jerked, shuddered, and eventually lay still. He actually felt sick to his stomach: what the hell were these things?

A sound behind him made him jump, but when he turned he realized it was just the villagers slowly emerging from the forest. They were staring at him and the fallen Dart with bleak eyes; there was no triumph here, only weary resignation. Suddenly he sensed someone watching him and turned to see the kid, Jinto, step out from behind one of the trees. His face was almost white in the starlight, his eyes round and frightened. In a very small voice he said, "I can't find my father."

It was enough to break anyone's heart. Having no answer and refusing to lie to the kid, Sheppard just reached out and ruffled Jinto's hair, pulling him close and wrapping an arm around his skinny shoulders. Everywhere the survivors were spilling from the trees, standing and staring in shock at the remains of their homes. A few clung together, others were crouched in the dirt, silently weeping for the lost.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do?

Atlantis spread out below her, misty through the clear water. And beautiful. Elizabeth Weir thought it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, the poignancy of its imminent death only adding to her sense of the city's perfection. They were witnessing the end of days, the passing of a lost greatness they would never be able to retrieve. It was melancholy beyond belief.

At her side, Peter Grodin shifted. She'd found him standing here, staring out the window, on her way to check on the situation in the control room, and she had paused at his side for a moment. He looked as hopeless as she felt. "Here it comes," he said quietly.

"What am I looking for?"

Through the window she suddenly saw a ripple race across the surface of the force shield that was covering a distant spire. A slow rumble followed, shaking the floor beneath her feet, and in the distance she saw air bubbles rise from the windows of the flooding tower.

"There…" Grodin said bleakly. "Another part of the force field just failed." He'd given up. "I don't think we have much time."

It was too easy to give up. Moving away, she began to climb the stairs to the control room. Half way up, she looked back at him. "Maybe," she said quietly, "you should stop looking out of the window."

Grodin started at the gentle reprimand, and she felt a flicker of guilt. She hadn't meant the words for him alone. Softening the comment with a smile, she nodded toward the stairs, inviting him to follow.

"How are we doing?" she asked, the moment she stepped into the control room. McKay was there, buzzing between two monitors, harassed as always. She guessed he had reason. But his answer was a shake of the head. They were fighting a losing battle, and they both knew it. "If we could just buy ourselves another day, maybe-"

"The city is sacrificing parts of itself to sustain these main areas," he snapped. "But catastrophic failure is inevitable."

Inevitable? Unbelievable, more likely. "Not in my wildest dreams," she sighed, "did I hope to find the lost city of the Ancients so completely untouched, so pristine after all this time." Talk about bitter ironies… "And we have no choice but to walk away from it."

"In order to save it," McKay pointed out curtly.

"Save it for whom?" she countered, feeling Peter Grodin's defeatism descending around her again. "We don't even have the power to send a message! As far as Earth is concerned we'll be missing and presumed lost."

McKay's attention was still fixed on the monitors, but he wasn't giving up. "We'll be back," he asserted. "We'll find another power source somewhere in Pegasus."

"We haven't even heard back from Colonel Sumner," she pointed out grimly. "We don't even know what's out there."

McKay stopped his frenetic pacing and looked at her. For a moment he didn't speak, and she found herself impressed by this man's calm. Of them all, he was the only one not letting this defeat him. "We can't wait," he said simply. "It's time to go. Now."

She nodded. He was right, she knew he was right, but it was the very last thing she wanted to do. Gritting her teeth against a cold sense of defeat, she gazed out over the gate room that had been theirs for so short a time and keyed her radio. "Attention all personnel," she began. "This is Weir…"

Suddenly the entire room started to shake. Really shake. And this time it didn't stop. Holding onto the balcony rail for support, she carried on speaking, keeping her voice even despite the oscillating floor. "Stand by for immediate evacuation!" She flung a look at McKay. "Dial the gate."

Without a word, he moved to the Ancient DHD and started punching in the coordinates. The chevrons lit up, and without warning the shield over the gate fizzed into life. For a moment Weir was confused, but then McKay looked up and frowned. "We've got an incoming wormhole," he said.

Sumner!

McKay rushed to another console, tapped a few keys. "I'm reading Lieutenant Ford's identification code."

Yes! At last.

The shield shimmered white as the gate activated behind it. "Let them in," Weir ordered, racing for the stairs. She took them two at a time and slid to a stop in front of the gate as the shield shivered and disappeared. It felt like forever, but at last the puddle rippled and out stepped Major Sheppard. Her relieved greeting was cut short when she realized he had a kid with him. Ford followed next, and after him, in twos and threes, came a ragged, terrified group of people who stared around them in awe. Some were injured, others were weeping, others just looked shell-shocked.

She knew how they felt. "Major Sheppard…!"

"We were attacked," he said, as the gate shut down and the room plunged back into the semi-darkness of the ocean. "Sumner and some of his security team were taken-"

Weir reeled at that. Sumner was gone? They'd been there less than a day! Forcing aside her distress, she said, "Who are all these people?"

"Survivors from the settlement," Sheppard explained. He looked exhausted, and pretty shaken. "It was wiped out-"

"Major," she said quietly, trying to keep her voice low, "we're in no position to help anyone…"

Another tremor rippled through the floor, setting the newcomers clutching at each other and whimpering in fear. Behind her, Weir could hear other noises too. Her people assembling as ordered.

Sheppard noticed them too, his eyebrows rising. "What's going on?"

"We were about to abandon the city-"

He shook his head. "Going back there's a bad idea."

Her answer was cut off by the sudden blare of alarms as the quaking continued, intensifying every moment. "Major Sheppard, the shield is about to fail and the ocean is about to come crashing in on us!" she yelled over the sound of the alarms. "If you have a better place for us to go-"

Sheppard turned suddenly to the kid, grabbing his arm. "Jinto, do you know the address of another place we can gate to?"

"Yes," the boy answered bravely. "Many."

Sheppard looked at her, head cocked, as the city began to shake itself apart. Well?

"He's just a boy!"

The kid looked at her. "I am Jinto-"

Not waiting for another answer, Sheppard yanked the boy into motion. "She's pleased to meet you," he said, hauling him toward the control room. "Follow me.

As the Major sprinted up the stairs with Jinto in tow, the lights flickered. Weir glanced up, just in time to see them sputter and fail. All that was left was the blue light of the ocean and the sounds of creeping panic from the new arrivals. Her own people, Weir noted with bleak satisfaction, remained steadfast and calm. She'd chosen them well, and she'd be damned if she let them die here.

At a flat run, she too headed for the control room.

In horrified fascination Rodney McKay stared at the monitor displaying the shield status. All areas were flashing red now. It was over. "The shield is collapsing!" he yelled over the rumbling and shaking of the dying city. "The shield is collapsing!" And he was going to die with it. He was going to drown in an alien city in another galaxy, and no one would know. He wished he'd called his sister. He should have called her…

Suddenly a massive jolt shuddered through the entire city, throwing personnel and equipment to the floor. People were screaming, the gate itself flickering and dying. The noise was incredible, the shaking so intense McKay could feel the fillings rattle in his teeth.

I don't want to die! I don't want to die!

He was clinging to the console for support as the floor bucked and twisted beneath his feet. So frightened he could hardly breathe, he was unable even to screw his eyes shut and blot it all out. Which was why he suddenly noticed the monitor going crazy. The shield was still failing, but something else was happening too. Something else was happening all over the damn city!

Self-preservation finally besting sheer panic, he hauled himself upright and staggered over to the DHD. "I'm dialing an address!" he announced. Any damn address. He refused to die here. He refused to drown like a rat in a goddamn trap!

"No, wait!" Weir stumbled into the control room. He stopped, hand poised over the first symbol. "Dialing out now will just use the last of the remaining power," she yelled over the noise. "This whole section will flood before we can make it out!"

"Staying is not an option!" he yelled back.

She grabbed his arm, her fingers cold on his wrist. "Something's happening, can't you feel it?"

Actually, no. Aside from the brain-rattling tremors and the rumbling and the-

"We're moving." It was Sheppard, struggling up the steps room with the kid.

Moving? It was impossible! How could they be moving? Where the hell would they go?

Sheppard staggered into the control room, and McKay spun around suddenly noticing a shift in the light. It was getting brighter. And the noise was changing timbre too. The rumbling had changed to a sound of… Rushing water, straining metal. Flooding? No, the sound wasn't inside. It was outside.

He could feel it now, his stomach was lurching like he was in an elevator. They were moving. They were rising! The entire city was rising!

So astonished he could hardly process what he was seeing, McKay watched the ocean slip away from the windows. It was replaced by waterfalls cascading from roofs and spires as brilliant, glorious daylight streamed through the water and refracted into rainbows that sparkled across the room. It was a miracle, a bona fide miracle…

I'm not going to die. The thought hit him so hard he actually gasped and felt his knees turn weak with relief. I'm not going to die!

Sheppard ran to the nearest window, beaming like a kid as he stared out. Weir followed more slowly to stand at his side and gaze around her in obvious awe. Finally McKay joined them, his legs still shaky.

"We're on the surface," Weir breathed, almost as if she barely dared to believe it.

Sheppard's grin grew wider. "That we are," he agreed, glancing at McKay. "How did you know?"

If only he had… "I didn't."

Weir laughed softly. "I was hoping for another day, and it looks like we just got more than that." She smiled, somehow managing to convey her elation and determination in one look. "Let's not waste it."

When she tried, Dr. Weir could really be quite inspiring.

Chapter Seven

After the euphoria of escaping a certain and horrible death had faded, the truth began to sink in. Atlantis, the greatest city of the Ancients, was on the surface. Last time it had been on the surface it had been besieged by the Wraith — and having seen these guys up close and personal, John Sheppard could well imagine how much fun that had been. The only way the Ancients had been able to save Atlantis was to sink it. Now his team had brought the city back to the surface with nothing more than a handful of men and a few P90s to defend it. You didn't have to be a master tactician to understand the implications, and Sheppard's delight at their escape was swiftly turning to fear that it was merely a reprieve.

The control room was already flooded, so to speak, with geeks poring over the computers, looking for answers, while McKay — chief geek — was lecturing the rest of them about their situation. As if they didn't already know…

"The last Zero Point Module is depleted," he said, pacing and frowning, "but limited power has returned now that our own generators aren't trying to hold back an ocean. Life support systems are working, although the planet's atmosphere is breathable, notwithstanding the inevitable allergens."

Notwithstanding? Who used words like that…?

"Can our generators supply enough power to the shield for defensive purposes?" Weir asked, getting straight to the point. Sheppard liked that about her.

