Dead end

Chapter Seventeen

McKay had woken up with a sore head. He always woke up with a sore head, but this morning it was particularly bad. He’d slept badly, plagued by the sound of tremors under the settlement and troubled by dreams of Ancient crystal circuitry. After a whole, long day working on the Jumper schematics, he hadn’t been able to switch off. With a weary sigh, he realized he’d got a whole lot more work ahead of him. There wasn’t even anyone to yell at. For a minute, he found himself missing Zelenka.

He shook his head. What was getting into him? He dressed hurriedly, tried to make himself look not entirely uncivilized, and headed straight for one of the refectories. There was no one about outside his chamber. It was no different as he neared the eating areas. The settlement was entirely empty and silent.

McKay frowned. An absence of food right now, after all the work he’d done, was a bitter blow. It wasn’t that he actually looked forward to another bowl of gently congealed buffalo fat, but it was food of a kind, and his stomach was growling with all the bad-tempered expectation of a feral grizzly.

He headed back into the main network of corridors. Had the Banshees come back and stripped the whole place of life? That would really limit the culinary possibilities. Picking up his pace, he headed for the assembly rooms. Reassuringly, as he neared them, the low buzz of voices drifted up the corridor. Many voices. It sounded like the entire population had gathered there. Either they’d got there early, or he’d overslept. Badly.

The central hall was full of people. McKay shuffled over to a quiet spot near the back of the hall and made himself as comfortable as possible against the uneven rock wall. A debate was going on, and it sounded pretty impassioned.

The reason for the disturbance quickly became apparent. Sheppard was back. He was standing before Aralen and the council as he had done before. The old man looked torn between annoyance and profound relief. The reason for the latter was obvious; his daughter stood next to Sheppard, relaxed and unharmed.

McKay shook his head. He had to hand it to John, when there was a pretty girl to be rescued he had a Kirk-like knack for pulling it off. No Teyla or Ronon, though. McKay almost blurted out a demand to know where they were, but managed to keep a lid on his burning curiosity. Sheppard looked like he’d come back to deliver a sitrep, and the crowd were rapt with attention. Perhaps now they’d start getting some answers to all their questions.

Aralen stood up, face clearly marked by his conflicting emotions.

“Colonel Sheppard,” he said, voice shaking, “no one could be more grateful than I. You’ve brought my daughter back from the clutches of the Banshees. My reason for living has been restored to me.” He looked at Miruva and there was real fear in his eyes. “But it is for this very reason that I don’t understand why you’re advocating this plan. Now that we know how to retrieve our people from the clutches of these monsters, why would we willingly go back to their imprisonment?”

Sheppard sighed. “Look, I dunno what more I can tell you,” he said. “Believe me, I’ve seen prisons, and this ain’t it. It’s a paradise, Aralen.”

Aralen shook his head. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “All our records tell us that our place is here. The Ancestors will provide — they have promised.”

“The Ancestors have provided!” cried Sheppard, his frustration getting the better of him. “What are you gonna do? This place is dying. You know it’s happening, and you know you’re almost outta time.”

Aralen glared at Sheppard. A lifetime of faith in the ways of the Ancestors was being shaken. It was painful to watch.

“Colonel Sheppard speaks the truth, Father,” said Miruva. “I’ve seen this place. We could want for nothing there. Those who have been taken by the Banshees live in peace. There is food, water, and warmth. In time, we will come to understand the Ancestors’ plan. We won’t be there forever. Once we have mastered their powerful machines, we can break free and become like them ourselves.”

Aralen’s face sharpened into anger. “That is heresy!” he hissed. “We could never become like the Ancestors. They guide, and we follow. Who knows what plans of theirs we have ruined by blundering into their secret realm? And you haven’t explained one thing; if the Ancestors truly intended us to make our way to this Sanctuary, why did they hide it so well? And why do their servants, the Banshees, attack us? They are creatures of terror!”

Sheppard looked a little uncomfortable. “Hey, we don’t know everything,” he said. “There’s been a problem somewhere, that’s for sure. But you gotta trust me on this. I’ve been there.”

