Blood Ties

Chapter six

When the hotel's automated wakeup call had drawn her out of bed at six that morning, Elizabeth had anticipated a contentious day in front of the International Oversight Advisory. She hadn't prepared at all for holding a negotiation in a morgue, with one side represented by SGC personnel and the other by a forensic psychologist who gave all indications of being at the end of her rope.

In one aspect, at least, the detour wasn't totally unwelcome. Elizabeth hadn't had the chance to explain to John or Rodney the main reason she'd been called to Washington in the first place, and she had no plans to bring it up now. They didn't need the distraction of worrying about Atlantis's future on top of everything else.

Although she knew better than to take lightly any threat to the expedition, she'd been down this road with the IOA before. Whenever one of the Advisory's member governments changed or reshuffled its bureaucracy, a new representative joined the committee and was promptly horrified to learn of secret intergalactic wars being fought on multiple fronts. Elizabeth couldn't blame any of them; she remembered her initial reaction to being told about the Goa'uld, who now seemed like trivial pests compared to the other dangers they'd discovered.

Not for the first time, the IOA's incoming members had examined the high cost, in both dollars and lives, of maintaining the Atlantis expedition. On this occasion, they'd actually voted to shut the expedition down. The Ori — or more accurately, their followers-were the immediate problem and focusing on them was a better use of resources. After all, the Wraith couldn't reach Earth.

Primed to defend Atlantis yet again, Elizabeth had found an unlikely ally in Woolsey. The Payton video had, at first, added fuel to the committee's fire; a Wraith presence on Earth seemingly had to be a result of some action the expedition had taken. If nothing else, it demonstrated the risks of sustaining a link to the Pegasus Galaxy.

Then Elizabeth had played her ace, reminding the members of Carson Beckett's report on the retrovirus a full year earlier. She knew the field of international affairs, had learned her craft in many of the same places as these people, and she could see in their expressions that they knew they'd backed themselves into a comer. Some of them hadn't even read Carson's report the first time around. They read it this time, and they were forced to concede the truth, sealed by Lam's autopsy findings. The Wraith, such as they were, had been on Earth for a very, very long time. Like Jekyll's Hyde, the monster hid within. In this case, while the Atlantis expedition's exploration of Pegasus wasn't the cause of the problem, it might yet provide the solution.

If one existed.

Elizabeth refocused on the situation at hand. The county coroner, a soft-spoken man of about fifty, seemed accustomed to dealing with personnel from the handful of military bases within his jurisdiction. When a CDC `containment team' had shown up on his doorstep, he probably had recognized the subterfuge for what it was, but he'd gone along without comment. The FBI profiler, on the other hand, was proving more difficult.

"This can't possibly be a public health risk," Dr. Rebecca Larance insisted, one hand resting in a fist on her hip. "The etiology

"The rate and method of transmission are still largely unknown," countered Daniel without missing a beat.

Across the room, Rodney hovered behind Lam and Radek, making no effort to conceal his discomfort. Three corpses lay side by side on tables: two sheltered inside body bags, the third exposed and charred almost to the point of losing any definition as a body, let alone a human one. While Radek handed Lam some type of magnifying lens, Rodney caught Elizabeth's eye and wordlessly urged her over to an alcove, away from both groups.

Joining him there, she asked, "Has Dr. Lam found something?"

"Nothing she hasn't found already on Payton and Cabal." Even as he spoke, Rodney's gaze inched over to where Larance stood. Elizabeth resisted the temptation to regain his attention with a sharp elbow. True, the FBI agent was rather striking, but it wouldn't help their cause if Rodney were to make some socially dubious remark to her. "Listen, who decided on this division of labor'? Colonel Sheppard gets to play Fox Mulder with the profiler? Because it seems to me that I'd be more qualified, given that he has no investigative experience."

"And your own experience in that arena is so vast?" Elizabeth asked dryly.

"Research is investigation by another name." Rodney scanned the room with an incipient frown. "Where is he, anyway? Not only does he get the best role in this pointless farce, but he manages to avoid this dungeon."

