Blood Ties

Chapter twenty-six

"Oh, this looks promising," McKay grumbled over the radio, pulling Rebecca's attention away from the dirty, umber-colored sky. "Colonel, was it your idea of a joke to have me plunk my jumper in the middle of a blackberry thicket? I recall from previous experiences that these jackets offer only minimal protection from brambles."

During the pre-flight briefing, Rebecca had learned that the jumpers would be dispatched to cover the major entrances to the caves. That still left dozens of minor access points, which the Australian Army was moving quickly to secure.

John settled Jumper One gently onto the ground in a glade of tree ferns. "The idea is for you and Dr. Lee to stay in the jumper and work on the frequency modulation system while the Marines secure the area. If you decide to wander outside and go sightseeing, it's up to Lome as to whether or not he feels like rescuing you from the killer blackberry patch."

"Tough call, sir," replied the Major, a smirk in his voice. "Don't know if I'd want to risk it."

Ronon opened the jumper's hatch, and immediately Rebecca could feel the traces of smoke in the air tickling the back of her throat. The threatening fires were going to be a factor here no matter what. She stepped down from the craft and walked a half-dozen paces to the right, taking in the nearby parking lot-empty except for a vacant Land Cruiser bearing a National Parks emblem on the door- and the walkway toward a small shelter. This had to be the main entrance to the caves. She turned back to ask John a question and was caught off-guard to see him step out of thin air.

He flashed a grin at her obvious surprise. "Just in case somebody we don't know happens to pass by."

The cloaking device. She'd been told about it, but this was the first time she'd witnessed it in action. After the steep learning curve of the past few days, it seemed there were still some things to which she hadn't acclimated just yet.

Rebecca heard a murmur behind her and spun around. Only a tree stood there. She shook her head, trying vainly to chase out a creeping sense of fatigue. She hadn't had nearly enough sleep lately to deal with this, but they didn't exactly have time to take a break.

"Com check," John said into his radio. "All scout teams report in."

Marine voices sounded off in rapid succession.

"Alpha here." "Bravo." "Charlie."

"Alpha and Bravo, head out to your assigned areas," John directed. "Any indication of recent activity, let us know ASAP. Charlie, gear up for cave entry. Remember that you're going to have to wade through some water to get where you're going."

"Aye, sir."

John twisted a dial on his handheld radio. "This is Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard, U.S. Air Force, calling local Army command post. Please respond."

"Army here," came the prompt, accented reply. "Captain Rhodes speaking. I take it you're on the ground, then, Colonel?"

"Just landed. Have you been briefed on the situation?"

"Yes, sir. We've secured the main highway twenty kilometers from your position. Haven't yet dispersed patrol teams."

"Hold off on that for the moment," said John. "Our teams have been inoculated against the virus, so we'll take point."

"Understood, sir. Standing by."

"We'll be in touch. USAF out." John glanced up at the sky. "Huh. Wasn't expecting that." — - — - -- -

Rebecca blinked, realizing belatedly that a light snow had begun to fall. "I thought it was summer here."

"Tasmania's weather systems are notoriously fickle," said Dr. Jackson, zipping his jacket. "It's the first stop for wind systems coming straight off Antarctica."

"We probably only have about an hour of sunlight left." John clipped a P-90 to his vest and pressed a button on some kind of remote control to close the jumper's hatch. "Let's get moving."

As they headed down the walkway through a glen of trees neatly labeled to educate tourists, Rebecca got a fleeting look at a rather intimidating gun concealed in a holster under Ronon's coat. These aliens, apparently, didn't mess around.

The entrance's waiting area, where helpful signs detailed the history and geology of the karst area, was empty. His weapon ready, John clicked his radio with one hand. "Rhodes, Sheppard. We were supposed to meet a pair of guides at the cave entrance. Do you know if they were delayed?"

"They passed our checkpoint an hour ago, Colonel. Look for a Toyota Land Cruiser with a National Parks logo on the door."

John cursed under his breath. "Thanks." Cautiously, he approached the metal door that blocked the entrance itself. "Lock's broken."

"As is this one." Teyla stood by a smaller door within the shelter, shining the light affixed to her weapon inside. "There is a radio on the floor in pieces."

Distantly, it occurred to Rebecca that she had a sidearm and that procedure would suggest she ought to have it unhol- stered. She wasn't sure why she hadn't done so earlier, but she made no move to correct the oversight.

"So much for my very faint hope that this might be simple." John exited the shelter and strode back along the path. "Fall back to the jumper."

Once the group was inside the Ancient ship again and the hatch had closed, cleaner, smoke-free air began to circulate. Rebecca drank it in, hoping it might clear her head. She wasn't sure what was wrong with her, why she felt so… disoriented. John was already relaying what they'd found at the cave entrance via satellite phone to General Landry, who was in continuous contact with the Australian authorities. The pilot's steady voice faded into the background as Rebecca hunted around in the jumper's supply locker, looking for something to eat. If she could just find a snack, get some energy back…

A handful of power bars was the best she could do. Sitting down, she tore into one of them and finished it in three bites. It did nothing to help.