Aralen shook his head. “If the Ancestors had created this Sanctuary for us,” he said, “it would be perfect. If it was their creation, it would not be inhabited by Banshees. It would not lack power or—”

“Of course!” cried McKay, standing up.

All eyes turned to him, and he realized he’d spoken when he had meant to think. He coughed awkwardly and looked apologetically at Sheppard. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said. “But what you’re saying makes a lot of sense. The Ancients wouldn’t have left an experiment of theirs without making some provision for the future. They were clever like that. And the Banshees — they must be some kind of projected avatar of their creators. If there was something wrong with the holographic projection system — and it’s very hard to keep all the bugs out over 10,000 years — they would appear like ghosts.”

Miruva turned to him and gave an amused smile. “Dr McKay,” she said. “I wish we’d had you in Sanctuary with us. And you’re right: the Banshees called themselves Avatars.”

“Let me guess,” continued McKay, enjoying Miruva’s approval. “They have really catchy names. Like GH7X, or something. Right?”

“Something like that,” she said.

McKay turned to Aralen. “Look, I don’t want to butt-in,” he said. “I’m generally happier sorting out the tech than getting involved in politics. But Sheppard’s right, this whole planet is screwed. You’d have to be insane not to get into this ‘Sanctuary’ — demonstrably suicidal, in fact. Power problems can be sorted. We have them all the time on Atl — back home. And projecting AI avatars across large distances can be a big energy drain. Just because the Banshees flicker on and off doesn’t mean the whole system’s shot.”

Aralen looked at the scientist with skepticism. “So why do they cause such fear?” he said.

Miruva and Sheppard looked at McKay. Clearly, neither of them had any idea either.

“Well, er,” he started, hoping his complete lack of actual knowledge about Banshees wasn’t entirely obvious, “that’s probably down to the psychic techniques the Ancients use. In ways we don’t understand, they can tap directly into our minds.” It was entirely conjecture, but he hoped the Forgotten wouldn’t know that. “That’s how we’re able to use their technology. They create a neural link — a way to respond to the thoughts and emotions of the user. In this case, it’s likely that the Banshees’ neural manipulation has been distorted by the power drain. They appear as terrifying ghouls, when actually they’re just trying to do their job. If what Colonel Sheppard says is true, then I don’t think you have anything to worry about from them. In fact, you should probably stop calling them ‘banshees’. The origin of the term in fact comes from…”

Aralen’s scowl stopped him in his tracks. The etymological explanation could probably wait.

“What you say sounds convincing, Dr McKay,” he said. “If I were a less careful man, I would happily do what you suggest. But I have kept our people safe against all threats for longer than you have been alive. If I’d given-in to every theory and idea that had come my way, we would have been lost long ago. This thing needs study. We cannot risk—”

“There’s no time!” cried Sheppard. He took a deep breath. “With respect, Aralen, you’re not gonna survive another storm here.”

Aralen’s face went red with anger and he stood up. “How dare you speak to me that way,” he said, icily. “You are our guests, and now you lecture us like children.”

Sheppard opened his mouth to reply, but Miruva interjected.

“Enough,” she said. She turned to Aralen. “I hadn’t wanted to do this, Father. But if it’s proof you need, it’s proof you’ll get.”

Aralen stared at her, startled. The young woman threw him a defiant look, and then gazed up to the symbol carved on the roof of the chamber. She closed her eyes and extended her hand towards it. Immediately, the symbol glowed and a beam of energy passed between them. The familiar swishing sound filled the hall and a wave of panic washed over the crowd.

“Stay where you are!” shouted Sheppard. “You’ve nothing to fear.”

Despite himself, McKay was impressed by Miruva’s mastery of the technology — she must have been a quick study.

The figure that materialized before her was clearly an AI avatar, albeit slightly rusty around the edges. For some reason, McKay felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of terror. He shrank back, and it was all he could do not to run. “Ignore your feelings,” Miruva urged the crowd. “I can control it. The Banshees are our servants, they cannot hurt you.”

The apparition hovered motionless before Miruva. The people in the chamber gaped at it in horror, but none of them moved. Moment by moment the air of menace emanating from the Avatar dissipated until McKay found he could breathe again and could observe the device quite dispassionately. Clearly, the emotional response it generated was linked to the emotions of the observer. Clever, really.

