Chapter Eleven

John dropped his head and stared at the floor of the lab, feeling beaten and aged. A few grains of sand still lanced the side of his face with pinpricks of heat, and he brushed them off. Hadn't he learned by now never to take anything for granted in this godforsaken galaxy? He'd had the possibility of a sandstorm half in mind; it was the reason why he'd brought the jumper despite the lab's proximity to the 'gate. But he'd never actually voiced that thought, never pointed out the obvious fact that arriving in a jumper assured their protection against the vagaries of climate.

"We…we came as soon as we realized a storm was upon us. Often we have no warning!"

Vend was stammering about some guy who'd offered to wait by the 'gate for Rodney to return, but John couldn't make himself listen. For a brief moment his anger redirected itself toward Rodney. Had he taken the jumper back to Atlantis and left it there, or not used it at all? The man had an advanced degree in self-preservation-why hadn't the risk crossed his mind? Such a pointless, inexplicable, infuriating, stupid waste… God, what were they supposed to do now?

A loud crack jerked him from his thoughts. Ronon had punched the glass again. John pushed himself up from the floor, knowing that trying to make sense of it all would be a waste of time. Rodney was gone. Atlantis was not, and they all needed to get their heads in the game fast if they were going to be of any help in protecting the city.

Still chalk-white, Radek lifted shaking hands to reposition his glasses. "I should have gone," he murmured. "I told him that it was in his computer, but I did not bring it. My ankle is not so bad that I could not have gone…"

"Radek, knock it off," John said quietly but firmly. "You can't hold yourself responsible for anything that slipped Rodney's mind, whether it's data or the jumper. Right now, we have to concentrate on what we can do for everyone else. All right?" He turned to the Polrusson, who was still babbling on about the abrupt nature of the storms. "How long will this last?"

Visibly shaken, Vend replied, "There is no way of knowing. Sometimes it takes hours, sometimes days. Although this is difficult and unpleasant, you must understand. We are able to bear the storms, so their length has never held much importance."

"To you. It matters a lot to us." Ronon stalked toward him, letting his anger show. "If your people can stand being outside, they need to go out there and find McKay."

"There will be little of him remaining by now." Shira cast her gaze downward, but the sadness in her voice was evidence that she spoke from experience. "Sometimes only yellow sand blows, other times a mixture of both, as you encountered on arrival. As you can see, this was a red storm."

"Even so. Having the body is important to our people."

At that, John glanced over. Our people. He'd never heard Ronon use such a phrase before, and he hoped it hadn't taken a teammate's death to make the Satedan feel that way.

"Of course," said Vene. "We will assemble a group immediately to search for your friend's body. After all he has sacrificed for us, it is the least we can do-but do not hope for much. As Shira has said, this is a red storm."

John swallowed, recalling Carson's words just a few hours earlier.

"I will accompany you back to the village," Vend offered. "I assume that you want to return to your home when possible."

"You assume right." Seeing Radek motionless in front of the computer, John reached out to grip his shoulder. "Radek?"

After a moment, the Czech shook himself and looked up. "We can still accomplish the water release and gather the ZPMs. I will need time to run more simulations, but…this is something Rodney would have wanted."

"Yeah, it is." And maybe it would keep Radek, and the rest of them, functionally sane in the process. John addressed Vend and Shira. "Can you give us a minute? We need to finish up some things here."

The Polrussons nodded and stepped out into the corridor, their faces darkened with regret. Once they were out of earshot, John said, "I didn't want to say too much with them hanging around. Elizabeth said that a lot of the sand got into the control room. What kind of damage could it have done?"

It took Radek a moment to process the information before he admitted, "I do not know the systems as well as Rodney. Could be big problem. I will not be able to say without investigation. But I can extend the life of the city shield once we recover the ZPMs from this planet. At least there will be time then to repair Daedalus."

He was staring at the computer screen as he spoke, focused on something undefined. John didn't know Radek Zelenka all that well, didn't know anything about his background or life experiences, but he recognized and respected the determination he saw in the other man's features.

Rubbing distractedly at his right ear, which felt like it had been scoured from the inside and was starting to ache, John listened as the scientist continued. "There remains a possibility that I will be able to locate Atlas's exogenesis machine, if the Polrussons can retrieve the data disc that Rodney brought back."

John's stomach lurched at the idea that they might find the blasted thing clutched in his friend's dead hand. He forcibly pushed that thought aside. "So, do you want to work here or back on Atlantis?"

