Brimstone

Chapter Eight

“Mr. Woolsey?”

Woolsey glanced up from his desk to find Zelenka standing in the doorway, a tablet computer in one hand.

“Yes,” Woolsey said. “What is it?”

“It’s the gate, sir,” Zelenka replied. “We’ve been trying to open it to receive Colonel Sheppard’s SITREP as you requested. It won’t open. We’ve tried everything, and we’ve been unable to reopen it, despite the fact we know the proper address. We haven’t heard from the team since their departure, and now we’re completely cut off. We had one short message from Colonel Sheppard right after they passed through the gate, but since then, nothing.”

“If they attempt to report in, and that attempt fails, they should return to the gate, open it, and re-establish communications.”

“I know sir. It’s not like the Colonel to miss a report — but he’s already half an hour late.”

Woolsey sat and forced himself to count to ten as he thought. His first instinct was to try and force the gate open and send another team through to be certain nothing had gone wrong. It wasn’t the first time that Colonel Sheppard or the members of his team had failed to act in strict accordance with regulations, and he didn’t want to appear to have a knee-jerk reaction every time it happened. He also didn’t want to fail to act if they were in trouble, and the irony of the moment wasn’t lost on him.

His own philosophy was one of strict adherence to protocol. He’d come to Atlantis with a very straight-forward, no nonsense attitude toward command, but over time he’d learned that there could be more than one set of rules. Time and again, when strict adherence to regulations would have ended in disaster, death, or worse, his people had come through in startling and spectacular ways that he himself could never have conceived. It wasn’t easy, but he’d brought himself, and them, to a sort of compromise.

“We’ll give them a couple more hours before we panic,” he said. “But I want a full crew working on getting that gate opened again, and I want a second team on alert to be ready at a moment’s notice. Get Major Lorne to handle it.” He paused, then added, “And see if we can dig up anything else on Admah. I’m beginning to dislike this situation.”

He turned back to his work. Zelenka stood in the doorway a moment longer, as if he might say something further, such as reminding the Commander that he wasn’t an errand boy. Woolsey kept his gaze firmly fixed on the paperwork he was processing, and eventually Zelenka took the hint.

When the doorway was empty, he glanced up and stared thoughtfully into the blank space for a few moments, then returned to his reports.

Major Lorne gathered a second team in a ready room just off the main control area. They spent their time inventorying equipment cases, checking their weapons, and chatting quietly. No one showed any particular concern, but the tension in the air was thick. The longer they went without word from Colonel Sheppard, the thicker it grew.

Zelenka had his own team gathered around a group of computer consoles. They had several screens open at once. One scanned for any type of radio or communication signal from the gate, concentrating primarily on weeding out static from the last moments the gate had been open to see if something had been missed. The rest of the personnel were divided between those running a variety of searches on the exhaustive data in Atlantis’ databases, seeking any mention of Admah — good or bad — and a frantic team trying to open the gate back to the city. Very little had surfaced, and what they’d found was open in yet another window being translated.

“Here’s something,” said a young woman, Doctor Quint, tapping the screen.

Zelenka leaned closer. “What is it?”

“It’s another of the same sort of isolated reports we’ve been finding,” Quint replied. “Travelers visited Admah, and they never returned. The translation isn’t complete, but in this report it says that there was a malfunction with the gate itself. They were unable to send anyone through to search. It’s just like now, isn’t it? They continued to try for some time, but they never managed to reopen the gate to Admah. Their people were never heard from again.”

“I think we just discovered the meaning of that warning we ignored,” Zelenka said, feeling his heart sink. “Keep searching. There has to be someone who took the time to study this. I can’t believe they lost an entire group of their own people and all it received was a simple warning label.”

Quint went back to her computer screen and Zelenka turned toward the gate. He thought about Rodney, on the other side of that portal. The two men were at each other’s throats constantly, Rodney going on about how much smarter he was than the rest of the universe, and Zelenka trying to ignore him. He never argued the exact point, because it was very likely true. Arrogant, socially inept, and rude, Rodney was possibly the most brilliant man Zelenka had ever encountered. Still, no amount of intelligence granted the right to lord it over others, and there was a certain lack of common sense that accompanied Rodney’s brilliance — evidenced in actions like the one that had erased the warning about the Admah Gate — that grated on Zelenka’s nerves.

The missions rarely fell to Zelenka. Rodney had more experience, but that came in many cases from greater courage. Zelenka had signed on as a scientist, not an adventurer. He preferred to remain in the lab and provide support. Rodney plowed into things at full speed and, more often than not, his presence was crucial to a mission’s success. Zelenka felt a certain amount of personal guilt connected with the role he’d chosen, and with his reluctance to take the plunge into adventure. At times like this, he felt that guilt most strongly.

“Where are you Rodney?”

The gate, and the radios, held their silence.