“Announce yourself,” Miruva commanded.

“I am TF-34,” replied the Banshee in a scratchy voice. “My function is to provide teleported transportation to Sanctuary. This is the great work. Minimal power readings. I cannot remain instantiated. Shutting-down link.”

The vision guttered and faded out.

“They have been charged with bringing us to the Sanctuary created for us by the Ancestors,” said Miruva. “Their failing power supply has necessitated the transportation without explanation. But now we can access the caves directly, and you’ve seen the way I can control them. Surely you will relent, Father?”

Aralen gazed at her in wonder. “You can control them…”

“Yeah, it’s a gift,” Sheppard said. “All the best people have it.”

Aralen looked up at the symbol, and then back over the gathered crowd in the chamber. An unbroken hush had descended over the hall as the Forgotten awaited his verdict. McKay had an urge to say something, but bit his tongue.

The wait seemed interminable, but finally Aralen took a deep breath. “If you can summon the Banshees at will, how can I fail to take note of what you say? Everything I have clung on to has been turned to ashes.” He looked at Miruva, and his eyes shone with emotion. “My daughter, you have returned to us when we thought you lost. It is time for you to lead our people and fulfill the will of the Ancestors. Lead us to our Sanctuary.”

An expression of profound relief passed between Miruva and Sheppard as the crowd dissolved into excited chatter. The decision had been made, and it was the right one.

McKay elbowed his way through the press of people towards Sheppard. “Glad to have you back,” he called over the hubbub. “But what about Teyla? Ronon? Did you find them?”

“Yeah, my hunch paid out,” replied Sheppard. “They’re in Sanctuary right now. They’ve had a rough ride — I figured they needed the rest.”

“Thank God. When you came back without them, I started to imagine the worst. Not that I’m getting into irrational fears, or anything. But, well, it’s been a bit lonely out on the ice.”

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “I’ll remember you said that,” he said. “Where are we with the Jumper?”

McKay looked troubled. “I can get us airborne,” he said. “Not for long, and probably only for a single flight. But the gate is a dead as stone. And that’s a problem.”

Sheppard smiled, and produced a large tubular item from his furs. “Oh, really?”

McKay let his mouth drop open. It shut again, then fell back.

“My God!” he cried. “A ZPM! Where the hell… Of course. Sanctuary.”

“There was more than one and Miruva says they can spare it — but I don’t think it has much juice left. You can use it, right?”

“Yes. I can. You’ve just brought me our ticket home, Colonel.”

“Glad to be of service,” said Sheppard. “As soon as we’ve got these people to safety there we can — ”

“Wait.” Rodney was appalled. “We’re not leaving now? You do know there’s a storm of utterly monumental proportions coming our way? In fact, the storm of utterly monumental proportions.”

“Yeah, and that’s why we’ve got to get these people underground before we lose the chance.”

McKay looked exasperated. “Is that our job?” he asked. “Did we come here to escort a bunch of primitives into the ground? No. We thought there’d be tech here we could use. There isn’t, and we’re in a lot of trouble. Weir would say the same thing, John, and you know it. We’ve got to get out. Pronto. Let them sort out their own mess.”

“Hey,” Sheppard growled. “Even by your standards, Rodney, that’s a pretty low shot. Maybe we shouldn’t have come here, but we did, and now we gotta help out. We’ve got one shot. We’re gonna get these folks safely underground, and then we’ll power-up the Jumper. That’s it. No debate.”

McKay glared at him for a moment. He didn’t like it, but he’d seen Sheppard in these moods before. They didn’t have the time to fight it out, and he didn’t have the strength. “How long do you need?”

“Same as before. You’ll hardly miss us.”

“A matter of hours?” said Rodney. “A lot can happen in that time. You’ve seen the gate. You know what the ice is doing round here. My God, this is crazy.”

Sheppard drew the proximity meter from his furs and handed it to Rodney.

“Take this,” he said. “It’s got the coordinates of Sanctuary in it. If you can’t get the Jumper started, or something happens to the gate, you’ll know where we’ve headed.”

McKay took the device and looked at it miserably. “That doesn’t make me feel a lot better,” he said. “When that storm hits, all bets are off.”