"Here. I need to get more of these systems running." Radek eyed him with an unreadable expression. "If you are willing to stay, your gene will be most useful."

John wondered if he was being offered a coping tactic and decided he didn't care one way or the other. "Sure. I'll let Vene and Shira know you and I are going to hang out here for a while."

Passing the HAZMAT-suited personnel moving swiftly toward the 'gate room, Elizabeth headed for the infirmary, vainly trying to imbue order on all the information thrown at her in the space of moments. They'd been able to raise the shield by remote access to the computer system, and the wormhole had just recently disengaged after the requisite thirty-eight minutes. The control room, her office, and the surrounding areas were off-limits while a hastily assembled emergency crew removed the worst of the corrosive sand.

Simpson's team had completed its survey of the subsystems Rodney had deemed necessary to make Atlantis spaceworthy, and the news wasn't good. Many of the systems appeared to have problems that were beyond the team's understanding, let alone their capacity to repair. Simpson had told her honestly that it simply couldn't be done without Rodney's input.

And even though she had no evidence, Elizabeth knew that holding out any hope of Rodney's survival would be nothing more than denial. Two of her control room techs were now in critical condition after being struck by far less sand than anyone on Polrusso would have gotten. Most likely, Rodney had been dead before they'd even enabled the 'gate shield.

A sudden thought chilled her: it was possible that he'd fallen victim to the 'gate shield itself.

The professionalism of Carson's staff kept the infirmary from falling into chaos. A number of people had received injuries and bums of varying degrees. Elizabeth affixed a reassuring smile to her face and strode through the main bay, toward the bed of the 'gate operator. The young man opened his eyes at her approach.

"Sean, how are you feeling?" she asked, sliding into a chair by his bed.

"Okay, ma'am. I didn't get hit too badly." His hoarse voice and the heavy bandages enveloping his hands and forearms belied that statement.

"That's good to hear. Can you tell me any more about what happened?"

"I wish I knew. We didn't receive an IDC when the 'gate activated, but then Colonel Sheppard came on the radio and said that Dr. McKay was on his way. I tried to lower the shield, but it wouldn't respond. I don't know if it detected the sand or what, but the Colonel was yelling that Dr. McKay was already in transit and I had to get the shield down." Sean lifted a troubled gaze to her. "I thought it was the right thing to do, ma'am, but then Samir got hit right in the face… Do you know if he's all right?"

"The doctors are working on him now. He's in good hands." She knew that Samir would be lucky if he only lost his eyesight. Since the Ancients had told the Polrussons that the sand was a normal component of terraforming, it stood to reason that the 'gate shield would be programmed to guard against it. Not that any of them could have known. "It was the right thing to do," she assured Sean, leaning forward and laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I would have given the same order if I'd been in the control room. I just-I need to know something." It was an awful question, but there was no way around it. "Before you were able to lower the shield, did you hear anything large strike it?"

His eyes widened. "No."

"You're certain?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'd know if anything… anyone hit the shield. You can run a diagnostic to make sure."

While Elizabeth wanted to do just that, everyone qualified to run the program was either stuck on Polrusso, on the returning Daedalus, in the infirmary, or dead. "Thank you, Sean. Get some rest."

She couldn't bear to stay there any longer, looking at all the people who'd been hurt in their failed attempt to bring a colleague home. Escaping into the corridor, she was waylaid by the engineer in charge of monitoring Ea's exogenesis machine.

"I was hoping I'd find you here, Dr. Weir." The man's grim expression elevated her tension even more. "The device is gaining speed. It's digging through the ground at nearly triple its previous rate, and it's still getting faster. We're theorizing that it recently hit softer rock."

Just what we needed. "How long?"

"Impossible to tell. It could slow down again if it encounters a harder layer. If it continues at its current pace, days at most before it reaches the mantle." He sighed. "But if it continues to gain speed, or stops drilling because it's tapped into sufficient heat to power the next stage of operations, we'll need to consider enhancing the city shield as soon as the Daedalus returns. The longer we wait, the more we risk an uncontrolled nanite infestation on Atlantis."

She hadn't thought it would be possible, but Elizabeth felt yet another spike of anxiety. "If we increase the power to the shield too soon, we'll drain our reserves before the Daedalus can complete repairs."

"That's true. But the exogenesis machine is already beginning to separate." The engineer withdrew a printout from a folder in his hand and showed her the progression over time: first a single bright area of the Ancient composite material, then two, then four. "For all we know, these could be the component parts of the nanite manufacturing process. I plan to ask Dr. Beckett about it as soon as he arrives-he might know more."

