Exogenesis

Chapter Twenty-three

Walking along a hallway of the city, Elizabeth was struck by how wonderfully, blissfully normal everything felt. She'd been back for most of a day already, but the feeling had yet to dissipate. Its hyperdrive at last operational, the Daedalus had started hailing Atlantis as soon as it reached a safe distance from the planet. After a long period of excruciating silence, the desolate vision of a flat gray world was pushed aside by a tiny pinprick of blue-which expanded at a speed she'd found difficult to believe, dissipating the nanite horror. It took some time to get a radio signal through the interference, but then came the welcome voices of John and Rodney, inviting the ship to return home. Yes indeed, it was home.

They'd made good on her vow to Ea, defending Atlantis with everything that they had. It was their home, a birthright bequeathed upon them by the Ancients who had fled to Earth so very long ago. She needed only to look around at the people eagerly returning to their duties to confirm that fact.

Reinstalling the Stargate proved almost as simple as removing it, in spite of Rodney's distrustful micromanaging. Before long, the displaced expedition members were flowing back through the 'gate from the Alpha site. Their expressions of elated relief surely mirrored the one she'd worn when the Daedalus had settled onto its customary pier.

Now they had to deal with the fallout. The sand-blasted control room equipment had turned out to be the worst casualty, but she'd been assured that it would be functional again within the week. The city had sustained remarkably little structural damage, thanks to the shield and stabilizers, so the majority of the expedition personnel were currently engaged in reorganizing their hastily evacuated equipment. A large contingent had already traveled to the mainland with the Athosians to assess their rebuilding needs.

The Polrusso machine had reversed the effects of the nanites, leaving the Athosian settlement in its post-storm state. Teyla had been in regular contact from the mainland and believed that some of her people's possessions could be salvaged from the mudslide. Meeting the half-Ancient Nabu, who had stayed in the city through the return of the evacuees, had given many of the Athosians some reassurance that the Ancestors had not condemned them for settling on Atlantis. There was a lot of work ahead, but it was in no way an insurmountable task.

Then there was the other, more personal fallout. Elizabeth could no longer push aside the rift between her and her military commander. Yes, he'd done his part, and more, in saving the world once again. That changed nothing about his defiance of her authority in returning to Polrusso to search for Rodney. She couldn't ignore that, and she suspected he couldn't, either.

Might as well get this over with. She passed her hand over the sensor that would signal her presence outside the door to his quarters. "Colonel, can I have a word?"

There was no acknowledgment from within, but the door slid open. Past the bare walls and the packed bags sitting patiently by the desk, she could see him standing at the window.

"You can unpack now, you know," she began tentatively. "We lifted the evacuation order-did you miss the memo?"

Turning partially toward her, John raised an eyebrow, apparently not buying her weak attempt at humor. "Figured it'd be more efficient to leave `em packed if I'm headed back to Earth on the Daedalus."

A cold sensation prickled at the back of her neck. She wasn't sure how she'd expected this conversation to go, but it was already threatening to run off the rails. "Are you resigning?"

He offered a smirk and a minute shake of his head. "That would deprive the Air Force of the pleasure of firing my ass, which is tempting, but no. I made my choice, and I'll accept the consequences. I'm just assuming the consequences are likely to involve a disciplinary hearing."

"I'm not familiar with-"

"Don't worry. I'm familiar enough with it for the both of us." John's expression was carefully controlled, but she knew him too well to let the years-old ache escape her notice. "Based on previous experience, things tend to end badly when you disobey a direct order from a superior officer."

Taking a steady breath, Elizabeth reasserted herself. "True, but that isn't what you did, is it?" At his blink of confusion, she elaborated. "The order not to go after Rodney was mine, not Caldwell's. One could claim that he'd implied such an order by confining you to the infirmary, but as I understand the Uniform Code of Military Justice, an order must be clearly communicated to be considered lawful. His wasn't, and under military regulations, mine can't officially be an order."

Some tiny part of her took pride in catching him off-guard. John's features seemed to transition rapidly from bewilderment through relief to reluctant appreciation. "You were feeding me a line a minute ago, weren't you? That whole `I'm not familiar' thing-that was a line."

