Exogenesis

Chapter Sixteen

In the jumper bay, Teyla offered a reassuring smile to the young.man who was being wheeled away on a gurney. Dr. Beckett had assessed the Athosian refugees' injuries, and members of his staff had been assigned to tend to each one.

The doctor looked exhausted but straightened up as soon as she approached. "And how about you, lass? Do you hurt anywhere?" His eyes traveled to the gash on her forehead, long since washed clean by the rain.

She shook her head. "Do not trouble yourself. I am only bruised. Has the evacuation begun?"

With a sigh, Beckett stretched obviously stiff muscles and then took a swab from his kit to clean her head wound. "Just a few minutes ago," he said, dabbing gently. "We're sending people to the Alpha site with as much equipment as we can salvage."

"I should speak with Dr. Weir about the role of my people in this." The cut stung briefly.

"Aye, I expect so. She's down in her office, I believe." He applied a small bandage and added, "That should do it. It's quite a clean injury"

On the short walk, Teyla considered the future. Her people would adapt to a new home; they had done so before. She feared, though, that the loss of Atlantis would deal a harsh blow to the struggle against the Wraith for all the peoples of this galaxy.

When Teyla entered, Dr. Weir looked up from an array of paperwork covering her desk. Many more files were packed in cases stacked up on the floor. A weary but sincere smile broke across her face. "Teyla. It's good to have you back."

"Thank you. My people are very grateful for your efforts to help bring us in." She glanced outside when the Stargate opened. Several dozen people crowded nearby, carrying equipment or standing beside baggage carts. All wore the same exhausted, despondent expressions on their faces.

"We're still a team-a family, even," the city's leader said firmly, standing from her desk and coming to join her. "Even now, or maybe especially now. The Athosians who were injured in the evacuation of the mainland are still in the infirmary. The rest have already gone to the Alpha site with the expedition's first group."

Teyla nodded and walked outside with her to the balcony. "The city evacuation is proceeding as planned?" A deep sadness settled over her heart as she watched the current group make its way through the 'gate. Perhaps she imagined it, but their steps seemed slow and unwilling, and many looked back, taking in one final memory of their adopted home.

"You could say that, except we keep amending the plans as we go." Dr. Weir glanced at her office and her desk. "We'll know whether Dr. Zelenka's mission was successful in a few hours. Until then, the Alpha site is our focus."

"And after that?" Teyla was obliged to ask. "If your people travel back to your home galaxy, will anyone return?"

A mix of emotions flitted across the Earth woman's features. She clasped her hands before her. "I don't-"

Teyla held up a hand. "I understand that such a decision cannot be made here and now. And I understand as well that your world's leaders must act on their people's behalf. Just-please ask them to consider that even if Atlantis is lost, far more will be lost to my people and many others if your expedition ends. All that has been learned, the friends and enemies made…" A sudden feeling of hopelessness swept over her as she considered what it would mean to start over again: the merciless pursuits, the constant fear. Gathering herself, she finished quietly, "It should count for something."

For a moment, Weir looked away, an unusual reaction from her. "I know. All I can promise is that we'll do everything we can to make certain that this galaxy is not left to face the Wraith alone. It would be naive of my world's leaders to think that the Wraith, knowing of the existence of Earth and the many other worlds in our galaxy, would abandon their hope of turning their sights on us. It's in all of our interests to support you."

Before Teyla could ask the whereabouts of Colonel Sheppard and Ronon, the control room shuddered and the 'gate shut down. Steadying herself on the railing, she traded a look of alarm with an equally shaken Dr. Weir, who asked loudly, "What's happening?"

"Ma'am, the exogenesis machine has reached the asthenosphere" A tech called up a map on the main screen, which Teyla and Dr. Weir both approached. "It's sending seismic shocks through the planet."

"Did everyone in transit make it to the Alpha site before the 'gate shut down?"

"Yes, ma'am. The shutdown occurred due to an inbuilt safety protocol."

Weir touched her earpiece. "Dr. Beckett to the control room, please." Her request was punctuated by another shock, and she grabbed the closest console to brace herself. "Will the city be able to withstand all this?"

"The seismic activity, yes." A scientist moved to join them. "But the shocks are initiating seismic waves-like tsunamis, but on a much larger and continuous scale. We've got about an hour until the first one hits, so we'll need to increase power to the shields before then."

