Blood Ties

Chapter twelve

Cheyenne Mountain, while an ideal location for a topsecret military program, lacked a couple of things most people would consider key features of an Air Force installation: aircraft and a runway. John had always done his best to not hold that against the place. Tonight, it meant that they'd needed to take a ride across town to Peterson Air Force Base in order to catch their flight.

Stepping out of the car next to the base's Operations building, he felt the evening mountain wind slice through his clothes. The snow flurries were also coming down with more vigor than before. Desert camouflage BDUs, unsurprisingly, weren't the warmest gear around, but he'd gotten used to a little cold in Antarctica. In front of him, Rebecca had put on her wool coat over the BDUs she'd gotten on loan from a member of SG-7. Five yards ahead of both of them, Jackson walked briskly toward the waiting plane, oblivious to the white flakes settling in his hair.

Rebecca waited and fell into step with John. "Sounds like there may be some related cases in Iraq after all."

"I'm sure the coalition leadership would like to see us prove that those civilian deaths were due to something other than white phosphorus." They'd been briefed in the car about their cover story for the visit, which wasn't really a cover at all. On and off for the past couple of years, there had been allegations that the coalition had killed Iraqi civilians through the use of white phosphorus weapons against insurgents. The U.S. Army maintained that the incendiary WP had been used primarily for illumination, not as an antipersonnel weapon; still, the burned bodies offered damning evidence, despite the fact that most of them had been found inside undamaged buildings with no trace of burning anywhere nearby. Since the condition of those bodies closely resembled that of the purported cult victims in Colorado Springs and elsewhere, they had good reason to investigate them. If that gave Jackson an opportunity to hunt down whatever information he needed in Baghdad, well, that was just convenient.

"Of course, if we can prove that some kind of alien influence caused those deaths, the white phosphorus explanation actually might be more palatable to all concerned," Rebecca pointed out.

"That's above our pay grade." John lengthened his stride to catch up with the archeologist. "So. What's in Baghdad?"

"More than you can imagine." Jackson started to climb the stairs that led onto the aircraft. "Before I was approached to join the Stargate program, I spent a considerable amount of my postdoctoral fellowship at the Iraq National Museum. They have-or had, prior to the lootings in 2003 — the single finest collection of Mesopotamian historical documents in the world."

Following him up, John stepped onto the C-20. All of his previous MILAIR flights had involved a webbed foldout seat in the aft section of a noisy, frigid transport, so he could see why these jets were used for `distinguished visitors.' The cabin layout made the most of its space, the plush seats oriented to allow passengers to face each other. "And we need something out of Mesopotamian history?"

Jackson nodded, selecting a seat on the left side of the cabin as if it were his accustomed spot-which, John mused, it might well be. "The first recorded reference to Lilith, also known as Lilitu or Ninlil, appears in Gilgamesh."

A shuffling thud behind John caused him to turn around in the aisle. Rebecca had stumbled over the raised threshold of the aircraft door and caught herself on the bulkhead. Flushing slightly, she raised her head and covered her misstep by joining the conversation. "I've read Gilgamesh, more than once. It's the cornerstone of most UFO cults. They view it, along with Genesis 6, as a literal history of warring alien gods com ing to Earth and creating mankind…" Chewing her lower lip, she offered them a weak shrug. "At least put my mind at ease and tell me Elvis isn't really alive and well and on another planet."

"No, he's not," Jackson replied. "Alec Colson is, though."

Her grin vanished when Jackson continued without missing a beat, "The Gilgamesh is a literal history; just one that was interpreted by writers of that period in the best way they could comprehend."

While John stowed his duffel and claimed a seat across the aisle, Jackson gave their FBI colleague an understanding smile. "That's all anyone, in any era, can hope to accomplish."

"I suppose" Rebecca slid into the rear-facing seat across from John.

"Gilgamesh documents the Ancients' arrival on Earth, among other things," Jackson continued. "Based on what Vala and I learned from Morgan le Fay-"

"Morgan le Fay," repeated Rebecca, looking as though she didn't have enough energy left to react with surprise one more time. "As in Merlin's nemesis'?"