The morgue was as open and modem as the rest of the sheriff's headquarters, but Elizabeth let the comment pass. "John's upstairs, taking care of the paperwork for the custody transfer so we can bring the bodies back to the Mountain."

"Which somehow requires the assistance of CDC 'specialists' who all appear to have the same stylish haircut and an impressive fitness regime. Elizabeth, what precisely is our plan here'?"

She kept a firm hold on her patience. "How much of the cover story we discussed in the car did you miss during your panic attack?"

Rodney started to object to her appraisal and then apparently thought better of it. "Assume a substantial amount," he answered tightly.

Might as well start at the beginning. "If the victims' families, or especially the media, saw a team of soldiers barge in here and lock down everything associated with these cases, we'd attract far more attention than we're prepared to handle. Our explanation is that a joint military/civilian expedition to Antarctica discovered a 30,000-year-old virus in an ice core sample, and containment was breached upon their return. This virus appears to cause a form of rapid, acute progeria, hence the accelerated aging found in the victims."

Eyebrows climbing, Rodney admitted, "That's a remarkably good cover story."

Elizabeth smiled. "Thank Radek. The majority of it was his idea."

"And here's why it's transparently flawed." Rodney changed tack without so much as a blink. Amazing, she thought, the way he was able to do that. "The first thing the FBI will do to check our facts will be to consult the histories they've assembled for each of these people-victimologies, I believe they're called-and discover that none of the victims have any connection whatsoever to Antarctica. Also, a point that I'm confident this Dr. Larance won't miss: how are we going to explain the symbol of the gate and Dart found at all the scenes?"

"Listen and learn." Elizabeth led him over to join the contentious discussion between Daniel and Larance. When he neared the FBI agent's line of sight, Rodney subtly improved his posture.

The ends of Larance's dark blond hair brushed against her shoulders as she continued to shake her head. "I can accept the possibility of a virus in the progeria spectrum causing this type of damage. But the deterioration is the only factor it would explain." Her tone businesslike, she ticked off the details on her fingers. "Ritualized evisceration, the precise arrangement of the bodies, the missing hearts, not to mention the fires, which were unquestionably lit to obscure the cause of death-and may have succeeded in doing so in any number of unknown cases…" Pinning Daniel with a gaze that invited him to answer at his own risk, she challenged, "Does your virus draw patterns on floors, use a lighter, and make internal organs disappear into thin air?"

Perhaps more than anyone else in the Stargate program besides Elizabeth, Daniel was experienced in dealing with forceful people. It was never easy to accept an accusation of dishonesty, veiled or not, even when dishonesty was part of the plan. Daniel, though, displayed no reaction except to offer his most truthful statement so far that afternoon. "We're not concerned with the virus per se."

Rodney's brow wrinkled. "We're not?" When he received matching glares from Daniel and Elizabeth, he rapidly amended, "No-well, we are, of course, but it's more complicated than that." Looking contrite, he waved a hand at Daniel. "Please, go on."

Elizabeth closed her eyes. Maybe her instructions to Rodney should have been `Listen and learn and, for the love of everything holy, don't talk.'

"We believe," Daniel continued, "that a cult devoted to the worship of Lilith stole the virus and has been using it as part of their rituals."

Some, but not all, of the suspicion cleared from Larance's face. Progress, maybe. Then her eyes shifted to something on the far side of the room, and Elizabeth turned to see John come through the doorway, his CDC Marines in tow.

This ought to be interesting.

John's pace slowed, and he and Larance sized each other up. Apparently Lam's en route briefing to him hadn't included the identity of the agent with whom he'd be working. Recognition appeared to dawn for both parties at approximately the same time, but neither betrayed much in the way of surprise. The profiler spoke first, cocking her head. "Major-Sheppard, right?"

"Lieutenant Colonel these days, believe it or not" John directed his `team' to load the bodies for transport and crossed the room toward her. "Good to see you again, Dr. Larance."

He offered his hand and a friendly, low wattage smile. A smart move, Elizabeth thought, one possibly based on experience; she suspected that this woman would not be amused by a charm offensive. Nor was she likely to be very impressed by his immaculate blues or silver wings, although Elizabeth had to admit that John Sheppard wore them well.