"Do it," Weir ordered. "Wait as long as possible, but do it. What about our ability to dial out again? Are these shocks going to interfere with our evacuation to the Alpha site?"

"Running a diagnostic now," reported the 'gate tech.

Colonel Caldwell charged into the control room, with Dr. Beckett not far behind. The officer was poised to ask a question, but waited as the scientist continued. "This exacerbates our power problem significantly. We'll have to maintain the shield at full strength indefinitely to protect against the nanites and the shockwaves. It's also possible that the system holding Atlantis in a fixed position may not be able to withstand the sustained pressure, in which case we're going to have to employ the inertial dampeners linked to the city's engines."

"How long do we have at full shield strength before the ZPM is depleted?"

"Assuming the shocks maintain their current magnitude, which we certainly can't guarantee"-the scientist ran a quick calculation, and then looked up, his eyes bright with concern-"just under thirty-five hours."

Caldwell rounded on Beckett. "Doctor, any information to offer?"

Studying the image on the screen, Beckett shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he admitted. When Caldwell continued to stare at him, he added, "Honestly, I'd be more specific if I could. All I get is occasional bits of secondhand memory, and they're limited by my understanding-or lack thereof-of the machine. For all I know, the planet might disintegrate right under us "

By now Teyla was rarely surprised at the capabilities of the Ancestors' technology. Still, the idea that such a small object could wreak so much damage was shocking and humbling.

"How are the Daedalus repairs coming'?" Dr. Weir asked.

The ship's commander was pensive. "As expected, and not much faster. No one ever considered trying to fabricate these kinds of parts in the field before now. Titanium is notoriously difficult to work with, and my maintenance group wasn't trained in metalworking. Thirty-five hours would be a wildly optimistic goal for completion."

"I was afraid of that."

"If we're very lucky, we might be able to finish machining the necessary parts just under the wire," Caldwell said. "When the crew evacuates with the last of the Atlantis personnel, I'll assemble a volunteer crew and take the ship to the planet at the edge of this star system. We'll install the new parts and get the hyperdrive operational, then meet up with you at the Alpha site."

He didn't voice the alternative. Repairing the Daedalus's interstellar engines would be difficult enough on Atlantis, but Teyla had journeyed to that nearby planet when then-Major Sheppard's team had come under attack from the `super-Wraith,' and she knew it to be less than hospitable. She could see in Dr. Weir's expression that the other leader detested the idea of dividing the group, but it was the best choice for them all.

"Off-world activation," the 'gate tech suddenly reported. "The system appears to be stable. I don't think we'll experience another automated shutdown." Teyla turned to see the wormhole engage. "It's Dr. Zelenka."

"Radek, this is Elizabeth. Please give us good news "

"Well…news is not the worst so far," Zelenka offered tentatively. "The Polrussons are leaving the areas that will be impacted by the removal of the ZPMs. However, I discovered new information in the Ancient database here about the nature of the force fields. They do not reinforce a rock face keeping back the water, as we had theorized. Instead, they are like huge cups, holding both water and land in place. Over the years, many faults have developed in the rock. Also, many of the ZPMs are nearing depletion. Once the first of them is removed, the power grid will be insufficient to retain land or water."

Dr. Weir seemed to process the implications quickly. "So it's all or nothing?"

"Yes." Teyla imagined the scientist walking in an absentminded circle as he talked. "The water is held in connecting reservoirs, each roughly the size of a large Earth nation. It is unlikely that we will be able to recover more than the first and last ZPMs in the chain. The others will be rapidly washed away."

"What if we sent more jumpers to collect the other ZPMs simultaneously?" Weir asked, automatically bracing herself when another tremor struck the city.

"Very dangerous," answered Zelenka. "Too dangerous. The ZPMs are deep underground. It would take too long to reach them, and any attempt to remove them even a moment early would disrupt the sequence."

"I see. But we could still get two?"

"If we are fortunate, yes."

Two modules would not save the city, Teyla knew. But the additional power would give them much-needed time to repair the Daedalus. Perhaps it would be enough.

Weir nodded, almost to herself, as if trying to restore her own confidence in order to encourage others. "Anything on the second exogenesis device?"