"Please do that. And keep me informed." Elizabeth's com signaled, and she bit back a multilingual slew of curses. "Go ahead."

"Dr. Weir, we've just finished the diagnostic on the main dialing computer," another engineer reported-God, she was starting to lose track of who was doing what. "We can't dial out at all, even by remote access."

She ran her fingers across her temples and leaned against the wall. "Can you fix it?"

"We'll make it happen, ma'am, but…"

"But what?"

"But it would go a lot faster if Dr. McKay or Dr. Zelenka were here."

Ronon hefted a large sack onto the nearby cart and gave the animal hitched to it a wary look. The creature snuffled and ducked its head. "He will not provoke you," Shira promised, lifting another sack.

"He keeps looking at my hair like he wants to chew it."

The Polrusson woman laughed. "It probably reminds him of his mate. She had a long mane."

That didn't reassure him in the slightest. Ronon eased out of the animal's reach and continued to load the cart with goods. The storm still raged outside, and he'd grown increasingly frustrated with doing nothing in the Ancient lab, so when Shira had timidly requested his help in packing her cart with food and water for the new village, he'd agreed without a second thought.

While they worked, her children chased each other around the cart's wheels and through the adults' legs. In the market square, a dozen or so other carts were also being loaded with possessions. From what he had seen on the walk there, the entire village was gearing up for the exodus to its long-awaited future home.

A barrel of water stood beside the cart, and he reached in for a scoop. When he raised it to his lips, the salty taste caught him unawares, and he spat it out.

The children shrieked when the water fell on them, then they began to giggle. With an apologetic smile, Shira picked up a gourd lying next to the barrel. "You must drink through this. It filters out the salt."

Self-consciously, Ronon accepted the gourd and dipped it into the water. Sure enough, the water that seeped out through the slits at the bottom was sweet. "Everything around here has adapted to a hard life "

"You could say that. All of our plants have this ability. Their tough skins make them resistant to the sand. We have long traded with other worlds who find such plants useful." Shira's voice took on a note of wonder. "I can hardly imagine what it will be like to see water fall from the sky. Many people have seen this on other worlds, and they say it is amazing. A cousin of mine even speaks of a planet that is nearly covered by a single, vast ocean." She turned shining eyes to him. "Have you ever encountered such a thing?"

He was considering how to reply when several people, still wearing their sand-resistant robes, entered the open area from an atrium that led outside. Ronon recognized the men as the search party sent out after McKay. One of them produced a small, flat metallic object from under his cloak.

"Where did you find it?" Ronon demanded, striding forward with his hand outstretched. The scientist often packed data discs inside such cases in order to protect them.

"It was lying right next to the 'gate," the man answered, passing it to him. "I regret to say that it was the only evidence we found of your friend."

"No clothing or shoes? Not even bones?" Although Ronon rarely paid much attention to the scientists' chatter, he knew the lightweight case was made of a soft metal called aluminum. Since it had survived with only deep pitting, something of McKay should have been nearby.

The man shook his head. "Perhaps he was able to travel through the 'gate after all."

"He wasn't," Ronon said, resolute. "We were talking to our people at the other end. He never made it through."

Shira looked away and busied herself with the cart once more. Her sudden reticence set off an alarm in his mind. Ronon's first instinct was to grab the man and force the truth from him, but his time on Atlantis had taught him that something called diplomacy might actually work more efficiently. "Thank you for your efforts," he told the man, then went back to her. "I have to take this disc back to the lab. Walk with me?"

After a moment's hesitation, she agreed. They traveled in silence for a few minutes. Despite this effort at diplomacy, his style of information gathering had never been subtle, so he simply came out and asked the question. "Why did you look so uncertain when I asked about McKay?"

"I am merely grieved that your people have suffered such a loss. The storms are cruel. They are the reason why so few are willing to travel here, why you had heard such dark tales about Polrusso."

Still she wouldn't meet his eyes. "That's not it," Ronon said bluntly. "I know what it's like to be an outcast. The Wraith hunted me for sport for years, punishing anyone who dared show me kindness. If it weren't for the people I travel with now, I'd still be living that life."

Shira blinked, surprised. "You are not of their world?"

"No. What binds us together is our desire to vanquish the Wraith-not just for ourselves, but for every world in this galaxy." He was sure he could see an inherent sense of honesty in this woman, and he wasn't above instilling a little guilt if it accomplished his ends. "If you know something that could help us, you shouldn't hide it, especially when we're trying to help your people."