“You got it,” said Sheppard. “And you know the drill. If we’re not back when you need to get out, don’t wait. That Jumper’s going back to Atlantis, whether we’re on it or not.”

Even after so long on Khost, the cold was astonishing. It seeped into every pore, probed under every flap of fur and leather. Once in the bones, it stayed there.

Sheppard shuddered, pulled his furs more tightly around him, and looked over his shoulder. The entire population of the settlement stretched out behind him, huddling under glowering skies. Once Aralen had given the order, the Forgotten had acted quickly. Many of them had been waiting all their lives for this day. None had been left behind. Years of living in such an unpredictable environment had made them quick to respect the destructive power of the storms, and they followed Aralen’s orders without question.

Sheppard pulled his arms tight around his chest and checked to see if there were any stragglers. The column of people stretched back a long way. He was reminded of the aftermath of combat he’d seen before in the Gulf: lines of refugees leaving their homes, fleeing the destruction of their lives. The situation was not so different. The planet itself was at war with them. What they were doing was the only possible solution.

A gust of wind snagged against his hood and Sheppard shook himself out of his thoughts. He set off again and it took him a few moments to realize that Miruva was walking alongside.

“You OK?” he asked, his voice muffled against the leather facemask.

“They are all here,” she replied. “All that is left of us. You have done a great thing for our people. If you had not arrived when you did…”

“Oh, you’d have found a way outta there in the end,” he said, but not with conviction. The truth was that things were far too tight for comfort. The storm was on their shoulder already. He wondered if it would have been better to have waited it out. But then, according to McKay, there wouldn’t be another chance. This was it. They had to leave before surface travel became impossible.

A sudden gust buffeted him, and Sheppard staggered forward. He almost lost his footing. “I’m getting the hint,” he said. “This place really doesn’t like us,”

Black clouds crouched above them and, in the far distance, flickers of lightning scored the horizon. The wind was growing stronger and the incessant moan of the highlands was being replaced by a higher-pitched whine.

Miruva scanned the sky with practiced eyes. “It’s coming up quickly,” she said. “I’ve not seen one come so fast. I thought we had time to get everyone in before it hit. But these winds…”

She tailed off, looking at the piled clouds with concern.

“We’ll make it,” said Sheppard. “You people are pretty tough.”

“Maybe,” she said. “But we need to pick up the pace. A lot.”

Sheppard looked along the column of trudging figures and winced. Some were children, many were old.

“I hear you,” he said. “But some of those guys are struggling. I’ll go back and help out.”

Miruva nodded. “Take care,” she said, and struggled onwards.

Ahead of them, the wind screamed. Behind, the darkness deepened, and thunder growled in the distance. The end would not be long in coming.

McKay wrapped his arms around his chest and stamped hard. The Jumper’s life support was now within operational limits, but it was still damned cold. He plugged the proximity meter into the console in the cockpit. The Ancient computer picked up Sheppard’s encoded instructions and the coordinates of Sanctuary flashed up on the screen. A stream of figures, most of them incomprehensible, ran down the HUD.

“Well, that’s a lot of use to me,” he muttered, and turned his attention to the long-range scanners.

Nothing had changed. In every direction, the weather was closing in. It was the same on every monitor. The few patches of open sky were disappearing, almost as he watched. It had a strange attraction, a macabre beauty. But it didn’t improve his mood. It wasn’t much fun watching a planet die.

He shivered, and flicked the display to the rear, back toward the Stargate. Getting the ailing ZPM hooked up had been one the worst experiences of his life. But it was ready. The gate would open, if only for a millisecond. He didn’t expect much more than that, but once the wormhole had formed, the Zelenka module should do the rest. In theory.

“John?” he said into the radio, hoping he’d still get a signal. There was nothing but static from the other end. Just as he’d expected. These weren’t ordinary storms.

The visual feed was almost as bad. Snow was everywhere and the light was failing fast. It was still early, but the weak light of the sun was already being blotted by the clouds.

“At least it’s still intact,” said McKay, before realizing he was talking to himself again. “Dammit. This isn’t healthy. They’ve got to stop leaving me on my own like this.”