"Not even close," McKay replied, arms folded. They guy almost looked smug, as if he'd managed to prove that the world really was out to get him.

"On the surface without that shield, we're target practice," Sheppard noted.

"I'm acutely aware of that, Major. Thank you for reinforcing it."

Sarcasm. Nice. What did they call it, the lowest form of wit? Ignoring McKay's barb, he said, "When can you tell me where the Wraith took Colonel Sumner and the others?" He didn't mention Teyla by name, but it was the thought of her being swept up by the ice-white beam of light that was burned into his mind. He hated leaving people behind.

McKay made a show of condescending patience. "Even with the six symbols Lieutenant Ford provided, there are still hundreds of permutations-"

"Seven hundred and twenty," Sheppard told him. Who did the guy think he was dealing with? The paper boy?

McKay raised an eyebrow, impressed and clearly unwilling to show it. "I knew that, of course," he retorted. "I'm just surprised you do."

The smug son of a- "Take away the coordinates you can't get a lock on. That'll leave you with the right one." Sheppard made it into an order. "When you find it, send a MALP." Time McKay began to appreciate who was in charge around here.

To Sheppard's surprise the scientist didn't protest as he headed over to the DHD. He took that as a sign of progress…

"Major…? A word." It was Weir, and when he looked over at her he realized that her attention was fixed on the milling refugees from Teyla's village. After a moment she nodded to Ford. "Lieutenant, let's get those people settled somewhere else for the time being."

Ford snapped to attention; the kid was a bag of energy, even after all they'd been through. "Where would you like them, ma'am?"

She smiled. "Somewhere else. Thank you."

Her gaze slid back to Sheppard, and she inclined her head, inviting him to join her. But then she paused for a moment, glancing around — presumably looking for somewhere private to talk — before settling on a large glass door. "Come with me," she said, pushing the door open and leading him out onto a wide balcony.

The cool breeze and tang of salt air hit him instantly, scrubbing away his fatigue. He'd always loved the ocean, which, given their current situation, was amusing in an ironic kind of way. They walked in silence to the railing surrounding the balcony and gazed out across a sparkling ocean, blue as the sky above. There was no land in any direction, nothing but an endless azure sea. Briefly he wondered what would happen if a storm hit the city. He'd never been a good sailor…

At his side Weir lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes, breathing out a sigh. He watched her for a moment, and then said, "Let me guess, you're not going to let me try to rescue our people…"

Her eyes opened, and the smile evaporated. "Major…" She looked at him, genuinely uncertain. "You don't even know if they're alive."

Irrelevant, and she knew it. "You don't leave people in the hands of the enemy," he snapped. "The fact that you're having this conversation in private says to me you know damn well it's not only wrong but would totally undermine your leadership. As ranking military officer, I-"

"Shut up and listen to me for a moment!"

Her outburst knocked him off track. Shut up?

"What do we know about the Wraith?" she asked. "One of the few things we do know is that they were the enemy that defeated the Ancients. An enemy worthy of our respect, wouldn't you agree?"

He would agree, but didn't want to give her the satisfaction of hearing it. He settled for a glare instead.

"When we first began to use the Stargate we found on Earth, we got ourselves into serious trouble. Why?"

"Look, I don't need a history lesson-"

"Because the people in charge didn't consider the ramifications before they reacted-"

"They've taken our people!" he objected. "How the hell am I supposed to react?"

"We're defenseless, Major," Weir pressed, "you said so yourself. How do you know that going off on a half-assed rescue mission won't bring them right back here to our doorstep?"

Half-assed? Who the hell did she think he was? "Maybe it will," he said, "but it's still the right thing to do." She was about to comment, but he forestalled the question. "Why? Because it is."

"John-"

"If we don't do this, and I mean right now, we might as well turn tail and pack up, because they'll be comin' anyway."

"You don't know that."

Was she joking? "Our people are in enemy hands, Doctor, what do you think that means?" He paused for a beat, to let it sink in. "It's a matter of time before the Wraith learn this is our base of operations, and they wanted this piece of real estate a long time ago.

He had her, he could tell. He could see her wavering, see the doubt in her dark eyes. "I just need more information. Who knows, maybe we could negotiate a peaceful-"

"Peaceful? Are you kidding me?" He almost laughed. "We hadn't been there more than a few hours when they showed up. What are the odds of that?"

Weir looked genuinely disturbed. "You're saying they came because of you?" He shrugged his agreement and her eyes darkened, her voice lowering. "Then isn't it possible that one of these people you brought back tipped them off?"

He met her gaze, and held it. Carefully he said, "Yeah, it's possible."

Weir all but flung her arms up in exasperation. "That's just the kind of snap decision-"

"Not all of them are bad," he interrupted hotly, "and if we intend to stick around we need friends."

"Okay, I see your point. Now see mine." Her chin lifted, indecision replaced with a hard resolve. "I will not authorize a rescue mission until I know there's even a remote chance of success and that I'm not just sending more good people, including you, to their deaths."

That was that. It was clear from her face that any further argument was futile. And, if he was honest, he understood her point. They had no idea where Sumner and the others had been taken — some kind of Wraith stronghold, perhaps? Without hard intel they'd be going in blind, and no one — not even he — could contemplate leading his men on a suicide mission.

With a nod he turned away, leaving Weir to enjoy the view as he headed back inside. He wasn't about to give this up, but Weir was right. They needed information, they needed facts, and he was damn well gonna make sure they got them.

The pain was all over, like being immersed in a bath of searing heat and light. She remembered screaming, although she had made no sound. She remembered running until the ground had fallen away from beneath her feet, and she remembered the fear — the breath-stealing fear — and that she'd wondered if this was how her mother had felt when she was taken.

After that everything had spun into darkness, a complete darkness that was only now beginning to crack. She heard the whisper of frightened voices, felt her limbs ache with the echo of pain and the hardness of the floor and the dampness of the fetid air. Her eyelids began to move, struggling to open.

At first all she could see around her were shadows, blue shadows within shadows. And then a hand touched her arm and she saw a face. Toran. He looked pale as a spirit, as if he were already dead.

"Are you all right?" he whispered.

Teyla nodded. "Where are we?"

It was a hopeless question, and Toran couldn't bring himself to answer. He simply shook his head, sitting back on his haunches like the prey at the end of a chase. Forcing herself to sit up, Teyla glanced around the cell. Colonel Sumner sat against the far wall with some of his men, and she found herself relieved that Major Sheppard was not among them. She hoped he had escaped. Five of her own people were huddled in the opposite corner — among them she recognized Halling's tall figure, although not that of his son, which was a small mercy. Halling was watching Sumner and his men, anger lurking beneath the terror in his eyes. He blamed the strangers for bringing the Wraith, and perhaps he blamed himself for bringing the strangers to the village.

She turned once more to Colonel Sumner and, as if sensing her gaze, he looked at her. His face was gaunt, some of the arrogance had fallen away. He too was frightened, although he hid it well. "Any idea what to expect?"

"No." No one who had been taken ever returned.

Sumner nodded toward Toran. "Your friend was the one who said the Wraith would come if we went down into the ruins."

"You should have heeded his warning," Halling growled.

"How do I know he's not the one who told them?"

Halling's retort died on his lips. The sound of footsteps echoed down the shadowy corridor and three dark figures approached. Her heart thundering, Teyla rose and came to stand before her frightened people. To her surprise, she found Sumner at her side. He was breathing fast, but his face was bold, and he did not flinch as the Wraith emerged from the shadows.

The Wraith was pale as a corpse, his eyes black and lifeless. His breath stank of decay. At a silent command the door to the pen opened. Behind her, Teyla could hear the whimpers of fear from her people and felt her own blood run cold as winter ice.

Abruptly, Sumner stepped forward. "My name is Colonel Marshall Sum-"

The Wraith fired its weapon, blasting Sumner across the room. He crumpled against the far wall and fell to the floor in a heap as two of his men darted to his aid. Ignoring him, the Wraith turned his eyes on Teyla, his gaze sweeping across her body like a frozen wind before it came to rest on Toran.

He shrank back, terrified, eyes wide and filling with tears. With no command given, the two Wraith standing behind the first stepped into the pen and seized Toran. "No, please…" he hissed, so frightened he could barely speak. And then he looked right at her. "Help me!"

Jolted from her own sense of horror, Teyla pushed herself forward. "Take me in his place!"

"No." It was Sumner, shakily back on his feet. "Take me." The Wraith turned to him, the expression in its dead eyes unreadable. "We're the ones you're after, right? I'm the leader."

For a moment longer the Wraith regarded Sumner, then it turned away and stepped out of the pen. Locked in the iron grip of the other Wraith, Toran was dragged out after it, whimpering in terror. She couldn't catch his eye, couldn't bid him farewell; his mind was lost to fear, and as they pulled him from the cell he began to scream. Sick with rage and guilt, Teyla trembled as his wails echoed the length of the corridor. There was nothing she could do to save him — he was one of her people and she couldn't save him.

Shaken, Sumner stared at her. She did not know what he had expected from the Wraith, but their brutal inhumanity seemed to have shocked this hardened warrior. Perhaps he had expected to be treated as a worthy opponent, as an equal. She shook her head, "They have no need to explain themselves."

"Yeah," he said quietly, his voice mingling with Toran's fading screams. "I got that."

It had actually taken less time than Rodney McKay had anticipated to work through all seven hundred and twenty combinations to find the one that locked and opened. In truth, he was feeling pretty pleased with himself. Not that anyone had offered a 'congratulations' or a `good job, Rodney'. But when did they ever? It had been the fate of many a genius, he supposed, to go unrecognized during their own lifetime.

Nevertheless, he'd done what had to be done and now stood ready to launch a MALP to assess the possibility of mounting a rescue mission for Colonel Sumner and the others. Frankly — and he wouldn't say this out loud — he thought it was an incredibly bad idea. Whatever these Wraith were, they'd been powerful enough to defeat an entire galaxy of Ancients. He couldn't begin to imagine what Sheppard and a couple of his gung-ho friends expected to be able to do against them. But, conversely, he had a pretty graphic image of what the Wraith would do once they discovered that Atlantis was open for business again.

Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die. Sighing, McKay started the MALP moving and, with Weir and Sheppard at his side, watched it crawl through the open wormhole and disappear. He turned immediately to the visual telemetry screen. It switched from digital noise to black — which was odd.

"We're receiving visual telemetry," the technician reported, sounding confused.

"I can't see anything," Weir pointed out, presumably just in case the rest of them had failed to notice the fact that the screen was entirely blank.