"That's the one, although it turns out she was actually protecting Merlin. That's neither here nor there at the moment. The epic of Gilgamesh appears to explain the fate of several Ancients, both in Atlantis and on Earth. Specifically, Gilgamesh built a sanctuary for Ninlil, as Lilith was called in the Babylonian text, in the city ofUruk after she was banished `from the heavens'. Which presumably refers to her escape through the Stargate from Atlantis."

Since Jackson seemed oblivious to the fact that he'd figuratively left his audience in the dust, John spoke up. "Not to call attention to my ignorance or anything, but can someone tell me who this Gilgamesh was?"

The aircrew secured the cabin door, and before long the whine of an idling turbofan engine could be heard. "A Sumerian king," Jackson answered. "Sumer was in the south ern region of Mesopotamia, now Iraq. Uruk is known today as Warka."

"There can't be much left of the original city after ten thousand years."

"I don't expect so, especially since Lilith must have left or been run out by the other Lanteans." Jackson clicked his seatbelt into place, prompting the others to do likewise. "Based on later texts, it appears she fled to Egypt, where she continued her genetic experiments. In fact, that might explain some of the chimeras that Ra had in his service, at least for a time."

As the aircraft taxied into position on the runway, John reached into his pocket and withdrew a package of cookies. At Rebecca's raised eyebrow, he held it out to her, but she shook her head.

"Hey, half my blood's back in the SGC infirmary," he defended. He was pretty sure Lam could test him for every known ailment under several systems' suns with the number of samples she'd taken. Besides, he'd never gotten his share of the Oreos Rodney had scavenged out of the storeroom, and he suspected it hadn't been an oversight on his friend's part. Just for that, he'd asked for lemonade when the medical techs had offered him something to drink. Sure, it was winter, but he liked lemonade, and for once Rodney wasn't around to screech about its toxic qualities.

The acceleration of the jet pushed John back into the wellpadded seat, and he watched as the lights of the Peterson flight line whizzed past before shrinking below them. When his cookie was gone, he turned his head toward Jackson. "I understand that the investigation into the potential victims in Iraq gives us an opening to do some poking around over there, but couldn't you get everything you need out of this book about Gilgamesh without wandering into a war zone'?"

"Not everything. Translations often lack nuances of context. The modern version of the book is an English interpretation of a set of broken tablets, inscribed in one of the world's oldest written languages. These tablets were stored-"

"At the Iraq National Museum," John finished. "Didn't someone ever take pictures of them?"

"Of course, but the tablets are only a secondary aspect of the story. When I was undertaking research at the Museum, I came across several unusual scrolls in the archives that had never been translated. At the time, I was focused on Egyptian history, so I mostly noted the style of the text and moved on." Jackson leaned on his armrest and faced them. "It wasn't until much later that I learned to recognize lettering of that type as Ancient."

"Still sounds like a long shot," Rebecca said, making an obvious effort to bring herself back to the conversation. "For all we know it could be a laundry list."

When John snorted softly, Jackson said, "Actually, she's right. The only reason we have such an incredible picture of ancient Sumer and Babylon was because of their meticulous detailing of the utterly banal-like laundry and shopping lists." Gaze shifting to Rebecca, he added, "Which is why we're hoping McKay and his people can trace Lilith's last movements in the Pegasus Galaxy. Between that and whatever we can find in Baghdad, we should get a better idea of just what we're dealing with."

John looked at Rebecca and saw that her expression illustrated his own thoughts. Neither of them felt fully prepared to take on a plot that spanned ten thousand years and two galaxies. Even so, she was a professional investigator, and he had three years of experience with assorted Ancient ventures. By teaming up they'd be able to unravel this.

It wasn't as if they had many other options.

"You'll have to forgive me for being less than confident in Dr. McKay's investigative abilities." Rebecca leaned back against her seat.

Again, John had the vague sense that she was just making conversation while her mind was focused on something else. He reminded himself that she was a profiler; she saw the world with a completely different set of eyes than most peo ple, and through the dark-side version of rose-tinted glasses.