The image rocked as the Jumper was buffeted by a heavy gust. McKay studied the screen intently. Had the Stargate moved? Surely not. It couldn’t have. That would be just unfair.

It moved. Gently, almost imperceptibly, it shifted down into the ice.

“No!” growled McKay, leaping out of his seat. “Not again. It was looking so much better.”

He fumbled for the rear door release mechanism, knowing that opening the Jumper up now would hurt. But the gate was their only route out and if it was going down, he needed to know about it.

The rear door swung upwards, and the wind tore into the cabin. Gritting his teeth, McKay staggered into the rear bay and out into the howling gale. The short journey to the Stargate was agonizing. Every step was like dipping his feet into liquid nitrogen. The weather was worse than it had ever been. The horizon was black on three sides, and the light from up ahead was running out fast. He swore under his breath.

“If we’ve missed our window to get off this God-forsaken rock,” he growled, “then I’ll kill him. Sanctuary or not.”

Sheppard grimaced. Behind him, the long snake of Forgotten refugees — men, women and children — toiled in the snow.

From the lowlands of the settlement area, they had passed quickly up on to the high plateau where the White Buffalo roamed. The wind continued to pick up. It became difficult to walk against it, and Sheppard found himself leaning hard into the gale. The powdery snow was churned-up from the surface in writhing curls and flew through the air in thick, cold gouts. It felt like night was falling, even though dusk was hours away.

Infants had to be carried. A group of young hunters formed a cordon around the older members of the community, trying to shield them from the full force of the growing wind. Many had to be helped along. Even after a lifetime of living in the deep freeze, some of the Forgotten looked perilously cold. Sheppard worked his way back down the column, looking for any individuals in trouble. Most were coping better than him, but for some the trek looked like a nightmare. One man was almost bent double against the searing wind. Sheppard went up to him, and put an arm under his.

“How’re you doing?” he said, as cheerily as he could.

The old man looked up sourly. With a grim inevitability, Sheppard recognized Aralen.

“Not as well as I’d like,” he said, his voice choked by the snow. His facemask had slipped slightly, revealing some of his ice-blasted face. He looked in pretty bad shape.

Sheppard propped him up as best he could, anxious that the old man should keep moving. Conditions would only get worse.

“You still think this is a mistake?” said Sheppard, raising his voice against the growing volume of the wind.

“What does it matter what I think?” he said, his voice sour. “Everything I thought was right has been turned on its head. Everything I counseled has been undermined. Even my own daughter has turned against me. There’d be no role for me in Sanctuary, even if we could get there.”

He looked up at Sheppard, and his expression was savage. “But we can’t get there, can we? We’re going to die out here. Is this what you came to do? To destroy us all?”

Sheppard was taken aback by the old man’s ferocity. He began to speak, but the wind snatched his words away. Looking into Aralen’s eyes, he began to doubt his decision. Rodney had given him the same look. And Ronon. He should have left. He should have allowed the Forgotten to make their own way to Sanctuary, on their own terms.

Above, the last patches of open sky faded. The maelstrom had closed. With it went his hopes. Without speaking further to Aralen, Sheppard slogged his way further up the line. He’d made a call, and right now it looked pretty bad. Unless they reached Sanctuary soon, they would pay for it with their lives.

Teyla awoke. Her head throbbed and she could feel pain all down her side. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. But then the memories came rushing back. She was in Sanctuary. The rock fall, Sheppard, Ronon. The sequence of events was confused and she felt a surge of anxiety. Where were the others?

Teyla raised her head, ignoring the pain. She was lying in her hut, down in the fertile plain. All around was tranquil and quiet. The light from outside was warm and soft. Inside the darkness of the small chamber, a single figure sat, waiting for her to recover.

“Miruva?” said Teyla.

“No,” came a man’s voice. “She has gone out to the surface to bring the others back. More of your friends are here. They are restoring the tunnel to the outside.”

The voice was familiar. Teyla felt a sudden tremor of alarm. “Geran?” she said. “Why are you here? My friends…”

“The one you call Ronon is securing the breach. The others have left for the settlement.” Geran’s voice was subdued. The certainty he’d displayed in the past had disappeared.