Impatiently, McKay bent closer. "There are no atmospheric readings at all." Which made no sense unless- A flare of light passed across the screen.

"What was that?" Sheppard asked.

"Rotate the camera," McKay told the technician. If he was right about this… The camera slowly revolved, and suddenly the black screen was full of light; a planet floated majestically below it. The Stargate was in orbit. "Well," McKay sighed irritably, "that MALP is gone."

A long silence followed as the implications of what they were seeing sank in. Sheppard was the first to speak. "It's in space."

Ten points for stating the blindingly obvious! "In high orbit over a planet on the far side of the galaxy," McKay added, just so they knew all the facts.

Weir glanced at him, her head cocked. "How can you be sure that's the right address?"

He shrugged. "It's the only one that we got a lock on.

"Very well," she said, and he wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappointed. "Shut it down." The look she cast at Sheppard might have been an apology or regret, then she walked out of the control room.

Stewing in frustration, the Major just stared as the Stargate shut down. Crazy as it was — as he was, in all probability — the man actually wanted to go out there and get his friends back. Sheppard was admi rable, McKay supposed. Insane, but admirable. For a moment Rodney deliberated what to do next. He couldn't help thinking that keeping their collective head down was definitely the wisest strategy in regard to the Wraith, but in the end it wasn't his decision. Praying he wasn't going to regret it, he said, "Come with me, Major."

It didn't take them long to get there, and McKay adamantly refused to answer any of Sheppard's irritating questions on the way down. Part of him enjoyed the sense of power and part of him enjoyed the chance to say `Ta da!' When they got to their destination McKay stopped outside the doors and grinned before waving Sheppard ahead of him.

With one last, skeptical look, the Major walked past him and through a set of double doors that hissed open as they approached. "McKay," he growled, "I swear, if this is-" He stopped, eyes going wide and a smile of pure delight cracking his face.

They stood in an enormous room that stretched up and up so high you almost couldn't see the ceiling. All around them, like locomotives stored in a giant roundhouse, were six shuttle-sized space ships. Sheppard looked like a kid on Christmas morning, and McKay practically had to tug on his sleeve to get him moving. "Come on, we can go inside one."

The cockpit was small, allowing just enough room for pilot and co-pilot. McKay had been inside a couple of times before everything had gone to hell, but of course he hadn't been able to make the damn thing work. So he watched with interest — and not a little jealousy — as Sheppard slid into the pilot's chair as if he'd been born to sit there. After a moment he reached forward and touched the controls; the cockpit responded instantly. The lights flicked on and, with a low hum, the whole ship came to life.

"Think you can fly it?" McKay asked.

Sheppard threw him a grin. "What say we find out?"

The truth was, and Elizabeth Weir was slightly ashamed of the fact, but the truth was that she had been relieved when they'd discovered it was impossible to mount a rescue. It had taken the decision out of her hands and, as much as she understood and shared Major Sheppard's desire to bring their people home, she still had grave doubts about the wisdom of launching an attack against an enemy capable of defeating the Ancients.

But for now the point was moot; there was no way they could reach the Wraith planet. She was afraid that Sheppard had sensed her relief, that she'd seen a tinge of recrimination in his eyes before she'd left the control room, and perhaps she needed to talk with him about that. She needed him on her side, and if he doubted that she was one hundred percent behind him and his men, then the trust they needed to develop wouldn't flourish. And without trust… Well, out here they had no one but each other to rely on. She'd talk to him later, she decided, perhaps over dinner in the makeshift mess. Informally. At the moment, however, she had other matters to deal with — the most press ing of which being a call from Dr. Carson Beckett regarding the Wraith body-part Sheppard had recovered from the downed ship earlier in the day.

Beckett had set up his lab and infirmary in one of the many empty chambers close to the gate room. The equipment they'd brought from Earth looked incongruous among the soft lines and elegant proportions of Ancient design, but at the same time they looked reassuringly familiar. It was an odd juxtaposition, Weir thought as she stepped inside.

The doctor was working at one of the benches and glanced up at her approach. She smiled, "Doctor, what was it you wanted me to see?"

Nodding her over, she realized with a grimace that he was still working on the Wraith's arm. It was huge, its fingers — or were they claws? — twice the size of her own, its skin a sickly green. But Beckett was oblivious to her slightly squeamish reaction and began talking excitedly. "These cells have none of the normal human proteins that inhibit regeneration," he told her, manipulating the creature's arm. "That gives them an incredible ability to regenerate."

Regenerate? She didn't like the sound of that. "What about what Major Sheppard saw?" An arm, crawling across the dirt all by itself. Like something out of a bad B-movie…

Beckett nodded. "As far as independent behavior goes," he explained, "I'd say that any movement he saw was caused by a residual command language in the severed nerve endings."

Okay…As long as he understood it. "Anything else?"

For a moment Beckett didn't answer, looking at her as if trying to judge how she would react to what he had to say. It unnerved her a little, but she lifted her chin, which he took as a sign to continue. "The being this arm came from? I could hazard a good guess that it was very, very old."

Weir felt a chill run down her spine. "How old?"

"As long as the cells are properly nourished," Beckett said, "I don't see one of these life forms ever dying of natural ageing the way we do." He paused, then said, "And they'd be bloody hard to kill."

An all-but-immortal enemy? "I don't like the sound of that."

He nodded. "I don't blame you."

She was about to ask if he had any suggestions about effective methods of killing these things when her radio crackled and McKay's excited voice started babbling through the static. There was something he needed to her to see, urgently, and no amount of questioning could get him to divulge what exactly he'd discovered. Apparently it would spoil the 'surprise'. She toyed with the idea of making it an order, but decided that a certain informality with her senior staff probably yielded more than stern discipline. And so, with a nod of thanks to Beckett, she made her way up to one of the higher levels of the city. She hadn't been this way before, and was beginning to fear she'd gotten herself lost when McKay's head popped out between the panels of a double door. He waved at her. "Over here!"

Drawing closer she could hear a strange, whining sound. An engine, perhaps? McKay looked triumphant as he led her into a massive, round room. The noise was louder in here, almost deafening, but still she couldn't see the source. "What is that sound?" she shouted.

McKay's triumph crumbled into confusion. "I don't…" He turned in a perplexed circle, looking for something. "It was right there. Major?"

Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, a ship appeared, hovering right in the middle of the room. It was small and compact, almost like a car, and sitting in the cockpit was one very amused Major John Sheppard, who lifted his hand in a cocky wave.

McKay harrumphed, his thunder pretty well stolen, and Weir just stared. They'd found a ship, and from its size and shape, a ship designed to fly through a Stargate. She'd say one thing for Major Sheppard, he didn't give up easily. Unfortunately, this just made her decision that much harder.

Even through the cockpit window, Sheppard had seen the mixed feelings on Dr. Weir's face. Sure, she'd been impressed — who wouldn't be? — but he'd recognized the doubt there, too, and the concern. The ball was back in her court, and she had to make a choice. While he brought the ship down to the ground, killed the engines, and made his way back outside, he considered how best to handle her. He knew for a fact that if she didn't mount a rescue attempt, her leadership of this mission would be fatally flawed. People needed to know that someone had their backs, that if the worst came to the worst someone would be there to cover their collective ass.

No one gets left behind.

But if Weir appeared willing to sacrifice Colonel Sumner on the very first engagement with the enemy, she'd be undermining the confidence of every single man and woman on the base. It would be a disaster, and he had to make her see that. As he came around to the front of the ship she smiled at him and nodded toward the corridor — an invitation to walk and talk. They were silent at first, both aware that their discussion had to remain between themselves. Sheppard didn't know Rodney McKay very well, but the guy had the look of a gossip. At last, however, the shuttle bay was far behind and they were alone in the vastness of the ancient city.

He glanced over at her as they walked, taking in her pursed lips and the worry lines on her forehead. Quietly he said, "You wanted a tactical advantage?"

Weir blew out a short breath. "Assuming for a moment that you can fly that thing-"

"It's in my genes."

She smiled slightly, against her will by the look of it. "There's still a huge leap between being able to fly that craft and pulling off a rescue."

"Fine," he shrugged. "Call it a reconnaissance. At the very least, we need to know what kind of forces they have and whether our position's been compromised." At the very least, we need to look as if we're doing something.

She slowed and cut him an astute glance. "And if you determine that our people are still alive?"

"I'll do the right thing."

There was a long, hanging moment of silence. Sheppard felt as if the entire mission were in the balance, as if this single decision would determine the success or failure of everything they wanted to accomplish in Pegasus. He found himself holding his breath.

"Okay, Major Sheppard," she said at last. "Go."

He was gone.

It didn't get much better than this, Alden Ford thought as he made his way through the six fully geared-up and armed SOs seated in the back of the Gateship. He'd been through the Stargate countless times, but he'd never been into space before. Space! Never in his wildest childhood dreams had he imagined this moment, flying an alien space ship through a galaxy far, far away… Perhaps he should pinch himself, just to make sure he wasn't back home and dreaming.

Major Sheppard was already in the pilot's seat, and as Ford slipped into the chair next to him he reported, "Gateship One is ready to go, sir."

"Gateship?" The Major winced. "No, no, no, that's all wrong."

Ford frowned, a little crestfallen. "It's a ship that goes through the gate," he explained. "Gateship One."

"A little puddle jumper like this?" Sheppard laughed.

"Dr. McKay thought it was cool."

From the cockeyed smile, Ford guessed that McKay's approval didn't carry a lot of weight with the Major. "Okay," Sheppard said. "It's official. You don't get to name anything. Ever." He reached for the communications controls. "Flight, this is Puddle Jumper. We're go to launch."

Puddle Jumper? What the hell kind of a name was that for a ship?

After a moment, McKay's voice came over the speaker. He sounded irritated — more irritated than usual. "Ali, this is Flight. I thought we were going with Gateship."

Sheppard rolled his eyes. "Negative, flight."

"Standby…" said McKay. In the background his voice drifted just within range of the mic. "It's a ship that goes through the gate!" After a beat he huffed, "Fine." Then he came back properly over the speakers. "Puddle Jumper, you're clear for launch."

Sheppard's grin said `about time'. Placing his hands on the controls he brought the ship to life. "Dial it up, Lieutenant."

The gate symbols were still indelibly imprinted into his mind, and Ford inputted them quickly into the small DHD device mounted between himself and Sheppard. As he did so the ship lifted into the air, hovering as the turntable beneath it twirled open like the iris back at Stargate Command. Slowly, with a grace no human-built aircraft could ever manage, the Puddle Jumper sank through the opening and into the gate room below. Through the cockpit window Ford could see Dr. Weir and Dr. McKay watching in open-mouthed astonishment as the ship descended and hovered before the open wormhole.