"I'm a quick study." She took another step forward. "There won't be a hearing. Colonel Caldwell and I have agreed to jointly submit a formal reprimand to your file, and I expect General Landry to accept it as written." A formal reprimand carried a surprising amount of weight, but she suspected that his career after Atlantis hardly figured into his thinking these days.

"Thank you," he said quietly, confirming her assessment.

She acknowledged him with a nod. "That takes care of the red tape. I'm more concerned about addressing the conflict between the two of us. If this had been the first time…" But it wasn't, and they couldn't very well pretend that he hadn't defied her during the nanovirus outbreak.

As if remembering, John flinched. "As cliched as it sounds, this really wasn't personal. I do trust you, and I understood your position. I just couldn't live with it."

"And you can live with your subordinates seeing whatever chain of command we've cobbled together break down? What happens if one of the Marines someday decides that he can't live with an order of yours?"

"Never happen. They're better officers than I am."

"That's not funny, John "

"Funny is the last thing I'd call it, Elizabeth." His eyes seemed to absorb the dim light, reflecting none back. "Do you think I want to be like this? I wouldn't have stayed in the military if I thought all rank and authority was crap. I believe in my oath and in our mission. I swear I do. But occasionally there are times when I can't ignore my conscience and still be the person I want to be. And it leads to days like this. I hate that, but there it is."

And the hell of it was that if he had obeyed, he wouldn't have been the person she wanted him to be, either. "So where does that leave us?" she finally asked.

"Same as before, I guess. I'll keep doing my job as long as you're willing to put up with me."

"I think I can handle that. But understand, John, that this cannot keep happening."

He sighed. "I know. And I'm sorry. I don't regret doing it, but I am sorry for doing this to you."

"I appreciate that." Elizabeth took a step toward the door.

"Listen, Elizabeth-"

Her motion halted, she looked at him expectantly.

"What you almost had to do, at the Alpha site…" John raised his gaze to meet hers. "I just want you to know that I respect the hell out of you for it."

Surprised, Elizabeth tried to demur. "It wasn't as if we had very many choices."

"That doesn't change the fact that you were prepared to stay behind in order to see everyone else safely through to Earth. That kind of thing isn't what you signed up for."

"Nothing about this expedition is exactly what any of us signed up for. We all do what we have to in order to protect Atlantis and each other. I'm no different from anyone else."

He watched her carefully for a moment. "Yeah," he said finally. "I think that's what I respect most "

It was as personal a statement as she'd ever heard him make, and it warmed her. "Thank you," she said quietly. "Does Rodney know what you risked to go after him?"

"Not unless Beckett told him about me leapfrogging him on the list of most annoying infirmary patients."

"He should know."

"He's got enough to deal with right now." The pilot gave a small shrug, the motion deceptively casual. "Like you said. We do what we have to."

And when it came down to it that was all she could ask of him, of anyone. Of herself, even. "I'm glad you're all right."

She meant it sincerely, and the way his eyes softened ever so slightly told her that he believed her. "Thanks."

Repairs to the city kept Rodney sufficiently distracted from thoughts of his experience on Polrusso for some time. Or so he'd thought. When a technician mistakenly rerouted power away from the main lab for the third time, sending the science staff into darkness and data loss yet again, he only shook his head and switched over to his battery-boosted laptop.

The lights were soon restored, and the grumbling from the rest of the group faded away after only a few seconds. Belatedly, Rodney glanced up to find all eyes on him. "What?" he asked. "We don't exactly have fuse boxes here, people."

Radek sighed. "That is it. Everyone out." When a few people hesitated, he snapped his fingers. "Ted'.' Now! All of you have projects elsewhere. Go!"

Obligingly, the scientists cleared out. Rodney was too busy trying to figure out when they'd started listening to Radek to get up from his stool. Apparently that had been part of the mad Czech's master plan.

Plunking himself down on the stool opposite, Radek pushed his glasses up over the bridge of his nose and considered him with an earnest gaze. "Rodney, this cannot go on. Your treatment of the staff is beginning to cause concern."