"Don't let his shaky social graces fool you. He's the smartest person I've ever met, and we have a lot of very smart people on Atlantis." John idly rolled the loose end of the seatbelt between his fingers. "Give him a puzzle to solve and he'll get it done, no matter what. He's just twitchy about the possibility of having Wraith genes. Biology's not his favorite field, and the thought of something being able to take over his mind-"

"Excuse me?" Rebecca paled. "What makes you think that could happen?"

"A member of my team has Wraith DNA. Probably not the same as the occurrences here on Earth, though, since her people are native to Pegasus and were subjected to Wraith experimentation."

Her lips tightened fractionally. "Experimentation?"

"To make them taste better, as it turned out. The Ancients experimented on making people less appetizing, but Lilith's recipes here on Earth seem to have featured more than a pinch of Wraith." And if the profiler hadn't been freaked out before, this would definitely do the trick. "The upshot of it all is that Teyla sometimes can make telepathic contact with the Wraith. Not too long ago a very powerful hive queen took complete control of her mind and body. It didn't last long, but add that to everything else that's been happening lately and you've got a prime Rodney McKay anxiety issue."

Rebecca didn't seem as worried as he might have expected. Or maybe she was hiding her concern by studying him. "What about you?" she said.

"You mean, am I okay with the possibility that I might have Wraith DNA?" John wasn't in the mood to tell her about his `bug for a day' episode, which had ensured that he unquestionably carried iratus DNA. Wraith DNA was a few generations removed.

He hoped.

"I can't blame Rodney for getting worked up," he con tinued. "I'm not crazy about the idea, either. At least Teyla's abilities should give us some help. And, for what it's worth, the SGC medical staff has started checking the genetic profiles of everyone in the Stargate program for any fragments of the virus."

"You're telling me you have everyone's DNA on file?"

For some reason, full security clearance or not, he wasn't sure she really needed to know the details of Carson's ATA gene therapy or the disaster formerly known as the Michael Project. He had no reason to distrust her, but while he could categorize her as a colleague, she wasn't exactly one of the team. "Let's just say that there are certain occupational hazards that even dog tags don't survive."

Changing the subject, he said, "What I don't understand is this whole ritual killing thing. If they're trying to get information, what's with the symbols? And the actions of that succubus woman on the video… she almost seemed compassionate."

Rebecca pushed a weary hand through her hair. "Even with everything I've learned today, I've got at least as many questions as I did before. Several aspects of this case still don't add up." She stifled a yawn and glanced toward the rear of the cabin. "Is there anything resembling a bed back there?"

"Should be a couple of couches in the aft compartment," Jackson replied absently. John wondered when he'd had an opportunity to travel in such style in the past. "Probably a good idea for all of us to get some sleep."

"For me it's approaching the point of necessity. I haven't seen the inside of my eyelids for a couple of continents and I have no idea how many days." The aircraft had leveled off, so Rebecca unbuckled her seat belt and stood. "Give me a few hours to clear my mind. Then I'll be ready to reexamine all the victimologies in light of this new…" She shook her head. "I don't think `evidence' covers it. Let's go with `paradigm shift."'

She walked to the back of the plane. Jackson turned on the light over his seat and pulled out one of the bulky texts he'd brought along.

John glanced over at him. "Sleep, huh?"

The other man replied without looking up. "In a while."

If that was how he wanted to spend his time, that was his prerogative, but it was late and John believed in gate lag, so a nap sounded pretty good. Since his time in the military had taught him how to fall asleep just about anywhere, he let Rebecca have the aft compartment to herself and stretched out in his seat.

The moment he closed his eyes, though, his mind turned to his teammates. Jumper Three had probably been on M1M316 for a couple of hours already. Rodney would be ordering Radek around whatever Ancient lab they'd found, while back on Atlantis Elizabeth would be working through the day's schedule. The business of the city always went on, of course. No doubt it would survive without its military commander for a while longer.

Damn it, that was a road he really didn't want to go down right now.

John pulled his BDU cap out of his pants pocket and set it over his eyes. Rebecca's need for sleep and Jackson's penchant for dusty books meant that he'd dodged the standard conversational intimacy that tended to develop on long flights, so all he had to do was focus on preparing himself for Iraq. And the only way to do that was to catch at least a little sleep.