Weir's voice came over the radio. "Be safe."

Sheppard didn't answer, but Ford caught the smile that twitched his lips just before the engines roared and the ship accelerated through the wormhole. They were going so fast the ice-cold trip was over almost before it had begun and suddenly they shot out into black space, the blue-white planet glistening like a jewel before them. It looked beautiful, breathtaking, just like the pictures of Earth from the Shuttle back home. Stupidly, he wished he'd brought a camera. His dad would have loved this…

Something rippled across the window, and he realized that Major Sheppard had engaged the ship's stealth mode. Ford glanced over at him. "Looks like you've got the hang of it."

"I tell you what, Lieutenant," Sheppard said, failing to hide the awe in his voice. "I know a few fighter pilots who'd kill to fly this thing…it's like it reads your mind."

Without warning a heads-up display appeared, focusing on a target on the surface of the planet below. Startled, Ford said, "Did you do that?"

"I was just wonderin' where we go from here."

"So that would be a yes." Awesome! Of course, once they were on the ground and didn't have the ship to do the thinking for them, things might not go so smoothly. "How do we find them once we land?"

The Major nodded. "I've been thinking about that too." All of a sudden a small PDA unit on the cockpit wall next to Sheppard began to glow. Cautiously he pulled it off and studied it, exchanging an astonished glance with Ford. After a moment he said, "Now I'm thinking of a turkey sandwich…" He looked around expectantly, but nothing happened.

"Worth a try," said Ford.

Shrugging his agreement, Sheppard pocketed the PDA and took the ship down low over the hostile, alien world.

Far below them, deep in the Wraith hive, Teyla sat in silence. There was no way to measure the time down here in the unending darkness, but Toran's screams had stopped long ago and no one had spoken since he had been taken. Teyla knew with a certainty as final as death that she would not see him again, just as she would never again see her mother. Across the pen Colonel Sumner sat with a rigid back, locked in frustration. He had tried to force the door, to pry open the bars with his bare hands, but escape was impossible. She could have told him as much, but Teyla knew he would not believe her and she suspected that the attempt helped him deal with the terror they all felt. It hovered in the air like the dank smell of death that surrounded them, and its chill was as deathly as ice. Fear could kill you, she'd seen it happen. She'd seen people freeze in terror, watching and doing nothing as the Wraith beam swept down and took them away.

But not her, not Teyla Emmagan. She would never succumb to fear, she would never give the Wraith that satisfaction. They might kill her, but they would not make her bend or tremble.

A scuff of feet took them all to alert, a burst of adrenaline pumping hard through her blood as the Wraith returned. This time, when it stepped into the pen the creature's dead eyes locked onto Colonel Sumner. He met the lifeless gaze with a defiance Teyla hoped to match when they came for her. They stared at each other, the Wraith and Sumner, and it felt like forever before the creature turned and left the cell. It had not laid a hand on the Colonel, yet he knew what he must do. With one parting look at his men he followed the Wraith to his death.

In all her life, Teyla had never seen a man act with more bravery or dignity and it shamed her that she had once thought ill of him. She watched until he had disappeared into the shadows and flung out a prayer for the protection of his soul.

Chapter Eight

John Sheppard brought the ship — the Puddle Jumper — down in a small clearing among sparse trees. It didn't seem a whole lot different from Teyla's planet, and he considered briefly why a world in a completely differently galaxy might look so much like home. Perhaps the Ancients were keen gardeners and had spent their time sowing seeds as well as humanity? Or maybe he had better things to think about. Dismissing the thought, he removed his hands from the controls, and the cockpit powered down.

Nodding at Ford, he slipped from his seat and gave the order to move out. With a quiet hiss the back door opened and a scent of damp leaves and pine drifted into the ship. Picking up his P90, Sheppard let Stackhouse lead the way out, himself, Ford, and the other SOs following.

The air was cool and damp, the forest silent as his boots thumped down onto soft dirt. He did a slow three-sixty, weapon raised, listening hard. Nothing. So far so good… "Teams of two," he told Stackhouse. "Learn what you can and lay down defenses as you see fit. I want to be able to light this place up if we have to. Two clicks on the radio means you're clear to talk."

"Yes, sir."

"Do not engage the enemy," he added, preparing to move out. "Ford, with me."

The kid fell in beside him, barely concealing his enthusiasm. It made Sheppard feel older and more seasoned than his years suggested, and he wondered if this was what desk-jockeys like O'Neill called the `burden of command'. He knew, just as Dr. Weir did, that some or all of them might not make it back. And as much as she had given them the go, it had been at his urging. This was his plan, and the lives of these seven men lay firmly in his hands.

It was enough to make anyone grow up fast.

The thing about fear was that you couldn't just ignore it. You couldn't pretend it wasn't there, jut out your chin and keep going, because one day, right at the worst possible moment, you'd slip and fall, and that fear would come bursting out and leave you shaking and helpless. Colonel Sumner had seen it happen. No, the thing with fear was that you had to embrace it. You had to know it like the enemy, you had to understand how it made you think and feel, and how much it twisted your mind and your reason. Once you knew all that it couldn't surprise you. It couldn't control you, you controlled it. And as he was led through endless echoing corridors, never far from the stench of death, Sumner needed all the control he could muster.

Truth was, he was terrified.

These things — these creatures — were like nothing he'd ever encountered. If he'd believed in Good and Evil he'd have called them devils. Their dead eyes were like mirror-glass, their skin that of a corpse. Their demon mouths, stinking of death and corruption, made him want to vomit. These were no snakeheads, no Goa'uld — they at least had all the human failings of vanity, greed and egotism. But these Wraith… They were closer to the beasts than humanity, cunning beasts that hungered only for hunting and-

His thoughts were derailed when he found himself being led into a giant room. Its edges were lost in shadows that looked like cloisters, its cone-shaped ceiling soaring up almost too high for him to see and its honeycombed surface glowing a soft gold. And all around, at the periphery of his vision, he could glimpse whispers of movement. Dark shapes flitting around the edges of the room, shadows within shadows.

Sumner's heart thundered fast and ragged as he followed the Wraith to a long table at the center of the room, a banqueting table laden with an exotic feast. But no one was eating. A solitary man sat in one of the high-backed gothic chairs, and he seemed long dead. His face was withered, his limbs and hands nothing but skin slumped over bone. Dead two years, Sumner thought, until he saw the man's clothing. His pulse stuttered in shock; the husk of a corpse was Toran. Over the man's heart five small puncture wounds still oozed blood; they were the only visible marks on his body.

Adrenaline tasted bitter in his mouth and he spun in a nervous circle, watching the whispering shadows. He wanted to yell out, to demand that they stop hiding in the dark, stop drifting just outside his vision, but his throat felt dry and-

A phantom dropped from the ceiling, right behind him. He spun, hand reaching for a weapon that was long gone, and found himself face-to-face with a nightmare. Another Wraith, female and dressed in white — a parody of allure, her lithe figure snaking towards him and her hellish mouth reeking of slaughter.

Her voice, a mere hiss, cut the silence. "You must feel hunger by now."

Sumner just stared, tried to swallow and find his voice, but he'd never felt such stomach-churning horror. It took all his effort not to back off as she glided like a ghost toward him, her pallid face and lifeless eyes turning him as cold as death.

I'm already dead. I'm already dead…

They'd found it almost immediately. The Wraith fortress — for want of a better word — was built into the side of the mountain and the scramble up the rubble below had been easy. He was tempted to say too easy, but aside from the cliche Sheppard was pretty sure things would be getting tough real soon. They were crouched now in the dank catacombs of the fortress, the air thick and musty and very, very old. It didn't feel like anyone had been down here in years.

Except for the footsteps. He paused in setting the detonator on the C4 and held up a hand to still Ford. The kid quit moving and they both listened as the footsteps drew closer. Much closer. He held his breath, eyes fixed on Ford. The lieutenant's eyes were wide, and he was breathing slowly through his mouth to make no noise.

The footsteps were accompanied by a stench, like decomposing flesh, and Sheppard's nostrils flared in disgust. Glancing up from his hiding place, he watched the creature stalk past. It was huge, taller than a man and broad. Damn thing looked hard to take down. Its lank hair was long, its face distorted by a mouthful of teeth — or fangs. Images of werewolves and vampires sprung to mind. Damn it, where was Buffy when you needed her…

The Wraith paused, sniffed at the air, and Sheppard's fingers tightened on his weapon. But after a moment it moved on, its footsteps echoing back down the corridor as it paced away and disappeared into the shadows.

Ford shifted. "I thought getting in was gonna be the hard part," he whispered. "That's the first one we ve seen.

"Long as he didn't see us." Sheppard pulled the PDA he'd taken from the Puddle Jumper out of his vest. Its flat screen showed a white dot at the center, with a second moving away. He studied it for a moment and said, "The moving dot is him." Then, glancing at Ford, he said, "Step back."

The kid just frowned.

"Go over there."

With a shrug, Ford obeyed, and Sheppard smiled as the dot at the centre of the screen split into two. "Yep, that's you."

Ford grinned. "So we've got ourselves a life signs detector."

"We'll name it later," Sheppard decided. He was thinking more along the lines of 'Tracker'… "Looks like they're just up ahead, c'mon."

Keeping low and keeping quiet, Sheppard led them through the silent, empty tunnels. It was like Halloween or a horror movie; if Freddie Kruger had jumped out at him he wouldn't have been surprised. But at last they rounded a corner, and he slipped the PDA back into his vest. Didn't need it anymore. Up ahead he could see a cell, and inside people were moving. Real people. As they crept along the corridor he saw someone approach the bars, her dark eyes glittering in the dim light. It was Teyla, and Sheppard felt a surge of relief at the sight of her.

With Ford hanging back, Sheppard stepped out of the shadows and darted over to the cell. Teyla stared at him in out-and-out amazement, eyes wide as saucers. "Major…?"

He was whisper-quiet. "You all right?"

"How did you find us?"

Before he could answer Halling pressed forward, his face crumpled with dread. "Is my son alive?"

"And well and waiting for you," Sheppard said with a small smile. "Where is Colonel Sumner?"

There was an uncomfortable pause. Oh no. Oh, no, no, no…

In the end it was one of Sumner's security team who spoke from where he lay injured on the floor. His voice was strained and angry. "He's been taken by the Wraith."