"Excuse me? I've been perfectly civil."

"That is my point," Radek replied evenly. "Two weeks ago you would have torn someone's head off after the second power interruption. Now you accept a third without comment? It is unusual, and usual is what people want most at times such as these."

A burst of irritation flared in Rodney's chest. "Well, gosh, I'm sorry to bother anyone else with my trauma. I'll do my best to snap back to my normal unbearable self for the good of the expedition."

"Rodney, you are still missing my point. You are not bothering anyone. You are not talking, and I think perhaps that is the problem."

That was unexpected. "Are you offering to be my Dear Abby, Radek? Listen to my tale of woe? Sorry to disillusion you, but there's not much to tell. Boy meets girl, boy somehow fails to lose girl despite acting like a paranoid jackass, girl saves entire planet and takes off for a higher plane of existence. Pretty common tale."

Radek, damn him, wasn't taking the hint. "You are happy that she was able to Ascend, are you not?"

Good question. Painfully perceptive. It was an incredibly complex proposition to mourn someone who wasn't technically dead. Certainly Turpi must be content with her new status, so when it came down to it, was he depressed on her behalf or only his own? "Of course I am. How self-absorbed do I look? Do not answer that," Rodney snapped preemptively, annoyed at himself for all but inviting the predictable retort. More evidence that he was off his stride. "It's not like I was expecting some kind of storybook ending out of the whole thing, so let's not make it out to be more than it was." He'd learned long ago that `happily ever after' was every bit the myth it seemed. What had he expected, then?

"She cared very much for you," said Radek. "This was obvious."

And that was the heart of the issue, wasn't it? She'd seen into him, seen everything that made him who he was, and she'd still cared. Try as he might, he couldn't fit that into his established view of the universe.

His colleague angled his head and posed a question. "Why did you come to Atlantis?"

Thrown, Rodney just looked at Radek for a moment. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Humor me, for once in your life. Why did you join the expedition?"

"For the same reasons as anyone else. Because they needed brains. Because I'd have been a fool to pass up the chance. Because I'm not worth anything if I'm not learning, and the magnitude of what we could learn from this place is essentially limitless. And oh, let's not forget the fact that there are a hell of a lot of threats out there, some of which we're in a unique position to do something about. Is that enough?"

In the ensuing pause, he realized that most of that little diatribe did sound fairly redeeming. Thankfully, Radek didn't do anything awkward or patronizing like pat him on the shoulder. He simply stood up and gathered the equipment he'd been using. "Brood longer if you like. But finish up by meal time. It is `Hurray, We Cheated Death Again' Night in the mess"

That generally meant one thing. "Ice cream?"

"I am told there may be hot fudge"

Precisely where had they been hoarding that? "In that case, go throw yourself in front of the teeming masses to ensure that they don't finish it all before I get there. It's the least you can do after I handed you the solution to the shield power problem."

Halfway to the door, Radek stopped. "Handed? Hardly."

"I laid out every detail over the radio!" Not strictly true, but Rodney figured it was close enough for government work.

"Which would have been helpful if transmission had not been garbled to the point of being unrecognizable. As it was, I developed the solution independently."

"Oh, that's a likely story. One giant step backward for intellectual property rights. Did you forget who developed the original theory last year?"

"It was a most productive collaboration." Ignoring Rodney's indignant protest, Radek continued walking, soon disappearing into the corridor. "I believe each of us is man enough to acknowledge assistance-and get his own ice cream."

When the Czech had gone, Rodney leaned forward and rested his chin on folded arms. He was better for having known Turpi, for every minute he'd spent with her. He was certain of that. If there was a distinct hole in his consciousness now that her presence was gone, he'd figure out how to live with it. There wasn't anyone else, anywhere, who had the capacity to fill it, so he wouldn't bother looking. Those memories, those ghost sensations would inevitably fade as the days passed.

He needed that distance and dreaded it at the same time.

He suddenly found himself wishing for a piano. No sense of the art, his teacher had said so long ago. He could still see the first page of Beethoven's " Pathetique" as if it were right in front of him. Technically gifted, but emotionless. Somehow he felt sure that the emotion wouldn't escape him now.