The sun might still be above the horizon, but down here in the glade it was already dark, leaving the jumper's interior lights to take over. John stowed the sat-phone and took a seat next to Rebecca on the long bench. She could feel the heat of his irritation. "It's going to be two hours until we can get another guide out here," he reported. "Landry's orders are to wait. The other teams are in place, but we're just going to have to sit tight."

Teyla stood near the closed hatch, a strange expression on her face. "May I go outside?" she asked abruptly. "I will not go far. I merely want to confirm a perception."

John frowned, obviously recognizing her intent. "Something pinging on your radar'?"

The alien woman gave a single nod. "Not in the way a Wraith would, but…I cannot place it."

Tensing almost imperceptibly, John said, "It's starting to sound like we're in the right place. Go ahead. Stay in visual range." He cast a glance at Ronon, who rose to follow Teyla without a word, and activated his radio. "All teams, be on alert. Teyla might have something. Remember, no one is to enter the caves until you hear my order. And stay in pairs or threes at all times. Don't forget what happened to those cops in Germany."

The hatch opened, and Rebecca could see snow beginning to accumulate on the ground outside, marred by scattered gray flecks of ash from the nearby fires. The fire…

"It was afire, Becca. It happened so fast your mom and dad couldn't get out. "

For years her memory of that awful night had centered on nothing more than those words, or words similar to them, but now she recalled the events much more clearly. She hadn't been sleeping over at a friend's house; her parents had brought her to their friends, to people like them, for her protection, because they had sensed what was coming.

"Can you help me put some pieces together?" John's voice brought her back to the present. "Why is it that you're so sure the Lilith followers want to enslave everyone? Is it in their doctrine somewhere?"

She didn't have an answer for him. She'd barely understood the questions through a dull, constant ringing in her ears, like the background noise of a room full ofpeople. It was a struggle just to concentrate. Jackson was giving some kind of response to John, but instead she heard her parents' voices, suddenly crystal-clear after decades of obscurity.

"They know about her. They know she is the one to free us of our inhuman burden. "

The Lilith followers had discovered young Rebecca's existence; they wanted her dead, as they wanted all heretics dead, but her in particular because… because she was the one. Her parents had cultivated those false memories for her and had given them also to the Watchers who had fed on them and then set fire to the house to cover their actions.

Wait. I'm almost there.

Rebecca stiffened. That voice hadn't been a memory. It had been as real and lucid as the conversation between Dr. Jackson and John.

A burning need, almost like hunger but more compelling, began to overtake her.

She knew things now, so many things about her destiny. After the fire she'd been taken from her hometown and helped to vanish into a new life, with a new name-had her aunt even been a real aunt'? Her parents' friends had realized they could not protect her, had deliberately refused to find out where she'd been taken-because if even one of them had known the secret and been fed upon by a Lilith, the truth of her existence would have been exposed.

The sense of purpose that now drove her was almost blinding, as was the hunger… it was hunger, a consuming need to feed that could not be satiated by any number of power bars.

Resist, Rebecca. We're on the way; we'll help you find what you need.

She understood that need, the desperate hunger that drove men and women to commit unspeakable acts of cruelty that branded them monsters. She'd spent years getting into their heads, tasting their desires. Never until now had she truly comprehended what it was to crave something so powerfully that the pain of denial was enough to make her want to weep. Reason and logic were hindrances as flimsy and transparent as wet tissue.

And yet she clung to them while John and Dr. Jackson talked: about the Ori, about Atlantis, about so many things… None of it mattered, because nothing was as important as the need to feed.

Dimly she heard one of them tuning in to a radio broadcast."…authorities report that a terrorist organization has gained access to the bioweapons. The White House has refused to comment on leaked reports suggesting that the virus did not originate in Antarctica, as first reported, but in Iraq. Nevertheless…"

Someone touched her shoulder. "You okay?"

Tall and strong and reeking of life that was oh, so sweet-if she could just reach out her hand and take what she desperately needed from him-

"Don't touch me!" she hissed, jerking back. Without conscious thought she was running down the ramp, past Teyla, and out into the forest. The path was clear, clearer in her mind than it had ever been before. The smell of life surrounded her, but she had to get away, away from the Marines, people-humans, because she wasn't entirely human, was she?

Hold on. Don 't leave. We're coming for you, to help you.

The voice in her mind that had plagued her for hours was growing stronger now. As much as she wanted to trust it, she couldn't hold on, couldn't wait, had to escape.

"Rebecca! "

Another voice-her radio-telling her to stop, to wait. She couldn't obey John, either. If she tried, she wouldn't be able to resist. She'd turn on him and feed..

Stumbling toward the parking lot, her gaze fell on a Land Cruiser: the rangers' vehicle, dusted with snow, window open. The keys were still in the ignition.

"Rebecca, damn it, wait!"

Rebecca, wait!

She ignored the voices in her mind-they were in her mind, weren't they?

Hands grabbed her shoulders from behind. Heat and strength and desire surged up in her so forcefully that she whirled around and aimed a blow directly at John's head. He fell, hard, and didn't move.

Control must keep control!

She threw open the door of the Land Cruiser and tossed his motionless body across the seat. Climbing inside, she turned the key and wrenched the vehicle into gear. The lights weren't needed; her eyes, or maybe her mind, saw everything.

Don 't leave!

Gravel sprayed up behind her as the tires nearly lost their grip. New voices joined the cacophony. More people, more food, coming for her. She ripped off the radio and heaved it out of the window, speeding down the dirt road lightly frosted with snow.

They were all around her. Soldiers and Marines, just kids, scattered through the bush, their lives bright and powerful- all right there for her to feed on if she just pulled over. Just one life would be enough.

She stomped down on the accelerator.

Wait!

The snow was getting heavier, the wipers shoving flakes back and forth on the windshield. She heard shots fired, car horns and a shouted obscenity as she slammed through the flimsy roadblock, manned by more beacons of life shining through the cool darkness, more food.

She had to get away, to find a place to hide until the burning need passed. It had to pass.

An innate sense compelled her to head north on the main road, then turn left, up into the mountains. Past farms, past still more lives like bright candles burning in the night, all pulling her, imploring her to share in their light, to consume it.

No! She pushed the vehicle harder, climbing higher into the mountains. An orange sign sprang up; she swerved around it, past the barrier. God, she was burning up! What had been done to her? She couldn't see, couldn't-

SLAM!

The vehicle hit a stump or a rock, a minor obstacle that failed to prevent her plunge down a lethally steep embankment. Images of cold and fire surrounded her; her head thrashed back and forth but nothing could dislodge the voices imploring her to wait. She should have felt fear, yet the need dominated all. Through the crushed windshield, snow poured in along with branches and rubble, striking her. The view outside spun wildly until everything came to a sudden, crunching stop.

Even in that moment she found no peace. She could hear her breathing, hear her heart pumping life through her veins and out through the gashes across her face and arms. She could smell the sweet, succulent warmth beside her. She released the seatbelt-when had she remembered to buckle her seatbelt? — and fell in a crumpled heap against the inverted roof.

Food. Beside her was food. She simply had to reach across and-

No! Fight it, and we will be there!

She crawled out through the smashed remains of the windshield, ignoring the fresh slices across her hands and knees as she pushed glass aside.

"Re-ecca?"

People will need your help, Rebecca.

John. It was John trapped inside the mangled truck, not some delicacy for her to consume. John-his name was John and he was human but more… so very much more, because he carried the blood of Ninlil, who had created them all.

He was talking to her, asking her for something. She could see his lips move in the darkness, see the blood that trickled into his eyes and the unnatural angles of broken bones. It would be so easy to take all that he was, all that he had left, into herself. The desire flowed through her, so overpowering that she screamed in denial. She lurched away from the vehicle and plunged face first into the snow-covered embankment, trying to force the shock of cold into her system, trying to quench the searing demand that she feed.

Hold on. We're almost there.

But they weren't. She could feel them miles and miles away, too far to help. Why were her palms burning? What have you done to me?

Something, some… vague glimmer of different life pulled her face out of the snow. There-a cow.

Anger surged through her. The animal had fallen down the ravine and the damned farmer hadn't bothered to search for it. Black and white stood out in sharp relief against the dirty snow. Why could she see it in the stygian darkness? Fire… around them was fire, reflecting light from the snow-filled clouds. Lying partly on its side, one leg a shattered mess, the animal bellowed pitifully when it saw her. She could taste its fear and pain, feel it begging her for relief

Her gun. She could shoot it, put it out of its misery. Her hands, slippery with blood, fumbled the weapon. She opened her palms to find them torn, and a memory of what she was briefly infiltrated her need. If she fired her gun she'd have to fill out a report explaining why.

A bubble of hysterical laughter slipped free at the absur dity. She pulled herself from the rapidly melting snow and staggered across to the cow. Kneeling, she placed a hand on its belly to reassure it and-

A scream tore from her throat. The relief from pain was as devastating as pain itself. Her vision flooded with images connected by a million threads tangling in the forefront of her mind. What did you do to me? Why now?

Finally, there was clarity and peace.

The watery snow embraced her, cool and comfortable, the damp ice a welcome friend. Rebecca turned and opened her eyes. Soft flakes danced between ice-rimed splinters that fractured her vision of the sky. Branches, cold and lifeless, and yet she was warm. A face entered her field of vision. Kind eyes, full of love and life and the wisdom of a thousand lifetimes. And something more: joy.

Welcome.

The voice in her mind was that of a young man, speaking with a gentle Midwestern accent. Rebecca pushed herself onto her elbows and looked around. Three more people dressed far too lightly for the weather were seated close by, their faces radiating the same elation as the young man who'd woken her.

And at long last, just before she passed out, Rebecca understood.