She hesitated again, long enough for them to reach the lab. Stepping inside, Ronon noted through the still-open doors that the storm was abating. Sheppard was leaning on the lab bench a little too heavily, lines of strain etched into his face. "You okay?" Ronon asked.

"Headache. Damned sand," Sheppard replied curtly. "They find any sign of Rodney yet?"

"No, not even his GDO," Ronon answered. "But they did find this." Turning so that Shira couldn't see the expression on his face, he met Sheppard's gaze meaningfully as he handed Zelenka the disc.

The Czech hardly reacted, and Ronon wondered if he'd picked up on the situation. Sheppard surely had, because he froze, and his tone became deliberate. "Radek, if it doesn't work we'll need to go back for the other one."

After examining the glistening, unmarked disc inside, Zelenka met his eyes for a moment before nodding. "It has been damaged by the sand. We will need to return for a duplicate before we can continue." Pausing, he turned to Shira and added, "However, I have finished my calculations of the necessary sequence and timing to shut down the terraforming machine."

"The storm's almost passed," Sheppard said pointedly, his gaze also trained on Shira. "We need to get back to our people and find out what happened on their end."

Shira's eyes darted from him to Ronon and back. Her suddenly worried expression suggested that she knew exactly what was going on. "Of course," she said at last. "I will inform the Elders."

Zelenka had already packed away most of the equipment he'd brought. Outside, the wind had dropped away to nothing, and the three of them left the lab via the rear entrance and started back to the jumper. Only a few steps past the door, Sheppard began to list to the right, nearly falling. Ronon instinctively seized his arm and held fast until he was sure the other man wouldn't collapse. "This is `okay'?"

Cursing viciously under his breath, Sheppard righted himself. "Later."

Shira must have moved fast, because Vene and some of the other Elders arrived at the jumper as they finished loading the last of their equipment. The Polrussons looked stricken, terrified that their dreams of a better world were about to vanish through the Stargate.

Sheppard appeared to be in no mood to reassure them. "Dial the 'gate," he told Zelenka, who nodded stonily and moved to the DHD to comply. Ronon positioned himself at the jumper's open hatch, keeping one hand on his weapon and wondering why the Czech never came to the Marines' poker nights. Zelenka seemed more than ready to leave this wretched planet-ZPMs and all-behind. Perhaps permanently.

When the wormhole appeared, the Colonel activated his com. "Dr. Weir, this is Sheppard."

"It's good to hear from you, Colonel." Dr. Weir responded. "We've taken some damage to our dialing computer, so I'm relieved to know that establishing an incoming wormhole is still possible. You're on your way back?"

"We are," he confirmed, his eyes fixed on Vend. "Listen, I have to ask. Did Rodney ever make it back?"

None of them had expected to hear any differently, but the pause still hurt. "No, he didn't."

Vend couldn't hear the reply, of course, but he flinched under Sheppard's gaze, and Ronon felt a spark of fury. These people knew something, and even after all this, they were holding back.

"Surely you would not leave us when our deliverance is within reach," an Elder pleaded when Radek walked past him and stepped into the jumper.

"If we're being fed a lie about what happened to our friend? You bet your ass we would." Sheppard's voice was cold. "Yes, the sand is destructive. But even if we accept that every last bit of Dr. McKay, right down to the fillings in his teeth and buttons on his shirt, was either eaten away or blown away, you can't stand there and tell me with a straight face that a lousy DVD survived out here while McKay's weapon and GDO mysteriously vanished. That's impossible just based on weight alone. So either you tell me something that makes sense, or we're done here"

"John, we need your team back here now," Dr. Weir said over their coms. "We're running out of time. The exogenesis machine is gaining speed, and Teyla and Halling are trapped on the mainland, searching for Jinto. We need Dr. Zelenka to direct repairs to the dialing computer, for a start, and the list just keeps getting longer."

When his hard stare failed to break Vend's resolve, Sheppard turned around and stalked into the jumper. Covering him, Ronon reached toward the hatch controls.

"Vene, we must tell them," Shira blurted out suddenly.

"Tell us what?" demanded Ronon, pausing.

"It will not bring your friend back," Vene warned. "One way or another, he is dead… but one of our people was outside when the storm hit and saw a Wraith beam take Dr. McKay. By then, there was little that remained of him. His face was gone, his hands nothing but stumps."

"What?" Sheppard lunged out of his seat, catching himself on the bulkhead to stay on his feet. "Why didn't you tell us before?"

"Does it make any difference? Your friend is dead. We feared if we told you, the threat of the Wraith would drive you away."