"I have run three different scans, and found no energy or material signature anywhere in the area to match that of the machine. I have checked the database, even though Atlas's device was not a sanctioned part of the project. There are some files about an experiment unique to Polrusso, but I have not been able to study them yet. I will endeavor to bring them back with me."

"Do that, Radek, but we're out of time. The exogenesis machine here appears to be running another program. We need to draw maximum power for the city shield." Weir glanced at Teyla. "I'm sending another jumper through to help you collect the ZPMs."

"I will go," Teyla said immediately, knowing her team would be called upon.

"We will need a third jumper," Zelenka told them. "Jumper Two is connected to a sort of keyhole here at the lab. If it detaches, I will lose access to the complete Ancient database."

"All right. Expect two jumpers within the next ten minutes."

"Five," Caldwell corrected Dr. Weir's statement. Atlantis's leader sent him a look Teyla couldn't decipher, but he was already speaking on his com, ordering two teams to the jumper bay. Neither contained the names she had expected to hear.

"Colonel? I had assumed I would go with Colonel Sheppard and Ronon…" She left the query open.

"Colonel Sheppard is not medically cleared to fly, and Mr. Dex has been confined to quarters." Before she could grasp his words enough to request an explanation, Caldwell's attention was diverted. Raising a hand to his earpiece, he turned to Weir. "I have to get back to the Daedalus. Hermiod has a status update, and he needs to know the contingency plans. They all do."

"Go." Weir nodded as he quickly departed. Interpreting Teyla's concern, she said, "John's all right. It's just-it's a long story. Teyla, you're not obligated to join one of the jumper teams."

Weighing the choice, Teyla decided that the makeup of the team was a lesser issue. "Still, I will do so. The Marines have much left to do here. My presence on the mission will allow one of them to stay and help."

"Thank you. And good luck."

Briefly bowing her head in acknowledgement, she left.

The two jumpers descended into the 'gate room from the bay above, one following the other, almost like cars on an assembly line. Elizabeth watched them move into position for their transit through the event horizon. When both had disappeared into the rippling void, she started toward her office.

The expected sound of the wormhole disengaging never reached her ears. After a moment, she heard a timid question from the tech on duty. "Dr. Weir, you said two jumpers were going, right?"

She flew back to the railing in half a second, and saw a third craft perform a rather graceless descent from the jumper bay before being steadied by the automatic 'gate sequence. "Who is that?" she demanded, even as she realized what the answer must be.

In two strides she was at the control console and slapping at the com. "Jumper One, what the hell are you doing?"

John's response was brief, earnest, and nowhere close to satisfying. "Sorry, Elizabeth."

Then the jumper was through the event horizon and gone. When the 'gate shut down, she leaned forward until her forehead nearly touched the rail, getting her frustration under control as quickly as possible. She didn't need to check with Ronon's guards to know that he must have gone with John in search of Rodney. The surge of disbelief and anger that resulted from her military advisor's defiance-again-was soon quelled by the fatalistic realization that their actions would result in little risk at this point, except to themselves. If they stirred the Wraith nest now, it would be too late to make any difference. The water would soon be on top of them all.

Rodney scuttled backward on the bed, pressing himself as far into the corner as possible. When nothing grabbed him, his analytical side started to catch up to his paranoid side. This wasn't the Wraith's style. He'd heard his teammates' descriptions of hive ship decor many times, and they'd all tended towards the same creepedout slimy places like that hellish supply ship Gall had died in rather than comfortable, clean-sheeted beds.

And no Wraith would have hands as soft and gentle as Turpi's. Then again, if she could get into his mind, what was to stop her from affecting the way he perceived her touch? Could a Wraith project thoughts that detailed?

His vision would have been singularly useful right about now. Still, for the first time in what seemed like ages, the fog had entirely cleared from his head. All he felt, besides his own wariness, was a sense of overwhelming regret from Turpi.

"So, just for the record," he said, hoping to convey an air of composure. "Not Wraith, right?"

"No!" She sounded distressed, but Rodney was too emotionally whiplashed to have much sympathy. "I did not mean to frighten you. We use the beam because it is the only way to gather and protect the children. And I… I must also calm their stricken minds. They must be prevented from hurting themselves or others until they learn to control their abilities "

At her explanation, he began to understand just what it was the villagers saw as madness. These kids weren't going after their parents with kitchen knives or bringing guns to school. With uncontrolled telepathic and healing powers, they could likely stop a person's heart just by wishing it.