Teyla's face told him Sumner was already dead, but all she said was, "We don't know where."

Exchanging a glance with Ford, he said, "How 'bout when?"

"Not long."

He sighed. "Well, something had to go wrong." He reached over, clicked twice on his radio and waited.

"This is Stackhouse," a voice crackled through the static. "Go ahead sir."

"We're going to need a diversion in a little bit," Sheppard whispered. "You ready to make some noise out there?"

"Yes, sir."

Okay. So they were going to have to do this the hard way. "Ford, rig up enough C4 to make a hole and get these folks out of here on my command." He studied the tracker for a moment. "I can find the Colonel with this thing. There's not all that many Wraith around here." He looked up, right at Ford. "I should be able to do this, but if you don't hear from me in.. twenty minutes, blow the cells and get out."

Ford frowned, shifting uncomfortably. The requisite `yes, sir' was not forthcoming. Instead he said, "You're the only one who can fly these people out of here-"

"And I'll fly all of us out. Including the Colonel."

"I'm sat'in' I should be the one to go, sir-"

There was no time to argue, so instead Sheppard simply slapped the tracker device into Ford's hands. It died immediately and he snatched it back with a look; Ford didn't have the Ancient gene. "All right, you have your orders," Sheppard said. "Twenty minutes, I'll find him."

With a tight, concerned frown Ford just nodded. There was no more to say, and Sheppard headed out, back into the shadows. Sumner was gonna be surprised as hell to see him, and the Major was looking forward to the guy owing him one. It was gonna make life a helluva lot easier…

Colonel Sumner stood parade-ground straight, shoulders back and eyes fixed on the dark edges of the room. If he didn't look right at her, he'd discovered, it was easier. Not much, but enough. She was circling him now, her clawed fingers trailing occasionally across his uniform. But her hair, blood red and shocking against her corpse skin, gleamed in the flickering light of the room and kept drawing his attention, kept making him look at her.

"Word of all new things finds its way to us," she hissed. "What do you call yourself?"

"Colonel Marshall Sumner, United States Marines." The words rolled easily from his dry tongue.

She paused in her circling, head cocked. "So little fear," she breathed. Her breath stank like carrion. "Is it valor? Or ignorance?"

Repressing the urge to gag, Sumner fixed his eyes on the shadows again and said, "We travel through the Stargate as peaceful explorers-"

"You must eat," she whispered, heedless of his words, "yet you resist your hunger. Why?"

Sumner looked at her then, right into her eyes. It was like looking into the abyss. "Why have my people been taken prisoner?"

A grimace stretched across her lethal teeth. A smile? He couldn't tell. "You trespassed upon our feeding ground."

"Feeding ground?" He was amazed he still had the capacity to feel horror.

"One of a thousand such worlds," she hissed again, dismissing his shock with a wave of her talons. "All living things must eat, in this I'm sure we are similar."

As similar as a man to a shark.

She drew closer, her fetid breath washing over him and making him want to retch. "You feel hunger even now. I can sense it. Yet you resist. Why?"

"Why do you care?"

"Hunger is distasteful." She moved away, circling him again.

Sumner let his eyes slide back to Toran's body, slumped in a chair at the table. Had they made the man eat before they killed him? "It looks like the food didn't agree with him."

The Wraith stared at the corpse, then her dead eyes returned to him and her lips stretched into that parody of a smile again. "There we are quite dissimilar, Colonel Sumner," she whispered. "We do not require our food to agree with us."

Holy Mary Mother of God, had she eaten the man?

A soft noise from far above drifted down, distracting him. He glanced up but saw nothing, and when he looked at the Wraith again she had stepped back. Behind her he saw two others, significantly larger. Warriors. Her tone had changed, and she regarded him with more disdain than previously. "What do you call your world?"

Like he'd ever tell- "Earth." The word slipped out as if he'd dropped it.

"It is not among our stars."

"No."

She drew closer again. Hungry, Sumner thought. She was hungry. "Tell me of Earth." Her nostrils flared, as if she were breathing in his scent. "How many more are there of your kind?"

I won't say.

"Thousands, millions?"

More. The word rang in his head, fought to get to his lips. But he wouldn't speak it. He would not speak it!

"More?" Her eyes flashed with unspeakable desire. "How many?"

She was in his head. Billions. No, no, I won 't say it. I won't say it! She was in his head, making him say the word. Making him speak. Sweat trickled through the short hairs at the back of his neck, down the sides of his face. I won't say it…

The Wraith just smiled. "Our feeding ground has not been so rich in ten thousand years."

His knees were beginning to shake, his whole body crumpling under the force of her mind in his head. "Your will is strong," she hissed, nodding toward the husk that had been Toran. "This one begged for its life."

"Is that…" It was an effort to form a word, to make his rigid jaw work. "Is that the treatment I should expect for myself and for my people?"

Her gaze slid to the warriors at her back. "As I said, all things must eat."

"Then we're done talking."

Closer now, he could feel her inside his head like a dark fist clamped around his mind. "I think not…" she murmured, and his fingers clenched, aching to strike at that demon face, to see her broken and bleeding on the ground. But he couldn't move, he couldn't move a damn finger. He could barely breathe. "Kneel."

I won't I won't I won't I His knees collapsed as if cut, and he fell to the floor at her feet. She reached out, her clawed fingers touching his face and head. They felt cold, clammy and revolting. He tried to jerk away, but he couldn't move. He couldn't damn well move. Her hand was on his chest now, caressing him like a lover. He wanted to vomit, he wanted to scream, he wanted to kill the bitch.

"I have not tasted such strength in so long…" Her fingers knotted in his shirt, and she ripped it from his chest.

"Go to hell!" he spat, with all the strength he could muster.

Her face moved closer, so close he could see the saliva dripping from her fanged teeth as she peeled back her lips and whispered, "Earth first."

And then her fingers stabbed deep into his chest and all he could feel was pain and fear and horror, stretching on for an eternity as his body began to crumble away from him…

Not like this. His head flung back, a scream ripped from his throat. Not like this!

"How many years must I take from you," the Wraith hissed into his face, "before you tell us what I wish to know?"

He felt weak, faint, a blaze of agony coursing through his limbs as she sucked the life out of him. He could feel it, like blood pooling on the floor. He'd seen men die like this, bleeding out where they lay in the dirt.

"Or shall I take them all?"

Her fingers bit deeper, the agony tripling and tearing another scream from his throat. But he wouldn't give in, not while he lived. Not ever.

"Where is this new feeding ground?" she demanded, and he could sense her frustration. Sense her fear.

He was seeing everything through a grey haze now, faded and distant. Death was coming, it hovered above, waiting to take him. But not yet. Forcing his eyes open, he croaked his defiance. "I won't…"

It was all he had left.

The scream echoed through the corridors, bouncing off damp walls and filling Sheppard with cold fear. It was a man's scream, and that man could only be Sumner. He didn't want to know what could make someone like the Colonel scream, but he damn well wanted to make it stop.

Bolting toward the sound, Sheppard suddenly found himself on a balcony overlooking a huge room. Above him the ceiling stretched up into a honeycombed point, but what captured his attention was the scene playing out below.

Sumner was on his knees, and one of the Wraith had her hand on — or in? — his chest. His head was flung back and he was screaming in obvious agony, while her face contorted in pleasure. Freaking monster… Sheppard swung his weapon up without hesitation, switched it to single-shot, and sent three bullets right into the creature's back. Barn, bam, bam.

She went down and lay still, her body shielding Sumner. Satisfied, Sheppard moved onto the big guys behind her in the room and took out one in a hail of automatic gun fire, while the other-

A hideous, alien screech sliced the air and the Wraith — the female — reared up and seemed to dig her fingers right into Sumner's chest. He screamed again and again, the sound inhuman and tortured. It turned Sheppard's blood to ice.

How the hell had that not killed her? Three bullets, right to the chest! But as he watched… Sonofabitch, the bullet holes were sealing themselves up. Healing themselves! And Sumner… He was shaking, his face changing before Sheppard's eyes, his body aging as the creature sucked the goddamn life out of him! Sickened, utterly freaked-out, Sheppard took aim again. This time she'd die, this time-

Sumner looked up with his rheumy, old-man's eyes and stared right at Sheppard. Not like this, his eyes begged. Don't let me die like this…

Understanding, but shaken to the core, Sheppard moved the sights of his weapon away from the Wraith and onto Sumner. I'm going to kill a man… I'm killing one of my own. But there was no choice. He squeezed off a single shot and watched the bullet scorch through the Wraith's hand where it lay buried in Sumner's chest.

With a screech, the Wraith pulled her hand away and Sumner slumped forward. Dead. He looked about ninety, his whole life drained by the monster who stood over him nursing her blackened talons. And suddenly her empty eyes were fixed on Sheppard. Even from this distance he could sense her power and her rage as she shrieked again and-

Something sharp and electrical jabbed hard into his back. A flash flood of heat scorched through his mind, sending him spiraling down into darkness. All that was left were shadows and through them he heard the Wraith's outraged hiss, like an angry snake. "Bring him."

Then everything went black.

Chapter Nine

The Major had said twenty minutes. Ten minutes in, ten out. Ford glanced at his watch and cursed silently. Fifteen minutes already; if Sheppard wasn't on his way back, he wouldn't make it in time. If he was on his way back, then why hadn't he reported in?

He shifted nervously where he crouched next to the bars of the holding pen. Inside he saw the alien woman, Teyla, watching him with serious eyes. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he was thinking, and in a low voice he confided, "We're coming up on fifteen minutes. I thought we'd get a signal by now.

"Go," she said softly, nodding down the corridor.

It was exactly what he wanted to do. And exactly what he couldn't do. "He's my superior officer," he explained quietly. "He gave me a direct order."

Teyla moved closer to the bars, reaching through and seizing his arm. "He needs your help."

"I — "

Her hand tightened on his arm, her dark eyes bright and intense as she fixed him with a long look that spoke directly to his heart. We don't leave our people behind. He'd heard the Major say that; it was why Sheppard had breached a direct order himself and gone back for three guys in Afghanistan. It had been the right thing to do then, and it was the right thing to do now.

With a nod to Teyla — half thanks and half acknowledgment — Ford rose and silently headed into the gloom of the Wraith fortress.

Consciousness returned with a crash as Sheppard found himself slammed hard against a huge, wooden table. In a surreal moment of utter confusion he saw food, plates, and silverware fly into the air and clatter to the floor behind the massive, grotesque figure of the Wraith warrior that had its hand knotted in the front of Sheppard's shirt.