"Well, apparently you didn't need the Wraith's help" The Colonel, it seemed, possessed more capacity for anger than Ronon had ever realized. "You're doing a really expert job of driving us away all by yourselves."

"Please," Shira called softly, her eyes darting to each of them inside the jumper. "Do not abandon us simply because our courage failed."

"Is there a problem?" Dr. Weir asked, sounding increasingly tense. "Power's becoming an issue here."

Her voice was soon replaced by Caldwell's. "Colonel, get moving. Things are going to hell and you are needed here."

For an instant, Ronon wasn't sure what their next move would be. Then, abruptly, Sheppard returned to the pilot's seat, not sparing a glance at the Polrussons. "Yes, sir."

Ronon kept his eyes fixed inside the jumper as he activated the hatch, cutting off the villagers' anguished pleas.

Teyla pushed onward, climbing the next rise even as her legs protested. She was learning just how long muscle cramps could be ignored when one possessed sufficient motivation to keep moving. Of course, time had held little meaning since the first moments of this nightmare.

After beaming into the main camp, Lieutenant Corletti had risked flying Jumper Three above the mudslide that blocked the main path to the lake. But the jumper was clearly in no condition to travel further than a rocky ledge just above the section of the mountain that had collapsed. Unfortunately, on foot, they had been forced to deviate around several uprooted trees and smaller landslides along the path.

"Jinto!" The winds were dying down, but Halling's voice was faltering after so many shouts. "Do you hear us?"

So accustomed had she become to hearing no response that the resulting cry caught her off-guard. "Father! We are here!"

Ahead of them, Corletti broke into a wide grin and hurried up the clearest path-down which Jinto came barreling.

Halling swept his son into his arms, and Teyla ran to greet the others. Six Athosians had composed the lakeside group, and now, finally, all of them had been found.

"The storm is ending," Jinto said happily, pointing to the clearing skies. "We can return home."

Over the boy's head, Halling exchanged an uneasy glance with Teyla. Sensing the need for a diversion, Corletti called Jinto and broke open a bar of chocolate for him to share with his friend Tiro.

"We should prepare for the ritual," Hailing said quietly, his gaze resolute.

"No." On this point Teyla was unwilling to negotiate. "Our deaths are not yet certain. If that changes, there will be time left for the ritual."

Halling looked like he wanted to disagree, but conceded. "Perhaps you are right. There may yet be time."

Approaching them, Corletti said, "If the weather keeps improving and I can get a little technical advice on what to do, the jumper ought to be able to get back to Atlantis even without the dampeners. It'll depend on their status"

"I agree." Teyla motioned to the group to gather.

"Why must we leave the land and go back to Atlantis?" Tiro asked, looking up from his share of the chocolate.

"I will explain as we go, but we must move quickly. Should the storm return, if nothing else, the jumper will provide us some protection."

While they covered the trail at a pace the Marines called a jog, Teyla attempted to describe the effects of the exogenesis machine and the impending nanite infestation. The adults seemed to understand, and the pace quickened. Jinto, however, frowned and hurried to run alongside her at the front of the group.

"I still don't understand what nanites are," he said.

Looking for a way to explain, Teyla suggested, "Imagine if this world were made from the small blocks that Colonel Sheppard brought for you from Earth."

Jinto nodded. "He called them Legos."

The boy matched her stride without difficulty. Proud that Halling's son was growing into such a strong young man, Teyla allowed herself a brief smile in spite of the situation. "This machine will break apart the entire world, just as you break apart those blocks in order to build new toys-except that these blocks are so small that you cannot see them without Dr. Beckett's microscope, and they are all the exact same size and color."

"What color?"

"According to Dr. McKay"-the name nearly caught in her throat; in her joy over finding her people, she had nearly forgot- ten-"gray."

Jinto glanced over his shoulder. "You mean, like that?"

Teyla paused. In the distance, a tiny portion of the mountainside, already a patchwork of leafless grays and browns because of the storm, appeared to have taken on a flatter, more ubiquitous hue, as if a portion of the land was…. smudged. It might have been her imagination, but that was a risk she was unwilling to take. "We should hurry," she called, and the pace accelerated again.

A few minutes later, she looked back. "I'm pretty sure that patch is getting bigger," Corletti said, as if reading her thoughts. "I vote we double-time it." She winced as the running jostled her injured shoulder but did not reduce her pace.

"And then?" Halling asked.

Teyla glanced over her shoulder again. This time, there was no doubt. The gray mass was expanding. "We will determine that when we arrive."

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