The ceremony was small. Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard had put the word out that all personnel were welcome but by no means required to attend. It didn't surprise Carson that, apart from senior staff, few people had shown up. For the majority of the expedition, who had spent the past few days essentially running for their lives, it would no doubt be difficult to honor the memory of those who'd planned to wipe out the inhabitants of an entire galaxy.

Some of the expedition members felt the bonds more strongly, of course. Carson wondered if today's event was partially for his benefit. Either way, he appreciated it. Once the crisis had passed, with the help of Radek's transcription of the voice recordings in Ea and Atlas's jumper, he'd been able to better organize and interpret the memories he still retained from Ea.

She'd harbored immense guilt: on behalf of Atlas, for his defiant experiment; her people as a whole, for their disregard of the humans on Polrusso; and even herself, for being willing to sacrifice an entire galaxy to what she perceived as the greater good. In many ways Ea had been unlike anyAncient they'd yet encountered. She'd had the supposed flaw of deep compassion, the supposed weakness of fearing death, and intense emotions that she either could not or would not conceal. All of these were attributes Carson understood well. In spite of her last desperate act, he couldn't vilify her.

Out on the pier, Nabu stood with Elizabeth and Rodney. The Polrusson had decided to attend the ceremony before returning home, and Carson realized that this was for him as much as anyone. As Atlas and Ea's grandson, Nabu bore their tragically conflicted legacy.

Ronon had gone to the mainland to assist Teyla and her people, so the only person missing from their eclectic group was-

— not in fact missing at all. Colonel Sheppard approached from another entrance, his polished shoes clicking on the pier. Rodney eyed him as if he were wearing a Hawaiian shirt. "I thought you didn't like that outfit."

Only Rodney McKay could refer to a military dress uniform as an`outfit.'

"I don't like it because the brass, in their infinite wisdom, sent us Class As specifically for funerals and promotions, and we have more of one than the other. This is a funeral." Sheppard's sidelong glance at Elizabeth suggested that there was something more to it than that. A subtle sign, perhaps, that he was rededicated to his duties after their earlier clash. Carson further suspected that the man was at least a little relieved to still have those silver oak leaves and, more to the point, those silver wings.

"Well, I suppose we should get started." Elizabeth moved closer to the stasis pod that still held Atlas's body. Eulogizing these Ancients seemed a complicated task, and Carson didn't envy her. Before long, however, his mind strayed back to Nabu's people. As much as the scientist in him wanted to collect DNA from as many of them as he could, the genetic variations that accounted for their wide-ranging abilities were almost certainly far too complex for him to isolate. The experiment encompassed an entire planet and thousands of years. He couldn't hope to find all the answers in a day.

Nabu had provided a blood sample himself, along with some of his impressions of the Ancient research, but had suggested kindly that Polrusso be left alone for a time, to facilitate the reintegration of his people with the cliff-dwellers. No one had tried to convince him otherwise, because no one believed he was wrong.

As with anything, in medicine or elsewhere, there was no instant solution to be had. Polrusson genetics were an area worthy of study, but one that was to be handled with care, like so much of what they'd discovered out here.

"We have a common goal with Atlas and Ea," Elizabeth was saying. "To see the end of the Wraith threat in this galaxy and others. Our methods may differ, but as humans and descendants of the Ancients we are committed to that aim, and we pledge to them that we will not fail."

Carson thought about the retrovirus research that had monopolized so much of his time in recent weeks. Another area of study that held promise as well as uncertainty. Leaving this galaxy to the Wraith was not an option. He hadn't come here to fight, but if it meant saving lives, then fight he would, in whatever way he could.

The stasis pod was lowered into the water, returning Atlas's body to the deep to rest forever with his beloved wife. While his colleagues stood by respectfully, Carson wondered if the departed Ancients knew-or cared-about the events that had transpired over the past few days. Ea deserved to know that the people she'd felt such remorse at abandoning had begun to discover the birthright left to them. If she could somehow see that, he believed that she might, at last, be at peace.