He could hardly breathe for the weight of the creature's hand against his chest, and his head spun so fast from whatever the hell had taken him out that he struggled to focus. But even through his blurred vision he could see that the creature pinning him to the table had no face. It had no damn face!

He recoiled, disgusted, but there was nowhere to go. To his left he heard a soft hiss and turned to see the female Wraith approaching, nursing her wounded hand. It was soaked in sticky, black blood. Her dead gaze drifted to the creature holding him down, and it let go enough for Sheppard to suck in a deep breath. He regretted it the moment the foul Wraith-stench hit his nostrils and he had to repress a gag. Show no weakness, show no weakness…"So," he managed to scratch out, "how's the hand feeling?"

Her lips peeled back from her revolting fang-like teeth and she held up her hand for him to see. "Much better," she taunted.

"Sorry to hear that."

Astonishingly, as he watched, the bullet hole shrank and healed until her pale green skin was unblemished. She stretched her claws as if she might rip out his heart. But her attention was distracted, and her talons reached instead for the tracking device in his vest pocket. She pulled it out and examined it carefully, then turned her black eyes on him. "How did this come to you?"

"I don't remember." And I'll say more than that over my dead body.

The hand on his chest slammed him back hard against the table, cutting off his air. He choked, fingers pulling uselessly at the iron grip around his throat. The female loomed over him, her face blurring as his vision wavered, her hand lifting high and the glint of something gold on her finger catching his eye. A device, a weapon-

A single shot cracked through the air, puncturing the warrior's featureless face with a single, oozing black dot. Its grip on Sheppard's throat loosened, and he turned far enough to see Ford crouched at the entrance. The lieutenant fired again, right on the mark, and this time the Warrior went down.

"Sir, let's go!" Ford yelled.

Still dizzy and disoriented, Sheppard rolled off the table, yelling into his radio, "Light it up!" He dropped to the floor next to the dead warrior. Its black blood was seeping across the ground, steaming in the damp air, and he scrabbled away from its touch just as a piercing shriek sliced like a knife through his head. The female Wraith was calling for reinforcements, her head thrown back like that of a wolf summoning the hunt.

The ground started to shudder as a dozen explosions detonated around the perimeter of the complex, and Sheppard felt a fierce swell of pride. His people. These were his people. Getting his feet under him, he tried to run, but he wasn't fast enough. The Wraith woman lifted her hand again, firing an energy blast right at him. The room was quaking, knocking her off balance, and the blast scorched past his ear as he flung himself to the ground. His hand slid in the blood oozing from the dead warrior, but there was no time for revulsion. The Wraith was stalking him, her distorted face now twisted with a hatred stronger than hunger. Her hand lifted again, closing in for the kill.

Desperate, Sheppard scooted backward. Ford was firing again, more Wraith were pressing into the room, but Sheppard had no weapon and the female Wraith was advancing. Her mouth opened like an animal's maw, and he had nothing to- From the corner of his eye he saw it; the forked weapon of the fallen Wraith warrior. Snatching it up he rammed it into the creature's gut. She screamed, arching her back, and he pressed home the advantage as she fell to her knees. Sick with repugnance Sheppard rammed the weapon right through her, until her stomach was nothing but a sticky fountain of black blood and she collapsed to the ground. "Okay," he grated through his disgust, "that has to kill you."

Letting go of the weapon he sank back, shaky with adrenaline and the after-effects of the Wraith weapon. For a few moments all he could hear was his own rasping breaths and then, slowly, he realized that everything was silent. No more Wraith were coming. Still breathing heavily he turned to Ford, who was staring at the creature at their feet with mingled horror and fascination. "How'd you find me?"

The kid glanced over, attempting a smile. "Tread marks. Standard issue." So much for Ancient tracking devices… "Sir, let's go."

It was a good idea. With effort Sheppard dragged himself to his feet, feeling weaker than he'd ever admit, and stared down at the Wraith. She wasn't dead yet, even after all that. Blood seeped darkly from her mouth, her black eyes misting grey, but she smiled anyway. "You don't know what you've done," she hissed. "We are merely the caretakers for those who sleep. When I die, the others will awaken…" Her failing breath was a whisper, a triumphant whisper. "All of them."

All of them? Her words stirred the hairs at the back of Sheppard's neck as he retrieved the tracking device that lay discarded on the table.

"What's she talking about?" Ford asked nervously. "How many are left?"

Sheppard didn't answer, staring intently at the tracker. All around them he could see white dots blooming, like snow falling on icy ground. Too many to distinguish one from the other. All over, all around. They were surrounded! He did a swift three-sixty, expecting to see Wraith pouring in from all sides, but there was nothing. Only a deep rumble that seemed to be coming from the very depths of the fortress. As if the thing were stirring, coming back to life.

He was breathing fast, heart pumping wildly and clearing his head. He needed a weapon, he needed to find his people and get the hell out. But where were the enemy, where the hell were the enemy? He scanned the room again. Nothing. Or… The soft sound came from far above. Glancing up, he froze.

Above him the honeycomb dome was coming to life. Hundreds, thousands, of individual cells glowed with a sickly orange light, and inside them… Oh God! He started back in horror, but couldn't look away. Inside each cell something writhed, like a maggot struggling to life. Like a thousand maggots. Suddenly an arm stabbed through the side of one of the leathery cells, a Wraith arm, and the entire room filled with a sickening, hungering hiss.

Holy crap, what have we done?

A noise from behind made him jerk around. The fallen Warriors were sitting up, lumbering to their feet like the undead. Ford loosed a volley and put them down again, but for how long?

"Sir!" Ford yelled. "We need to leave!"

He wasn't gonna argue with that. With one final glance at the waking nest of Wraith, Sheppard began to run, Ford close on his heels. The corridors were still dark, despite the ominous rumbling, and the further away from the nest, or the hive, the quieter it became. All he could hear was the beat of their running feet and the rasp of his breathing, but he knew they were right behind them. They had to be. He risked a quick glance at the tracking device, and saw that he and Ford were alone for the moment. For now. That was good, they could- Suddenly a small group of bandits appeared on the screen, dead ahead.

"Hold up!" he hissed to Ford, diving for a defensive position. Ford hunkered down on the opposite side of the corridor. Perhaps if they could take the Wraith by surprise…

Suddenly the air was filled with distant shrieking, just like the noise the female Wraith had made, only this time it was a discordant choir of voices. Thousands of voices. They were coming. They were coming for him and his team. Ahead he could hear footsteps approaching and signaled the countdown to Ford. Three, two, one. Go!

As one they turned out into the corridor, ready to fire and- Teyla stood before him, flanked by her people and two security officers, all frozen with shock.

Thank God…

Despite the situation Teyla seemed more composed than either of Sheppard or Ford, and was the first to speak. "Colonel Sumner? Toran?"

He shook his head. "No."

She absorbed the news without surprise or comment — maybe she'd known all along that his rescue attempt would be futile — and together they headed out. It felt like running ahead of the flood. You can't see the water coming, but you can hear it, and you know it's right there and if you let it overtake you, you're dead. The corridors were empty, but the deep rumbling and muffled screeching didn't abate for a second. The Wraith were coming.

At last Sheppard broke from the damp corridors and into the chill air of the planet. The faint scent of pine and organic decay was an overwhelming relief as he led them all slipping and sliding down the rocks they'd climbed only a few hours ago. Over the tops of the trees he could see a giant red sun sinking behind the mountain fortress, and- Oh crap.

His radio squawked. "Major!" It was Stackhouse, back at the ship, and he sounded edgy. "The Jumper is secure for the moment, but we have a big problem."

"I know." Sheppard could see it for himself, he could see the Wraith ships pouring out of the fortress on all sides — black darts against the blood-red sunset, looking for a kill. "We're on our way."

He didn't have to issue any orders, they all just hightailed it through the trees as fast as possible. But he knew it wouldn't be fast enough because the Wraith weren't human — they were faster, stronger, more deadly. They'd be on his team before they got anywhere near the Jumper. He needed a line of defense. "Ford!" he barked. "Take our six." It felt like giving the kid a suicide mission, but he had no choice. "I'll get these people to the Jumper." He was the only one who could fly it.

The lieutenant didn't hesitate. "Be right behind you!"

Forging ahead, Sheppard sensed Ford fall back. But not just Ford. Out the corner of his eyes, he saw Teyla slow. He almost yelled at her to pick up the pace, but she didn't have to follow his orders. And she knew what she was doing. She knew the Wraith, which was half the battle. He let her go, let her stay behind to help her own people while he led the rest of them to safety. He hoped.

It was quiet, alone in the trees without the gasps and heavy footfalls of the others. Even the animals seemed to be quiet. No birds, no rustling in the leaves. Maybe they didn't exist on this planet, or maybe — like him — they sensed something in the air. A creeping, ice-cold danger. Overhead a lone Wraith ship screeched past, but didn't stop, and it didn't spot him. Ford tracked it with his weapon, but held his fire. They were escaping, not engaging the enemy.

He sped up, satisfied that they weren't beingSomething flickered, just on the periphery of his vision. With a start, he swung his P90 around and loosed a short burst into the trees. It echoed in the eerie silence. His heart was hammering now, he could hear it pulsing in his ears, obscuring other sounds. Sounds of the enemy. It felt like they were all around, creeping through the trees. Stalking him. Their dead white faces, ravening mouths… His fingers clenched hard around his weapon, itching to sweep the whole area, to flush them out. He spun abruptly, feeling eyes on his back. Nothing. Nothing but trees and shadows.

He was getting disoriented now. Which way had he come? Which way was the Jumper? Damn it. He knew better than this. He knew-

A shadow crossed right in front of his path. Heart leaping into his throat, he emptied half a clip before a hand grabbed the weapon. He yelled, about to ram its butt into the face of the enemy when-

"There is nothing there." It was Teyla, holding his weapon fast and staring him right in the eye.

Breathing hard, he said, "I saw something in the trees."

"Only what the Wraith wish you to see. Firing your weapon will reveal our position." She released her hold on the P90 and turned to leave. "Come on!"

Shaken, barely trusting his own eyes anymore, Ford focused on Teyla's lithe figure darting through the trees. She was sure and confident of the way, and he simply followed. At times like this, a little local knowledge went a long, long way.

Sheppard barely let himself believe that they'd made it as he dragged the exhausted escapees out of the forest and into the small clearing. The Jumper was right there, Stackhouse and his men deployed all around, fingers twitchy on their weapons. He rose from cover as Sheppard approached, nodding a greeting. But as Sheppard jogged toward the Jumper, he noticed Halling and the others holding back. They were staring at the ship in shock, or was it awe? Either way, they didn't have time for it. "Go on, get in," he urged.