Teyla pushed herself upright. She had no idea how much time had passed, but she’d seen the holographic weather projection in the control room. If they weren’t off the planet soon, then they might never escape. “How long have I been asleep?”

Geran shrugged. “Hours. You were taken here when Miruva left.”

“Then I ask you again,” she said, her voice hard. “Why are you here?”

Geran had the decency to look ashamed. “To make amends,” he said. “I was wrong. Even I cannot believe the stories about the Underworld now. I wanted to come and say that to you as soon as I could. I am sorry.”

Teyla didn’t find the words of much comfort. “You should be sorry, Geran,” she said. “Your actions delayed me. I do not yet know what that has cost.” She started to get up. Her head throbbed and her vision was cloudy, but she could keep her feet.

“You must rest! Ronon asked me make sure you were cared for.”

“Ironic, that he chose you,” she said. “My friends will need me. You have no idea what is happening.”

“There is no hurry,” protested Geran.

“Maybe not for you.” Teyla pushed past him, still woozy, out of the hut and into the artificial light of Sanctuary. “You can muse on your mistakes later,” she said. “I am going to find Ronon. Much as I might envy your life in this place, I do not wish to share it.”

Sheppard shielded his eyes against the worst of the driving snowfall. In the distance, far down the long column of trudging people, he could half hear the cries of children. It was hard to make out anything beyond a few dozen meters. His fingers were numb, and his eyebrows were already crusted with ice.

One of the Forgotten loomed towards him out of the swirling haze. It was Miruva.

“This is pretty bad!” yelled Sheppard, his words snatched away by the tearing wind. “We should be there by now.”

Miruva shook her head. Covered with furs as she was, the movement was slightly comical.

“We must be close!” she shouted back. “Some of the old folk are nearly frozen. We must find a way to pick up the pace.”

Sheppard winced. His legs already felt as heavy and unresponsive as iron. The trek to the settlement and back had taken it out of him. The way was short, but the environment was murderous. What was worse, he knew that he had a third journey ahead once the Forgotten were safely stowed in Sanctuary. He felt like he had been criss-crossing the surface of Khost for days.

“OK!” he shouted, and began to move down the column, exhorting a final push from the struggling lines of people.

Miruva passed in the other direction, towards the vanguard, making sure that none got separated in the white-out and that the column retained as much cohesion as possible.

The wind remained fierce. The snow piled up around them in thick swathes, and it soon became impossible to have any idea about footing. Many of the Forgotten stumbled. Sheppard and the other able-bodied members of the exodus were soon employed full-time in keeping the stragglers on their feet, keeping them moving, preventing the seductive collapse into the inviting banks of powder snow. Despite their long exposure to Khost’s harsh environment, some of the older folk were beginning to show the first signs of hypothermia, and Sheppard had become very worried about the smallest of the children. When not being carried by their exhausted parents, some of them had to wade at nearly waist-height through the snow to make any progress at all.

Then, suddenly, the breach became visible. Looming out of the driving snowfall, dark shapes became gradually apparent. A perimeter had been constructed around the opening. Some of it had collapsed in the howling wind, but enough remained to prevent them blundering blindly down into the workings.

“Bingo!” shouted Sheppard, trying to keep everyone’s spirits up. “Keep going! The worst is over.”

As if angered by their imminent escape, the storm threw one last desperate flurry at them. Sheppard felt the blast barrel into him as he turned to lift a child from the snow, and he stumbled badly. The heavy furs hindered him, and he sprawled face-down on the ground. The heavy snow cushioned his fall, but the wind was momentarily knocked from him. He staggered back to his feet, vision swimming. There were others staggering in the gale. They had reached the Sanctuary only just in time.

As they began to descend into the breach, fur-wrapped figures from below emerged to help them down the shaky ladders and into safety. Sheppard found himself yearning for the warmth of the tunnels, and would have given almost anything to get out of the frigid wind, but there were those weaker than him who still needed help. As he staggered over to a huddled group of older people, shuffling along painfully in the howling maelstrom, several tall figures surrounded him.

“How’s it going, Colonel?” came a cheerful voice. It was Orand.

Sheppard’s smile was more of a grimace. “I’ve had better days.”