Damn it, that was going to prompt a whole new phobia- and he still hadn't gotten over the previous scare. "How do I know you're not manipulating me now?" he demanded, unwilling to give up the emotional walls that had been his mainstay since kindergarten.

"I am not."

"Well, forgive me for being a tiny bit cautious, but that's what you said the last time. If you can plant an image in my head, how am I ever supposed to know what's real and what isn't? This is my mind we're talking about here! This is the one thing that no one, absolutely no one should ever mess with!"

She gave no answer.

"Hello? Isn't it impolite to give a blind person the silent treatment?"

"She has left," Nabu's resonant voice replied. "Turpi's empathic ability is exceptionally strong. She sees that you do not trust her. It affects her deeply."

Paying attention to nuance in much of anything had never been one of Rodney's priorities. But with at least two of his five senses compromised, he found himself listening more carefully. Nabu's tone was solemn and held no trace of malice. Rodney was also certain-perhaps because Turpi had left the room-that he and he alone was occupying his head. He felt an unfamiliar twinge of guilt for having lashed out at her.

Something soft landed on his legs. "I have brought clothing," said Nabu. "If you will permit me to help you dress, we can walk for a while."

"Uh, thanks" Cautiously, Rodney moved to sit on the edge of the bed. "Where will Turpi go?"

"To the children. They have been asking for her for some time, but she has been devoted to your recovery."

Way to rub it in, thanks. He'd acted like a jerk, and he knew it. Since these people could read minds, they no doubt knew that it was hardly the first time. He felt the soft fabric of a shirt being pulled over his head, and lifted his arms to facilitate the inevitable awkwardness with the sleeves.

"All the children adore Turpi," Nabu continued, a note of paternal pride in his voice. "She senses and soothes their torment from the moment they arrive. She is the only mother many of them have ever known."

Loose pants were slipped over one foot and then the other. Rodney ignored the flush of embarrassment that resulted from being dressed like a toddler and rose tentatively from the bed. To his relief, his legs supported him without complaint, and his bare feet felt considerably more intact than his hands. For the first time, he was inclined to feel some appreciation for military-issue boots.

Now what? Before he could ask, a large hand closed around his elbow. "I will guide you. Keep your steps small."

The material underfoot was cool, and its texture felt like stonework or perhaps slate tiling. It occurred to Rodney that he ought to be counting steps and memorizing turns, in case an escape became necessary later. He suspected that the half-baked notion stemmed from too many action-movie nights and too many outings with Sheppard and his merry Marines. The whole walking thing wasn't nearly as easy as it looked, and he was ready to give up before they'd gone more than fifty feet.

Then he heard something unexpected, and the numbers he'd so carefully fixed in his mind went up in smoke. "Is that-?"

"The children are playing," Nabu confirmed. Peals of laughter echoed all around what must have been an open expanse of land. It wouldn't have been Rodney's preferred backdrop, but just then it sounded very normal and reassuring. Whatever else he knew about the Wraith, they were not, and could never be, as innocent as those young voices.

A moment passed before he realized that he wasn't walking on sand but a spongy grass-like surface. The sun on his face felt warm, but not in the parched, stifling way he remembered. The air held some moisture here, and he heard the rustle of leaves and-was that a bird? "This can't possibly still be Polrusso," he stated, almost daring Nabu to claim otherwise.

"Your surprise is understandable." Nabu guided his arm to the side until it bumped against something. "That is the arm of a chair. Please, sit."

Rodney did as suggested, and the odd echo of the children's voices gave him his answer. "We're not outside, are we?"

"No, we are not "

The whisper of Nabu's clothes and the soft creak of a chair announced that the other man presumably had sat down. "This is an enclosed habitat," Nabu continued, "protected from the sand. In this place, samples of plants and animals are stored from a biotic bank which will be used when the terraforming of Polrusso is complete."

"So you know about the Ancients' terraforming plans as well." Rodney had a number of questions on that front, but he found himself fascinated by the very idea of the garden. His hearing had definitely improved, because he could clearly distinguish different bird sounds-judging by the flapping of wings they had to be birds-and something that might have been insects or frogs. Frogs? Which meant pools and running water someplace. "This is a sustainable ecosystem, all by itself?"