They didn't need asking twice, but as the shattered men and women packed into the small hold of the Jumper, Halling was looking around in sudden concern. "Where's Teyla?"

Sheppard glanced back the way they'd come. He gave a mental count of five, but there was nothing. It stank like trouble, and he'd be damned if he left anyone behind on this hellish world. He wouldn't leave a dog behind for the Wraith. He glanced over at Stackhouse — at the street sweeper he was holding — and gestured for the weapon. It felt good in his hands, heavy and powerful. A P90 might not take out the Wraith, but even they couldn't stand up to this damn thing.

"Everyone on the ship," he ordered. "Lock it up and wait. I'm not gonna be long." One way or the other, he'd be back to fly these people out.

Ignoring his fatigue, Sheppard raced back through the trees the way they'd come. He could hear the whine of Wraith ships overhead, but beneath the trees he had some cover and they didn't spot him. He could see the shadows though, flickering at the edge of his vision. Mindful of Teyla's warning, he payed no attention to them. Mind games. Just games. He kept moving, his run slowing to a cautious creep the further he got from the Jumper. They couldn't be too far back, Ford had been covering their six, not on recon. He'd have stayed pretty close. But if there'd been trouble…

A Wraith ship passed low overhead, its engine noise setting the leaves shaking, and suddenly a bright white beam lanced down through the trees. Sheppard's heart jolted. If it had a target, it could only be Ford and Teyla. Damn it! The image of the maggot-like Wraith, writhing in their cells, filled his head and he lurched into a low run. He refused to let them be taken again — he'd put a bullet in their heads before he let them die like Sumner.

The scoop beam was cutting through the forest, and Sheppard ducked behind a wide trunk as it skimmed past him. He turned, following its trail, just in time to see Teyla dive sideways into Ford and push him out of its path. The ship was looping around for another go as Teyla and Ford struggled to their feet, and the beams were hitting the ground like tracers, heading inexorably toward them. It was over, it was over unless…

Sheppard broke cover, the Street Sweeper aimed right over the heads of his friends. It was a long shot — literally — and the ship was moving fast, but John Sheppard had always had a good eye. He opened up the weapon and kept it open, shells falling all around. Something hit home. Thank God, something hit home. The ship shuddered and banked, and the beam winked out.

Breathless, Ford scrambled back to his feet, pulling Teyla after him. "Thank you, sir!"

Lowering the weapon, arms almost numb from the recoil, Sheppard was already moving. "Let's not make a habit of this!" he called over his shoulder.

Ford just grinned his answer as he and Teyla fell in behind Sheppard and they sprinted back to the clearing. Sheppard's lungs were on fire by the time they made it to the ship, Ford was breathing hard, but Teyla looked like she'd just taken a walk in the park as she slowed, staring at the Jumper in astonishment. He wondered what she'd make of a Black Hawk.

"This is one of the Ancestors' ships," she breathed softly. "I've seen them in the drawings." She turned to him, eyes wide. "Does that mean…?"

"No," he answered shortly. "We're just like you." Only we're in way over our heads, way over our heads…

"Incoming!" Stackhouse yelled. A Wraith dart was bearing down on them, making an attack run.

"Get into the ship!" Sheppard yelled, all-but pushing Teyla ahead of him. They needed to be in the air. Now! He pushed past the frightened passengers and flung himself into the pilot's seat. "Okay," he growled at the controls. "Now what am I thinking?"

Stealth mode. Stealth mode. Stealth mode…

He saw the flicker over the window as he brought the ship into the air and watched the Wraith dart zip past, bank and turn for another pass. It had lost them. For the first time in forever, Sheppard allowed himself a moment of relief. "Everybody alright?" he called, glancing over his shoulder.

They were packed in tight, but thankful to be alive. He could see it in their faces, the mixture of astonishment, shock and gratitude. Only Teyla seemed composed, and she nodded her thanks at him. "We are well enough."

He gave her a smile, impressed. She was an impressive woman.

She might have smiled back, but Ford pushed past to reach the co-pilot's seat and broke the moment. Sheppard made a mental note to talk to him about that later, but for now he was pretty happy to have someone up front with him. The kid sank into the chair and let out a deep breath. "I hope that was the hard part."

Which sounded distinctly like famous last words. He'd have to talk to him about that too. Later, once they were all safely back home. Well, back to Atlantis which, he guessed, was the same thing now.

By the time the Jumper punched out of the atmosphere and into the darkness of space Sheppard's breathing had returned to normal, and he'd almost let himself relax. Almost. Then he saw the Stargate. It was beautiful, hanging like a magical ring above the planet below, the sunlight glinting against its surface.

Would have looked even better without the dozen Wraith darts that sat like hissing cobras right in front of it, blocking their escape. Crap. He flung Ford a dry look.

"I don't think we've got to the hard part yet."

Chapter Ten

The burden of command. It was a cliche, Weir reflected, but one she should have thought about in more depth before agreeing to take this post. The burden of command… Right now, as she sat in her makeshift ready room with this amazing — astonishing — city coming to life around her, all she could think about was Major Sheppard and the five men she'd sent out after the Wraith.

If they died, the responsibility would rest on her shoulders. And they wouldn't be the last. Every man, woman — and now, child — in the city was her responsibility. Their lives, their welfare, everything rested with her. These were her people, a bizarre little autocracy of which she had been appointed leader. She wasn't entirely sure this was what she'd signed up for, or, if it was, that she'd actually thought it through. What if they were here for ten years? Twenty years? What if they never got home? She couldn't act as a de facto government, unelected and unaccountable. That wasn't in the job description, that wasn't-

"We're starting to get reports from all over the city." McKay's voice, bursting with restrained excitement, startled her. She hadn't even heard him approach. "There's some pretty interesting stuff. We can only provide power to certain sections, but-"

"I should never have let them go." Her people, whom she'd placed in harm's way. She should have kept them safe, kept them where she could see them.

McKay was silent for a moment, readjusting his derailed thoughts. "For what it's worth," he said at last, "you made the right decision." His gaze followed hers to the inactive gate. "Give them time."

Sure. Why not? She had nothing else to give them, after all.

As blockades went, it was pretty damn effective. A dozen Wraith ships right in front of the Stargate; there was no way they were getting through that without a fight. And John Sheppard wasn't sure he liked the odds.

From the back of the Jumper he heard movement, and turned to see Teyla come to stand behind the pilot's seat. She seemed unfazed by the whole adventure, and he found himself pretty struck by her. She'd had a bad day, but you'd never know it to look at her calm and collected features.

"What can we do?" Teyla asked quietly, gazing out at the Stargate. The Wraith darts looked like sharp teeth, or daggers.

Ford shifted nervously. "We're safe as long as they can't see us."

"They don't have to," Sheppard pointed out. He hated to be the voice of doom, but facts were facts. "There's only one way for us to go. The moment we activate the Stargate they can start firing blind, and blow us away on our approach."

"Then how are we going to-?"

"We'll have to draw them away from the gate," Sheppard decided. With barely a touch on the controls the ship began to respond, instinctive as a lover. "We'll draw them away from the gate, then double back."

He felt it and saw it at the same time, the subtle flutter that told him the cloak had deactivated. The Wraith saw it at exactly the same moment, all but two breaking formation to come after them as Sheppard punched the controls and banked hard, away from the Stargate.

"Stand by to dial the gate on my command!" The whole plan rested on speed; if the Jumper was faster than the Wraith darts then they were home free. If not… A volley of weapons fire streaked past, coming from behind; a couple hit home and the Jumper bucked hard, the jolt almost knocking Teyla off her feet. Someone was on their tail. Damn it. "D'you see anything like a weapons console?"

No need to ask. God, he loved this ship! Even as he thought it, a single drone — just like the one that had almost blown him out of the sky over Antarctica — flared out of the Jumper and locked onto the Wraith.

"That did it!" Ford yelled in glee as the drone hit home. The Wraith ship exploded in a huge fireball; those things packed one hell of a punch. One down, too many to go.

Sheppard turned the ship back toward the gate, the entire pack on his tail now. Time to disappear! Only they didn't. Two direct hits and the Jumper lurched hard to the side. Cloak! Go invisible! Stealth mode! Nothing. Crap. He could feel the shields weakening, each impact shaking the Jumper until his teeth rattled. Another hit, and he was almost flung out of his seat. Cursing, he grabbed onto the console. Damn Ancients could invent Stargates, but not seatbelts?

Ford was yelling, bracing himself with one hand against the bulkhead. "Try to go invisible again!"

"I tried, it must be damaged…" Another hit; he could feel the shield shiver, almost fail. "Dial the gate!"

They had to leave, and leave fast.

Without hesitation, Ford dialed home. Almost instantly the Stargate sprang to life, lights racing each other around its rim until they locked in place. There was a moment, a brief hesitation that seemed to hang forever in the void, and then the wormhole exploded out into space. Sheppard had half hoped that the two Wraith ships guarding the gate would be swallowed by the event horizon, but its blue-white fountain stopped a breath away from them; they obviously knew what they were doing. Instead of being consumed, the Wraith darts opened fire.

Sheppard returned the favor, unleashing another drone before breaking off his approach and cutting left. "Be ready to punch in your code on the next pass," he told Ford.

The lieutenant dragged the GDO out of his vest pocket. "What's the range on these things?"

Good question. Shame he didn't have an answer. "I don't know, I've never used one before!" He started another run at the gate, taking a pounding from the Wraith ships, but holding course. He had to get close enough for the damn thing to work… As he arced up and over the gate he yelled, "Enter your code, now!"

Ford stabbed at the device; he looked like he was saying a prayer.

Pulling back up, Sheppard came around again — this time for the final pass, through a hail of enemy fire. With an adrenaline-fuelled grin he glanced over his shoulder at their startled passengers. "Hang on!"

It was about to get interesting.

It was the quiet that felt wrong. Despite the low-level hum of conversation and machinery, Atlantis seemed too quiet. It was as if everyone were holding their breaths, waiting. From her ready room, Weir could see the Stargate, she could see Grodin in the control room, hunched over computers and talking softly to himself. She could see the soldiers guarding the gate, their eyes like hers drawn inexorably to its immovable presence.

It was possible, she knew, that it would never activate. That Sheppard and his team would never return. It was possible that their enemy might open the gate instead, that the scourge of the Ancients might return to take them. It was possible that-

A glyph on the gate suddenly lit up, then another. And another.