Larance did seem to soften ever so slightly as she shook his hand. "Light bird," she commented, giving no indication that she knew full well how improbable attaining that rank had been for him. "Congratulations"

"Oh, naturally they know each other," Rodney muttered, not quite inaudibly. "The secret society of the attractive"

Elizabeth strongly considered doing him bodily harm. When the SGC had looked into Larance's records and discovered that she and John had crossed paths before, they'd banked on that small amount of familiarity working to their advantage. So, of course, Rodney just had to blithely trample on whatever goodwill they'd just established.

Judging by John's expression, he planned to make the scientist pay for the quip as soon as Larance's back was turned. "Did you get tired of us pole patrol folks, or are you moonlighting'?" he asked her.

"Multitasking, not moonlighting." Larance faced Elizabeth and Daniel as she explained. "One of my duties is vetting personnel for winter postings at McMurdo. Not everyone is psychologically suited for an Antarctic tour, and the last thing anyone needs is a person with pathological tendencies stuck in an enclosed area with limited outlets for aggression. There's a very rigorous screening process. Colonel Sheppard passed my gauntlet some years ago." She studied the others, waiting.

Daniel answered the implied question. "There have been a handful of instances, on classified projects, where personnel have been vetted through different channels."

"In fact, I was stationed down there for months without being subjected to any-" Belatedly, Rodney seemed to realize he'd just hung a metaphorical target on himself.

The profiler contemplated him, looking unmoved. "Just as well. I'm not sure I would've signed off on sending you to Antarctica even on a penguin-watching pleasure cruise."

Out of the corner of her eye, Elizabeth saw Radek fail miserably in his attempt to mask his amusement, while Rodney's eyes grew huge. Before his indignant sputtering could coalesce into actual words, Larance held up a hand. "Don't bother critiquing my bedside manner. They don't pay me to have one. I'm a forensic psychologist, not a therapist. My job is to climb inside the heads of humanity's honest to God monsters, not to hold people's hands and tell them that Mommy and Daddy are the source of all their problems."

Abruptly, Rodney closed his mouth. Elizabeth noticed John concealing a faint smile and wondered what he'd thought of Larance when they'd first met, whether or not he'd liked or respected her. Sometimes it was hard to tell with him. After all, she wouldn't have predicted that he and Rodney would get along.

"This cult of Lilith you mentioned," Larance said, glancing over at Lam and the team as they secured the first body inside a coffin-like container. "You're not actually suggesting that one or more of its members was on an Antarctic mission, are you'? Cult members have distinct personality traits that even your `different channels' of screening would have flagged."

Daniel delicately sidestepped the question. "How familiar are you with biologically related cult behavior'?"

"If you mean the use of bioweapons by cult groups, very. Ever heard of the Rajneeshees?"

The name meant nothing to Elizabeth, nor did it seem to jog any memories for the others.

"They had issues with the court in Wasco County, Oregon, and tried to prevent residents from voting in the 1984 election by mass poisoning with Salmonella typhimurium. Over seven hundred people were sickened, none fatally. Provided some rich subject matter for my dissertation." Larance folded her arms in a thoughtful, rather than defensive, gesture. "Then there's Aleph-you may remember them as Aum Shinriko."

"Sarin gas on the Tokyo subway, right?" John recalled. "Sometime in the mid nineties?"

"Among other attacks. The group is less powerful in its current incarnation but still very much in existence. Before his arrest, the sect leader, a man named Asahara, had virtually unlimited funds and a self-proclaimed mandate to wipe out a significant percentage of the world's population."

Elizabeth had conditioned herself to accept, if not understand, horrors on a planetary scale, but it was still hard to imagine what could possess a person to attempt such unspeakable acts. Anubis had taken his shot at Earth, of course, and countless Pegasus civilizations had fallen prey to the insatiable Wraith-but she had never truly been able to comprehend the process by which human beings could become utterly convinced that their purpose was to destroy their own kind.

A psychologist had once assured her that that was largely because she wasn't a psychopathic mass murderer.

Still, she was beginning to get a glimpse of what made Rebecca Larance tick. The FBI agent's demeanor might be abrasive, but she at least had some insight into what drove such people, and she was willing to do whatever was needed to combat them. Elizabeth recognized and admired that kind of determination.

"After the subway attack," Larance was saying, "Congress broke down the FBI's door, wanting to know how Asahara had been able to assemble a worldwide network of operatives without drawing attention from Western law enforcement or intel agencies. My bosses at the Bureau had to explain that Aum Shinriko was a chartered religious organization, protected by civil rights legislation and constitutional limitations in both the U.S. and Japan. A frustratingly common roadblock to investigations of cult groups."

"A number of those rules changed after 9/11," Elizabeth pointed out.

"Which is why I'm willing to concede the possibility that you actually might have some evidence to support your virus theory." Her gaze moved over the SGC visitors, catching briefly on John, before she lifted an eyebrow at Rodney. From his abashed, slightly sullen look, he seemed to have realized she'd been baiting him earlier. Still, they evidently hadn't won her over.

"Sir'?"

The CDC containers had been loaded onto wheeled carriers, and the team stood beside them, waiting on an order. John glanced at Larance, questioning.

"If you're determined to take them and have the ME's permission, I don't really have the authority to stop you, do IT' she said archly.

"Maybe not, but you could raise hell with either the county officials or the local television news, and I'm hoping you won't." John, as usual, was trying to be a straight shooter, even under the circumstances. Elizabeth figured it was as good a tactic as any. "Look," he continued, "we're on the same side here. We just want to figure this thing out and stop it from happening again. There's no reason for us to work against each other."

It was a clearly sincere sentiment, and it appeared to have the desired effect, more so after he weathered Larance's probing stare without a flinch. After a moment, she replied, "Let me tag along to whichever base you're calling home these days, to find out more about this ice core virus theory ofyours, Colonel, and I might believe that."

"Done," said John, only darting a look at his companions in hindsight. Daniel nodded, and Elizabeth had to agree. They'd do the best they could to safeguard the Stargate program and the truth, but this woman had knowledge and experience they needed, and stonewalling her would get them nowhere.

"Then let's get going."

John gave a silent affirmative signal to the Marines and walked over to hold the door open for them to move the bodies out to their vehicle. If Larance noticed that they handled the containers with the precision of an honor guard, she didn't comment on it, picking up her coat from a nearby chair and following them out of the room. Elizabeth and the others trailed behind the procession as it headed for the building's outer doors.

A pair of coroner's assistants passed them in the corridor. As soon as they were out of earshot, Larance asked, point blank, "Are you really worried about contagion?"

With only a beat of hesitation, Daniel admitted, "Not terribly."

"Then why pack up the bodies?"

"There's every reason to exercise precautions against residual traces of the virus," said Lam, sticking doggedly to the cover story.

"So I'm supposed to tell anyone who asks that the Bureau is on the lookout for a cult responsible for several ritualistic killings through the use of a progeria-type virus. I assume the virus's point of origin is information not intended for public consumption?"

Almost before Daniel tendered the Antarctic cover story, Larance stopped walking and swiveled to face the group. "I want to be clear before we go any further. I don't entirely buy your explanation of what's going on here. Right now, I'm in `go along to get along' mode, because this case is too big for one person and I'm not stupid enough to refuse help. Just be aware that if you try to play me, I'll be on the phone very fast and this will get very ugly." She looked at John again. "I'm putting some trust in an analysis I made four years ago. I hope it was accurate then and is still valid now."

John said nothing, but his gaze was as steady as hers. Out of the profiler's field ofview, Elizabeth and Daniel exchanged a glance. Maybe the SGC's gamble had paid off after all.

A blast of winter air and flurry of snow chilled them when Lam opened the building doors. As the Marines began to carefully slide their cargo into the back of the waiting vehicle, Larance pulled on her coat and turned to Daniel. "Okay. You show me yours and I'll show you mine. Tell me what Adam's first wife has to do with all this."