"We are careful to maintain its balance, and it has benefited us in many ways."

An imperceptible shift in the atmosphere signaled to Rodney that someone else had approached them. Feeling a familiar sense of hesitation, he asked, "Turpi?"

Her hand touched his shoulder, but the ever-soothing sense of her presence was absent from his mind. He found he missed it terribly.

"You no longer fear me?" she asked.

"No. Before, when I, you know-" He was lousy at apologies. Probably due to a distinct lack of practice. "It was just a lot to take in.,

Although he couldn't see her, he sensed her shy pleasure, as if he'd presented her with a sonnet. "I am relieved," she said softly. "Are you hungry? I have brought a meal."

As it turned out, the soup he'd eaten before had only hinted at the culinary talents of this community. Turpi lifted each delicate bite to his lips, occasionally offering sips of a sweet wine. She was easily the most selfless being ever created, and he had trouble believing he'd ever been obtuse enough to doubt her.

"You are recovering well," she said approvingly.

"You insisted on it, daughter," Nabu commented, a mild rebuke in his tone. When Rodney frowned, he explained. "Your healing is due to Turpi alone, for her gift is almost as strong as that of the Ancients. She gave so much of herself-too much, really-to ensure that you would live."

The food was too good to curdle in his stomach, but he felt a momentary spasm. "I take it I had a close call?"

"You were a heartbeat away from death when I beamed you aboard my Dart. The skin had been stripped from your body, your eyes, ears and lips gone. The sand had begun to eat into your brain-"

"I get the idea." Now feeling distinctly ill, he swallowed, but he had to ask the next question. "Will I really be able to see again`? Or are we talking about light and dark blurs from now on?"

"The eyes and fingers have the most complex nerve endings. They will take the longest time to heal, but heal they will." Her lips brushed his temple before she raised the wine glass again. "In a few more days, you will be as beautiful as you once were"

Rodney considered himself fortunate to have avoided choking on the wine. Of all the words that had been used to describe him in the past, `beautiful' had never cracked the list. She'd seen him literally in pieces, and she'd seen inside his mind, and somehow she still was attracted to him. The concept amazed and touched him. He wanted to say something, but demonstrating gratitude wasn't one of his better-honed skills, either.

Thankfully, she didn't need to hear the words. "I was pleased to do it."

Feeling more secure than he had in some time, Rodney figured now was as good a moment as any to get some answers. "Nabu, how is it that you managed to steal and operate a Wraith Dart?"

"The tale is complicated. You must understand our history." The clink of eating implements being placed on a plate told him that Nabu had finished his own meal and settled back in his chair. "You know that some of us have the ability to see into the minds of others. To varying degrees, this includes the minds of the Wraith. When I was a young man, I was aware of being different, but had no understanding of how. Then, not long before I came of age, my village fell under attack by a group of Darts." His voice changed, taking on a darker tone that Rodney might not have detected if he'd been able to see. "When my family was among those taken, I was filled with an overpowering rage that I focused on the pilot of a Dart. The force of my anger caused the machine to crash. I realized only later that it had also killed my family and several others."

Rodney drew in a sharp breath. There was emotional baggage, and then there was emotional baggage…

"Other villagers witnessed what I had done," Nabu continued. "They saw my body glow with energy, and they were terrified."

Rodney clearly saw the images projected into his mind. He didn't try to fight them; there was nothing invasive about it, more like a movie that he could choose to watch or not. Except this was no movie but a heart-wrenching account of loss and betrayal. The images were shocking. Rejection alone would have been bad enough, but this was a witch-hunt. Dozens, hundreds of villagers screaming at a terrified kid, already distraught beyond measure after having inadvertently killed his family, driving him away from their homes with sticks and fistfuls of sand and fear-torn, ugly faces.

"They fled into their homes ahead of a sand storm. I was little more than a child, but no one would grant me shelter. Only after the sand had caused me disfiguring bums did I harness my ability well enough to force a second Dart to land. I had not intended to kill the pilot, nevertheless he was dead, so I took shelter inside his machine. When the other Darts left and the storm abated, the frightened villagers came out to attack me."

"So you used the Dart to escape," Rodney saw.

"It was not difficult, since the machine responds to mental commands. I fled to a village that had been decimated by a prior Wraith attack, and survived by using the Dart during storms to steal food and supplies from other villages."

The entire situation now became alarmingly clear. "Which propagated the myth of Wraith raids during storms."

"A misunderstanding I very much regret. At the time, there was little choice. Today we have no need to steal, but the fear persists." Resignation was heavy in Nabu's voice. "During one of my early forays, I heard the mind-cries of five children left to die in the sand and sensed a kinship with them. I beamed them onto the Dart and brought them back with me, but their injuries were too grave. Only one survived the ordeal. In time, though, I was able to save others. Slowly we began to learn and teach each other how to control our abilities. Many died in the process: some because I arrived too late to save them from the sands, others because they could not control their powers. Still more were driven truly mad by the torment of listening to a thousand minds flinging hatred and fear at them. However, over generations-"

"Whoa, back up," Rodney broke in. "Generations? How old are you?"

"I have seen many generations pass. My longevity is my physical abnormality"

Thrown for a loop, Rodney could only gape in the other man's general direction. What he could do with a few extra years… "Are you kidding? If anyone asked-and no one has-I'd take that burden gladly. For one thing, all those experiences must be an incredible weapon against the Wraith."

"We rarely have a need to engage the Wraith," Nabu said, "unless it is to take additional Darts for the purpose of rescuing more abandoned children. Though the cliff-dwellers may believe the Wraith continue to terrorize this world, we have long been able to protect it through deception. Recently, a group of our strongest telepaths convinced a hive ship that Polrusso was a barren wasteland, home to only a few sickly inhabitants unworthy of the hive's attention."

Ideas were coming to Rodney faster than he could process them. Overwhelmed, he stammered, "Do you realize what incred ible potential your people have? If it only takes a few minds to create a planet-wide subterfuge, the number of worlds that could be protected-"

"The notion has occurred to us." And there was the resignation again. "But there are obstacles. Although the toxic sand is a normal byproduct of the terraforming process, on other planets it was only present in the initial stages, and never this destructive. Even so, the Ancestors never lived on worlds still undergoing terraforming. Based on what I have learned, I have come to believe that the Ancestors initiated an experiment on Polrusso."

Rodney had three multifaceted questions formed before he decided to wait for a change and listen to the full explanation.

Nabu presented his theory as skillfully as any Earthbound academic. "During the terraforming process, Polrusso was seeded with a massive dose of the caustic toxin, ensuring that it penetrated the biosphere on all levels. Then experimental subjects-humans-were introduced. All life forms must adapt to reach a stable relationship with their environment, and so the toxin was incorporated into the human genetic code. After five hundred generations, the effects are now rather apparent." There was a glimmer of a rueful smile in his voice. "While we may be a bit odd-looking, the abilities we possess must undoubtedly render the experiment a success. And it appears that the situation is stabilizing in newer generations. Not all among us are able to bear children, but the offspring who survive infancy are physically better suited to Polrusso's harsh environment. They are less deformed, more mentally adept, and able to cope with the sand from a young age. Our people are at last adjusting to this world, but I believe many more generations will pass before the process is complete."

"I still don't see why leaving to help other planets should present a problem." Rodney tried not to sound too eager to return to the topic at hand.

"The genetic alteration is ongoing. There are many thousands of my people now-far more than there are cliff-dwellers-most of whom have profound deformities. Some would call them gro tesque. The cliff-dwellers are terrified of us, as others would certainly be."

To Rodney's way of thinking, the whole thing smacked of lousy experimental design. Granted, `let's see what happens' was a fundamental tenet of science, but with human subjects? Any reputable university's ethics board would have a conniption. "With all their technology and knowledge, the Ancients couldn't have improved on this evolutionary process`? Say, speed it up to something short of ten thousand years?"

"In fact they did. Experiments were conducted on many other planets as well. Some humans have developed an immunity to the Wraith."

Had he never set foot on Hoff a year ago, Rodney would have been apoplectic with enthusiasm over that possibility. But he'd seen the tradeoff the Hoffans had had to make to achieve their immunity, and he was inclined to believe that there was no such thing as a free lunch.

"Evolution can be guided, just as humans crossbreed plants and animals to create healthier strains," Nabu continued. "This habitat in which we are seated is one such example: it is filled with many varieties of grass. Some are better suited to light, while others are stunted by the sun and prefer shade. This is the reason Atlas and Ea were forbidden to experiment on Polrusso with their exogenesis machine."

His mention of the names caused Rodney to sit forward. "You know about that, too? How-?"

"Although the cliff-dwellers cannot access the laboratory, I have the required gene," Nabu replied simply. "One of our people beams me into the lab near the Stargate for a time and then returns to beam me out again. Over the generations I have gathered information from the Ancestors' records."

It occurred to Rodney to wonder how Nabu had come by the ATA gene, but any theories he might construct on that front would wait for another time. "I don't suppose the sight of a Wraith Dart flying around does much to keep the cliff-dwellers calm."

"I have tried to reason with many of their Elders in the past, to convince them that their deformed offspring are not Wraithspawn. But their prejudices run deep. My cause is not aided by the fact that my white hair and the long scars on my face make me resemble a Wraith."

Rodney was beginning to suspect that seeing Nabu when they first met might have been as frightening as not seeing him. "So if the population is stabilizing in a genetic sense, the villages must be finding that more and more of their children are, ah, affected."

"That is true. In this latest generation, fully two thirds of live births in the villages have resulted in deformities or late-onset symptoms of madness. Even as we speak, my people are flying the Darts. They will return with many more children abandoned by the cliff-dweller villages."

It was hard to avoid some contempt for the cliff-dwellers. How could a bunch of otherwise civilized, cultured people turn every piece of evidence they'd been shown into some warped horror story? Wraithspawn? A hive ship at the bottom of the oceanic basin?

Abruptly, Rodney was gripped by a sense of panic. He pushed the chair back and rose to begin pacing, vaguely aware that Turpi was still at his side, supporting and guiding him. The cliff-dwellers believed that Nabu's home was a hive ship. He and his team had been all set to flood the place. "Where exactly on the planet are we located right now?" he demanded.

"You need not concern yourself," Nabu told him. "While the program to create and store water is complete, the oceans will not be released until the last of the toxin has broken down. Despite your belief that the machine need only be turned off, safety protocols would have prevented you from shutting down the shields."

Rodney stopped and swung around to face the direction he was relatively certain Nabu was sitting. "Yes, well, I appreciate that reassurance, but unfortunately that's not what I'm worried about. The idea I had pretty much determined to implement was to remove the ZPMs that hold back the water." He went on to describe the sequencing scheme to distribute the power load until the first shield failed, aware that the other man had become conspicuously silent.

At last, in a voice that held shock and not a little alarm, Nabu said, "I see." By the sound of it, he'd risen from his chair. "A resourceful plan… and quite achievable."

And that was the textbook definition of `backhanded compliment.' Rodney sensed a flash of worry from Turpi as well, and hoped that she understood his reasons. "We didn't know what was here, obviously, or we never would have…" Tentatively, he asked, "Can you evacuate your people?"

"We have many Darts, but most are a great distance away, patrolling the sand storms on the far side of the planet. Even so, we have several hundred thousand people now living in scattered communities throughout the basins."

Though the sheer numbers staggered Rodney, they made sense. The Wraith were being held at bay, and the percentage of `deformed' births was rising, so naturally the population would swell. That knowledge did nothing to quell the churning in his stomach at the idea of how many homes would be reduced to rubble at the bottom of a new ocean. The children's voices made their way into his thoughts again, confronting him with a harsh reminder of exactly what was at stake.

Turpi spoke up at last. "We can mentally communicate with enough of our people to advise them to flee. But it will take weeks of difficult travel on foot to reach safe grounds."

"The water itself is not the greatest threat, daughter." Nabu now sounded positively chilled. "The source of the caustic sand, the highest concentration of the toxin, lies in the massive mountain chains that cross the planet, far away from the areas where the water is stored. The sand storms result from the slow erosion by the ceaseless winds. Once exposed to rain, however, the mountains will virtually dissolve within a short space of time. In water, the toxin becomes many times more corrosive-and many times more deadly."

Acid rain to the nth degree, Rodney realized, his throat con stricting painfully. All bodies of water, and the precipitation itself, would be infinitely deadlier than the dry sand. When I set out to do something, I really do it all the way.

"The water must not be released." Nabu's voice took on a note of what Rodney considered to be extremely warranted urgency. "If it is, nothing on this world will survive."