"Off-world activation!" Grodin yelled from the control room.

Weir was moving before he'd said the first word, barreling breathlessly into the control room and almost colliding with McKay as she yelled. "Activate the shield!"

A sheet of energy fizzed over the gate, flaring white as the wormhole engaged.

"Do we have an IDC?" Please let it be Sheppard. Please let it be them…

But Grodin shook his head. "Not yet."

"It'll take a few seconds for any signal to reach us." McKay pushed past her, hovering behind Grodin. "We just have to give them a few-" His finger stabbed at the screen. "Reading Lieutenant Ford's IDC!"

Yes! "Drop the shield!"

With an electronic hiss it was gone, leaving the blue shimmer of the Stargate naked before them. Weir held her breath, willing Sheppard to step through, or fly through, or-

A blast of weapons fire spat from the Stargate, exploding against the gate room wall with a deafening impact. "Holy-" She ducked behind the console, McKay at her side, looking extremely pale. He opened his mouth to speak, when another blast hit. Sparks flew, filling the air with ozone and smoke, and he dropped to the deck.

"Give them a few more seconds!" Weir yelled, in answer to his unasked questions. They were so close. So close! She wasn't going to slam the door on them now.

The target was locked, the watery surface of the open gate beckoning him home. There was no way Major John Sheppard was changing course. Enemy fire came from all over, the ship twisted and bucked, but he fought to hold course. Unlike piloting a helicopter, this effort was all mental. No stick to yank, no switches to flick. He was flying with nothing more than goddamn stubborn willpower.

It seemed to be working.

"We're going too fast!" Ford yelled, but his voice was distant.

"I know!" He vividly remembered O'Neill warning him that the velocity on entering the Stargate matched the velocity on exit.

The gate room was small, but this thing had to have good brakes. Right? But it was too late to worry, the gate was right there, the shields were failing and if they didn't leave now…

The wormhole had them, stripped them apart at lightning speed, flung them in every direction and once, and spat them out the other end. The gate room appeared in a blur, inertial dampeners cutting the breakneck deceleration as something grabbed them. Some kind of energy field that danced around them; the Ancient equivalent of the wires on a naval carrier.

Behind them the defense shield flared white once, twice, three times. Three Wraith darts that wouldn't bug anybody ever again. Then, like a breath exhaled in relief, the Stargate shut down. Sheppard glanced over at Ford, who was grinning with exhilaration, and they touched fists. It was the closest thing to a victory dance his exhausted mind and body could contemplate. Behind them, Teyla's people were staring around in awe, knocked sideways by the ride. He didn't blame them. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Atlantis," he said with a smile. "Please wait until the Puddle Jumper comes to a complete stop."

Ford snorted a quiet laugh at the lame joke, and Sheppard slumped back into his chair as the whine of the engines began to fade. It was quite possible that he was too tired to ever move again, and he wondered idly if they'd let him sleep right here…

They didn't, of course. He had to endure too many enthusiastic backslaps, a long debrief, and an even longer medical exam before someone — by that stage he was too tired to even care — pointed him in the direction of a small room and a bed. Collapsing, face down, on military-issue blankets, he didn't even bother to take off his boots. But sleep, so desperately desired, didn't come straightaway. His mind was too full. Or, perhaps it was his soul…

Sumner was gone, and Sheppard knew the Colonel's death would haunt him forever. He'd pulled the trigger. Maybe he'd had no choice, but he'd done it anyway. He'd pulled the trigger and the man was dead. An arrogant SOB he might have been, but somewhere he had a mother, or a father, a wife, or a child. Someone who'd never see him again, someone who would mourn him. It wasn't the first life Sheppard had taken, but it was the first friendly life he'd taken. The first human being who'd looked him in the eye and begged for death.

John Sheppard wasn't a praying man, but right then he prayed that he'd never see that look again. Not in anyone's eyes, not ever.

But there were other memories too. He'd seen Teyla shepherding her people away to rest and safety in Atlantis, seen the look of heartfelt thanks in her eyes as she'd smiled at him. He'd seen the kid, Jinto, racing down the stairs and into his father's arms. He'd seen the utter joy and relief in Halling's face, seen his tears of happiness.

It was a good end to a bad day. He knew there would be worse days to come, days that didn't end so well, but his future here was impossible to imagine and there was no point in trying. All he could tell himself was that he'd done the right thing.

And he had. He'd gone after his people, he'd brought most of them home, and those he hadn't saved he'd freed. Sumner was gone, but he'd gone on his own terms. It was enough. It was enough to let him sleep at night. And really, what more did a guy like him need but a fast ship, a galaxy to explore and a good night's sleep?

Life, he mused as he drifted off, was about to get interesting.

The party had been her idea. Her first act as leader of this base that hadn't involved putting people's lives in danger. They needed to bond, not just the expedition members but the Ethosians too — Teyla's people. Dr. Elizabeth Weir hadn't spent her entire career in international relations for nothing. She'd learned the importance of a good party in cementing friendships.

They had food, music, and some kind of Ethosian drink that knocked your socks off. People were laughing, were learning to feel at home, were building bridges that might have to last them a lifetime. It was good, she thought, as she stepped out onto the wide balcony overlooking the endless ocean. It was a good night.

Far above, the sky was lit in Technicolor by what McKay assured her was a nebular. She'd been less concerned with what it was than what it looked like, and it looked amazing. Its beauty seemed to match the grace of Atlantis, all muted colors and ethereal light that reflected off the still waters surrounding them. This place had a splendor that was, quite literally, unearthly, and she couldn't imagine ever taking it for granted.

Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze from the sky and focused on the two men she had come to see. John Sheppard and Alden Ford — Sheppard's protege, she thought with a smile. They'd done so much, in so short a time. They'd made friends and enemies, and struck a blow for the basic human credo of freedom, fairness, and hope.

It wasn't a bad start, and it deserved a celebration. She glanced down at the tin cups in her hand with a rueful grin; elegance wasn't top of their list of priorities. But she didn't approach immediately; she hung back and let their quiet words drift toward her on the evening breeze.

"I guess this is home now," Ford was saying, gazing out over the vast city below them.

"For a while," the Major acknowledged. He sounded thoughtful, almost distracted.

Ford pointed. "I'm thinking of a little place with an ocean view. Out of the way."

With a smile, Weir drew closer. "Major, Lieutenant," she said, offering them both a cup of champagne, "Compliments of General O'Neill."

Sheppard flashed her a wide grin that somehow seemed brittle, and clinked his cup against hers. "Cheers!"

But he downed it in one, and Weir sensed that this didn't feel like a celebration for him. Drawing closer, she said, "You did good, John."

He looked away, staring out over the ocean. "I don't know about that."

Doubts? Who'd have thought Major Overconfident would have doubts? "There was no way you could have saved Colonel Sumner."

"Still have to live with it…"

So do I, Weir thought, but she didn't say anything out loud. That was her burden to carry.

After a moment Sheppard looked at her, shaking his head. "I've been thinking you were right. I may have made things much worse." He sighed. "I didn't make us many friends."

"No?" She smiled at that. "Look around you." In the distance she could see the Ethosian man, Halling, touching foreheads with his son — it looked like their traditional form of greeting, or expression of affection. And behind them many others, talking with expedition members, in small, smiling groups of their own. They had friends here.

"I agree, Major Sheppard." The lilting accent belonged to Teyla, who'd come to join them. She smiled, but it was for Sheppard alone as she deliberately took the cup from his hand and rested it on the balcony railing. Then, moving close — right into his space — she placed her hands on his shoulders and touched her forehead to his. It was an intimate gesture, and from the corner of her eye Weir caught sight of McKay. He was standing with Dr. Beckett and watching the scene with raised eyebrows. She was just wondering if she should chivvy McKay and the others off the balcony when, in a clear voice, Teyla said, "You have earned both my friendship, and that of my people."

Weir smiled at the public gesture — and the private one. Yes, Major Sheppard was definitely making friends.

"How come I never make friends like that?" The complaint came from Carson Beckett, at the other end of the balcony.

At his side, McKay shrugged and took another bite of the Ethosian delicacy he was chewing. Some kind of meat on a stick; Weir hadn't investigated too closely. "You need to get out more," McKay suggested between mouthfuls.

"We're in another galaxy," the doctor pointed out. "This is as out as you can get!"

McKay's answer was forestalled by a sudden look of horror. He couldn't swallow what was in his mouth and looked like he was about to gag. "I think there's lemon in this…" Weir hid her amusement; trust McKay to fancy himself allergic to the first alien dish he tried!

Ignoring McKay's complaints, Teyla moved away from Sheppard and turned to smile at Weir. She had a nice smile, Elizabeth thought. Open, honest, and trustworthy. "With our help," Teyla said, "you will meet many more friends." Then she glanced once more at Sheppard. "Come. My people wish to thank you.

Taking his hand, she started to pull him away, but Weir stopped him. "One more thing, Major…"

With a nod of her head, she beckoned him to her side. Out of earshot. In a quiet voice she said, "Just something I'd like you to sleep on. I have a few thoughts on it myself, but-"

"Thoughts about what?"

Her gaze drifted back to Teyla. "Who the members of your team might be."

"My team?" He seemed genuinely bemused.

"You're the ranking military officer now," she pointed out. "Or do you have to be reminded of that?" Heaven knew, he'd reminded her enough times. She lifted her chin, fixing him with a serious look. "We need to get out there and do what we came to do."

He cocked his head. "You realize that could get us into all sorts of trouble…"

Weir smiled, and he returned it with a grin of his own. This was going to work, she realized suddenly. This relationship was going to work, and if that worked then everything else would fall into place. She could trust this man, and she saw respect in his eyes now. Respect for her and for the mission they shared.

"Good night, Major."

"Good night."

She watched him leave, side by side with Teyla Emmagan, before returning her gaze to the sprawling, alien city below her. This was the beginning, the start of a new life. They already had new friends and new enemies, and before them stretched an entire galaxy of discovery. Thoughts of Earth were distant now, separated by an experience that no one else could share. This was home now — this place, these people were her life's work. And, given time and a fair wind, she hoped to guide them to discoveries beyond the dreams of imagination.

Atlantis. It was the past, the present, and the future. Not just for herself, but for all people. For all humanity. And she would not fail in her task. With these people beside her, she could not fail.

She smiled, she grinned. She laughed! She felt more alive now then ever before in her entire life! The future of the human race was about to change forever and she, Elizabeth Weir, was at the vanguard.

She simply couldn't wait to get started…

Content

Sally Malcolm
StarGate: Atlantis
Rising

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten