Blood Ties

Chapter twenty-seven

"Try it again." Rodney adjusted the gain on the receiver. "I'm getting interference."

Lee crouched down on the floor of Jumper Two in order to move closer to the microphone on the side of the unit. "Senoy, Sansenoy, Semangelof," he recited, enunciating carefully.

"Better." Speed and frequency appeared to have a significant effect on the tonal properties of the ancient Hebrew incantation. For all the readings they'd taken, though, their grand world-saving scheme amounted to nothing more than mysticism. Rodney ran the harmonic analysis, wondering how the thickening smoke in the air would affect the equipment. It sure wasn't helping his sinuses. "Of course, by 'better' I mean that the recording is clearer, not that we're any closer to figuring out how a sonic wave is supposed to ward off genetically modified Wraith in human clothing."

"At least we have a precedent, if not any hard data," Lee pointed out. "It wasn't too long ago that Morgan le Fay's dragon was destroyed by the sound of her name."

"Oh, well, as long as we know how to stop a hologram of a mythological animal, we'll certainly be able to apply that to flesh and blood." Rodney jabbed the `enter' key on his laptop with slightly more force than might have been necessary.

"Be as sarcastic as you want. We never really did identify the nature of the dragon SG-1 tangled with. I'm not so sure you can tag it with the hologram label." The other scientist gazed off into the middle distance, a sign that he was about to either offer a probably useless idea or wander off on an equally useless tangent. "For a while now, I've been developing a theory about such events. Although we've been calling them holograms, they're not projections of light. Rather, I think they may actually be corporeal; temporary organi zations of molecules assembled in the same manner as Dr. Jackson used to create the Sangraal."

Or the bomb that had killed Carson, which was a tangent Rodney could have done without. "Hypothesize to your heart's content when you get back to your cushy lab," he said shortly, trying to rid his mind of the countless and disquieting possibilities such technology might give rise to. "Meanwhile, in the real world, we have some kind of supposed magic spell whose effect, assuming it even has an effect, is completely unknown. We're in the unenviable position of holding a key and having no idea what, if anything, it unlocks. Did your degree include any coursework in astrology or alchemy'? Because none of mine did."

While he was on the subject, his extensive education had failed to cover topics such as marksmanship, intergalactic diplomacy, and resistance to torture, too. Every so often Rodney was reminded that this wasn't at all the career trajectory he'd planned. He'd expected to have a safe, comfortable research job, like Lee's, except with more grants and awards. Instead, he was doing things most scientists couldn't imagine, working under unrelenting pressure to perform miracles… losing friends to inexcusably senseless acts. If the lunacy of it all occasionally got under his skin, he felt he was damn well entitled to his frustration.

Leaning into the microphone, Lee repeated the three names again, this time singing them instead of speaking. It took Rodney a moment to realize that he'd somehow managed to fit "Senoy, Sansenoy, and Semangelof' into the opening bars of the "Gilligan's Island' 'theme.

At Rodney's withering look, Lee's smile faded. "Not an appropriate time for levity'?"

"It rarely is." A cough prompted by the smoke ruined Rodney's intimidation effect. He glanced down at the frequency graph generated by that last inane attempt and noticed that a couple of the syllables had produced harmonic overtones. Interesting. Not much of a start, but interesting.

A signal from the radio interrupted him. "Jumper Two, this is One." Rodney glanced up. He'd let Lome handle the previous call, ordering the Marines back to the jumpers due to the advancing fires, but Jackson's tone suggested this call might be of more immediate importance. "Got an update from the home front. I'll put the radio next to the sat-phone and patch you in."

Soon General Landry's voice replaced the archeologist's. "Dr. Lam has reported some unsettling results from Agent Larance's blood tests. It appears our FBI colleague has a number of unique genes, not just the ATA gene. The deviations are so widespread that her DNA barely registered as human."

That was a roadblock Rodney hadn't anticipated at all. "Are you saying she's…" His brain started spinning possibilities. Did Larance know what she was? Had her involvement in this `case' been a fraud all along? "You may have to subdue her," he warned Jumper One. Suddenly he felt like he was watching a thriller in a movie theater, seeing the danger clearly and yet only able to yell a futile warning to the characters. "Is she listening right now?"

A strangled screech came over the radio, followed by a shout identifiable as Sheppard.

"Not exactly," Jackson said tersely. "Stand by."

Before Rodney could protest, more voices joined the frequency-Marines reporting their progress. Lorne spoke to the sergeant leading the squad that had accompanied them in Jumper Two, looking progressively tenser as the conversation continued.

His throat itching painfully, Rodney suggested, "Can we close the hatch for a while to keep the smoke out?"

The Major shook his head. "Our guys are about a quartermile out. By the time they get here, we may not be able to afford the extra seconds it'd take to lower the hatch."

Against his better judgment, Rodney edged toward the open end of the jumper and looked out at the reddened sky. A menacing glow was steadily overtaking a stand of trees in the distance.

More shouts from the radio punctured the air. Something about Larance taking Sheppard captive; Teyla, Ronon, and Jackson were fanning out to track them on foot while the two Marines who'd accompanied them guarded Jumper One. Rodney went forward into his jumper's cockpit and called up the HUD, hoping it would show him the path of the fires. It obliged-and what it displayed was terrifying.

He turned to Lome. "We're going to have to take off the instant those Marines are on board just to get airborne in time to escape this."

Lorne nodded grimly and studied the HUD while Rodney's concerns ran in multiple directions simultaneously. Why-and how-had Larance taken Sheppard? Could she trigger the virus in him? God, the virus would be the least of his problems if they were out in the open when the flames closed in. Without the protection of a jumper…

A pair of Marines came barreling into Jumper Two, narrowly avoiding the acoustic equipment Lee was hastily stowing. "Where are Edwards and Koslov?" Lome demanded.

"Got cut off, sir." The sergeant's voice was hoarse from sprinting through smoke. "Wind's catching sparks and starting smaller fires all over the place, even where there's snow. They had to detour south to get around. Give 'em five minutes. They'll make it, Major."

A reasoned estimate, or youthful military bravado? Rodney suspected he knew the answer.

To his credit, Lorne didn't hesitate. "Then we'll see 'em in five." He grabbed his radio. "Jumper Two calling all jumpers. Situation report."

"Jumper Three has Alpha team accounted for."

"Jumper Four, same for Bravo."

"Jumper Five, same for Charlie."

That was something, at least. Unfortunately, they already knew the news wasn't as good for Jumper One. Not waiting for a response, Lorne ordered, "All teams withdraw to the alternate landing site and await further instructions. We'll join you ASAP. Jumper One, suggest you continue your search from the air. Ground conditions are deteriorating."

"Would if we could," came the reply from Jackson, shouted over a series of cracks that must have been the result of falling tree limbs. "The fire jumped and blocked my path. I'm going to head upwind and try to outflank it. Snow's not making a damned bit of difference… spot fires breaking out all over."

"Same here," said Ronon, the background noise coming through his radio equally alarming. "Teyla?"

"I believe I am not far from the jumper. It is difficult to see." Teyla sounded barely out of breath. "Sergeant Barnett, are you and the corporal still at your earlier position?"

"Yes, ma'am. I think I see you coming," answered the Marine at Jumper One. "Swing to your left a ways-there you go. Major, unless the Colonel gets back here soon, we're gonna have to hunker down and ride this out in place. He's the only one who can fly us out."

Rodney dug his fingers into the arm of the seat, repressing the temptation to bang his head against something. They hadn't bothered to ensure that there were two gene carriers per crew, because they'd expected to be able to trade personnel between jumpers if backups were needed. No one had anticipated the ferocity of the fires turning each jumper into an island; no one had believed everything could go to hell so quickly. Eucalypt oil, he realized. The tinder-dry brush might as well have been doused in gasoline instead of a thin coating of snow. Idiotic shortsightedness… Or was something more at play? Spot fires breaking out everywhere didn't make sense, unless-

"I'm at the jumper," reported Teyla, her voice finally betraying a hint of tension. "There is not much time left before the blaze will overtake us."

"I'm almost there," Jackson promised.

Ronon cursed viciously. "The wind just shifted and caught the trees around me. I've got nowhere to go!"

"Sirs, Jumper One's throwing all sorts of warnings at us," said Barnett. "I think it knows the temperature's getting dangerous."

"Jackson, where are you?" Lome called.

"Still moving." Jackson's voice was starting to give out. "But the fire'll get there before me. Teyla, close the hatch."

"But-"

"Do it," Ronon yelled, "or none of us will get out of this!"

From his marginally safer place inside Jumper Two, Rodney shut his eyes and fought the urge to be sick. Jackson and Ronon had just signed their death warrants. And Sheppard's — if the Colonel was even alive. For all they knew, the virus could be activating in any one of them. Maybe that was the reason the other Marines, Edwards and Koslov, hadn't made it back yet.

Not again. Rodney would be damned if he'd bear witness by radio while more friends died. He launched out of his seat. "We can track them by their locator beacons. If we take off now-

"Not yet. We've got two men on their way here, and they'll be just as screwed as the others if we leave." Allowing no debate, Lome tapped his radio. "Edwards, Koslov, sit-rep!"

After a pause, a voice answered, coughing. "Sir… should be only a hundred yards out."

"You waiting for an invitation?" the Major thundered, sounding more like a drill instructor than Rodney had thought him capable of. "Haul ass!"

When he belatedly remembered Lee's presence, Rodney glanced over. Seeing the other scientist all but cowering in a comer of the rear compartment, wide-eyed and close to hyperventilating, almost mitigated some of Rodney's own anxiety. Almost.

"For a while, I considered trying to join an actual SG team," Lee said quietly. "Maybe I'll rethink that."

"You get used to the constant panic," Rodney told him.

Lee met his eyes, curious. "Do you really?"

The sense of utter helplessness was intolerable. This was one time where nothing he did could help a damn. "No."