McKay pushed against the Stargate; it was a futile gesture. There was nothing he could do to right it again. It had sunk over a meter into the cracked ice, and leaned at a sharp angle. The ZPM was still connected, but only just. Rodney stood back, squinting up at the curve of the ring. Could they get the Jumper through it? Maybe. But it’d be close. Very close.

But where were Sheppard and the others? If John had been right about how close this Sanctuary was, then he should have been back by now.

McKay had a sudden bad feeling. He should be at the Jumper controls. If they’d sent a message, he’d have missed it.

Breaking into a halting run, he began to hurry back to the Jumper. He was making poor decisions. He was tired, cold, and worried. The best thing he could do now was stay in the Jumper and wait. The Stargate would have to look after itself.

As he went, he heard a familiar cracking noise behind him. He speeded up, working his legs as fast as they’d go, plunging through the snow. Ending up in a crevasse would make a bad situation even worse.

The cracking stopped and McKay risked a glance over his shoulder. The gate was still there, but it looked like the top of the circle was swaying in the wind. Fresh lines of broken ice radiated from the buried base.

“C’mon, John!” McKay hissed to himself. “Get back here.”

“Did you secure the breach?” asked Sheppard, brushing the snow from his furs. He limped down the tunnel beside Orand.

“As well as we could,” Orand replied. “We’ll get these folk down as soon as we can. Some of them are in a bad way. Talking of which, you’d better get down below too. What have you been doing, swimming in snow?”

Sheppard let slip a rueful smile. “Yeah, kinda.”

Above them, the column filed down into the opening in an orderly fashion, herded by Orand’s team. As he watched them, Sheppard felt an overwhelming relief. Against all the odds, they had done it. The Forgotten would be safe. Whatever else happened to them on this mission, at least they’d done that; they’d saved a whole people.

Seeing that the hunters had everything in hand, he turned with some relief to the descent into Sanctuary. The steep way had been made easier with ladders and handrails and even the frailest of the Forgotten ought to be able to make the journey with help. Taking his place in the line, Sheppard joined the mass of bodies waiting to get into the warmth of the lower levels. As he went further down into the sheltering rock, the wind above gave a last, defiant howl, then guttered out.

Teyla limped across the Hall of Arrivals. It was not as dark as it had been, for the Forgotten had been busy placing braziers along the route up from the valley and into the control chambers. In time, the whole place would be illuminated. Though it would be a marvelous sight when completed, she heartily hoped she would not be there to witness it.

As she went, she saw reunited Forgotten celebrating. Some had already found there way down to the valley below, others lingered in the tunnels, helping newcomers down from the ice storm above. Not everyone celebrated. Some of the Forgotten in Sanctuary had discovered their loved ones had died on the surface, perhaps years ago. For every happy reunion, there were also isolated figures who lingered sadly in the shadows. Teyla’s heart went out to them; to suffer grief when all around were rejoicing was a hard burden to bear. And there was much adjusting to be done, on both sides. Many of the Forgotten in Sanctuary had honestly believed they were condemned to a twilight existence in the Underworld. To discover that they had been safely on Khost all the time, and that the route back to the surface had been opened again, required a profound shift in their beliefs. It would take time to become reconciled to the changes. Geran was proof of that; he had not come with her. He was one of those who needed time to adjust.

Teyla approached the control chambers where she and Miruva had discovered the Avatar and saw people coming and going without fear. It was quite a change. She was watching the celebrating Forgotten so intently that she hardly noticed the approach of the others. But then they were at her side, Sheppard and Ronon, looking as ragged around the edges as she felt herself.

“Hey, what are you doin’ up here?” said Sheppard, failing to disguise his concern. “We were coming to find you, and there were doctor’s orders.”

Teyla smiled. John’s anxiety was touching, but after several hours sleep in the warmth of the valley she thought she was probably in better shape than they were. Both men looked exhausted.

“I am much better,” she said, ignoring her persistent headache. “This place is good for healing. The Forgotten will find it so as well.”

“Well I’m glad to hear it. Right now, I need to take five.”

Sheppard slumped down on the floor against the wall, Teyla and Ronon either side of him. Around them, the Forgotten continued to come and go, all but oblivious to them. Cries of delight echoed down the corridors as long-sundered friends were reunited.

“Tell me what has happened,” said Teyla.

“It’s a real heartwarming story,” said Sheppard. “We’ve got the perfect storm up there, but these guys are safe.”

Ronon grunted. “Not looking forward to going back out there.”

“You and me both, but we don’t have a whole heap of options.” Sheppard closed his eyes, head back against the wall. He looked exhausted. “Besides, Rodney’s on his own and you know how much he enjoys that.”

Teyla’s brow furrowed with concern. Amid all the excitement at getting the Forgotten into Sanctuary, she had forgotten about Dr McKay. “He is not with you? The surface is no place to be on his own. Someone should have stayed with him.”

“Hey, he’ll be fine. The Jumper’s back up to full power. Anyhow, someone had to keep an eye on the Stargate. Let’s just say the ice beneath it isn’t entirely… reliable.”

“Sounds bad,” said Ronon.

“It is.”

“And we could’ve headed back hours ago…”

“Trust me, I heard it all from McKay.” Sheppard sighed. “Sometimes it sucks being the good guys.”

“You said it.”

“What is done is done,” Teyla said sharply. “Is the storm still blowing? Can we afford to wait it out?”

Sheppard shook his head. “Not unless you want to wait about nine thousand years.”

Before she could answer, Miruva and Orand approached, walking hand in hand. Beside them, Aralen hobbled, too proud to use a stick despite the arduous journey. His long-mourned wife supported him, and they leaned on one another closely. Sheppard, Ronon and Teyla rose to meet them.

“Teyla, you are well,” said Miruva. “That makes this day perfect. We cannot thank you enough. We would never have discovered it without you.”

“Oh, I dunno,” said Sheppard, putting a brave face on their own problems. “You’d have probably figured it out in time. We just gave you a little push.”

“But without that push we would all be dead,” Aralan said. All trace of bitterness had gone from his voice. “I see now that this is our future — and that it is clearly the will of the Ancestors.” He looked at his wife in affection and wonder. “We have all gained more than we could have hoped. I was wrong to judge you, Colonel Sheppard.”

“Aw, forget it,” said Sheppard, waving his hand dismissively. “If I’d been in your position, I’d have done the same. Can’t be a leader and let yourself get pushed around by a bunch of scruffy-looking travelers.”

Aralen smiled, though the expression was tinged with sadness. “A leader no more,” he said. “All things change.”

Without asking, Teyla knew who to address. “Con-gratulations,” she said to Miruva, clasping her hand. “You will be a fine Foremost of your people.”

Miruva looked at Orand, and they both grinned. “Not just me,” she said, pride evident in her voice. “There is much for us to do, and all skills will be needed. When the route to the surface has been made safe, then we must start the work of exploring this place. Even with the gene, it will take us many years to uncover its mysteries.”

“What’ll you do about the tunnels?” said Ronon.

“We will preserve them,” said Orand. “We cannot allow ourselves to become trapped. We will explore them for new resources and one day, when the planet is restored, we will use them to return to the surface.”

“Good,” said Ronon. “Hate to think all that wandering around was for nothing. Gotta admit, I didn’t think we’d ever get out.”

“Do not even think of that,” said Miruva. “You were all preserved, and that is enough. But what will you do now?”

“We gotta go,” said Sheppard. “Much as it looks nice around here.”

“Dr McKay is with our vessel,” said Teyla. “He thinks that we can still use the Stargate to return home.”

Aralen frowned. “You mean to return to the ice? The storm will still be fierce.”

“We have no choice,” said Teyla. “If the portal fails us, we will be stranded here — it is our only route home.”

“I wish you could stay,” said Miruva. “There is still much to learn about this place.”

Sheppard gave a grim smile. “Rodney would’ve liked to see it,” he said. “He’ll be mad as hell when we tell him what’s down here.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Orand. “You’ll need help on the ice.”

“No way,” said Ronon.

Sheppard nodded. “No dice, I’m afraid. You can’t help us out there.”

Miruva embraced Teyla. There were tears in her eyes, and Teyla felt her own throat tighten. “We will remember you always,” Miruva said. “The Ancestors will be with you.”

Ronon cast Sheppard a dark look. “They’d better be.”