Exogenesis

Chapter Six

"This is what ten thousand years of terraforming buys you, huh?" Sheppard stepped out of the jumper. "A dark and stormy planet."

"It's not dark," said Ronon, squinting against the bright sunlight. He took a few steps away from the jumper and looked around.

"And I doubt there's been a storm here, ever." McKay was smearing some sort of creamy white gunk across his neck and ears.

"Hey, I'm the guy who has to submit the reports," retorted the Colonel. "Assuming I even get the chance to write this up, at least let me make it a little less boring than `We came, and we saw nothing but sand and sky. "'

For the first time since they'd boarded the jumper back on Atlantis, Dr. Beckett spoke up from the rear. "I'm told that SG- l's reports are noted for their brevity." He accepted the tube of gunk from McKay and began rubbing it across his face.

"I don't get it," Sheppard admitted, eyeing the barren landscape. "This doesn't look like the kind of place you'd build by design."

"Terraforming must have failed," Ronon ventured. An aerial reconnaissance pass could have told them more, but McKay had wanted to land the moment they'd exited the Stargate, babbling something about `it' being right here.

"Brilliant deduction, Watson," muttered the scientist, nose now buried in his handheld scanner.

Ronon wondered what kind of insult `Watson' was supposed to be. If McKay had planned to continue his derogatory remarks, he was interrupted by a pointed query from Sheppard. "Rodney? We're on something of a time limit here."

"What did you expect? A ZPM to just pop up from the ground and say, `Take me to your leader?' I'm still determining its exact location."

Sheppard used the jumper's remote to close the hatch and activate the cloak. The ship vanished from view but left an obvious indentation in the soft sand. "If a ZPM is still giving off power readings, why did the terraforming fail?"

"Could have been any number of factors" McKay took a few steps toward the nearest dune. "As much as we make them out to be Holy Grails, ZPMs are simply power sources, nothing more. Whatever method the Ancients used to carry out their landscaping projects, it undoubtedly involved some form of computer, which itself may have malfunctioned or even been tampered with by Atlas and Ea in preparation for experimenting with their exogenesis machine"

Three gazes slid toward Beckett, who looked doubtful. "I don't know," he confessed. "It might explain Ea's deep reservations. But I can't be sure "

McKay ran his scanner across the face of the dune. "There's definitely some sort of Ancient structure beneath this." When he started up the sandy slope, Sheppard moved to take the lead. By unspoken agreement, Ronon waited until Beckett followed the others and then brought up the rear.

"The ZPM is about five kilometers away." McKay managed to operate his equipment while negotiating the shifting sands, no small feat for a man who often got distracted enough to walk into tables.

"In which direction?" pressed the Colonel.

Sucking in a lungful of air and squinting against the sun, McKay declared, "Straight down."

"Say what?" Sheppard turned to stare at the scientist.

"Just…hang on." His breathing became more labored as they continued to climb.

"Maybe it didn't fail," Ronon suggested. "Maybe it was never switched on."

"It was." Beckett paused to pull his cap down, shading his eyes from the worst of the glare.

Ronon glanced ahead, wary. He knew the doctor was fully himself again, but the way the man's focus drifted each time he remembered something from Ea was just. .not right.

"If you'd like some evidence to go along with that sixth sense," McKay panted, "look no further." He waved his scanner back in the direction they had come from. "Underneath that dune sea is a reservoir with enough water to fill"-he reached the top of the sand ridge and his eyes widened-"that."

The Colonel, several steps in from of him, had already let out a long whistle. "Man, it's like standing on Santa Monica Beach and looking out over the Pacific-except that someone pulled the plug."

"Or, more precisely, hasn't opened the tap yet," McKay corrected, wiping the sweat from his face with his sleeve. "Personally, I'd describe it more as standing on the edge of a vastly scaled-up version of Monument Valley."

Ronon had never given much thought to the landscape of any planet except insofar as he could use it to his tactical advantage. This, however, was a first. He didn't have any idea what a Santa Monica beach or a monument valley was, but it looked to him as though a whole chunk of the planet had been carved out, down to a depth of-

"Five kilometers," McKay declared, lifting his scanner in triumph. "Three miles for the metrically challenged, although the distance varies, of course, given the terrain." He pointed to a couple of dark rents in the ground several miles-or kilometers-below.

Although it made no sense to Ronon why two people from the same planet used different forms of measurement, he had quickly adapted his thinking to accommodate the inconsistency.

"That would explain the aquifer," McKay continued. "We're currently standing on the edge of the continental shelf, overlooking what will one day be an ocean."

"What's an aquifer?" Ronon wondered. He wasn't sure what a continental shelf was, either, but one thing at a time.

"Water that's retained underground. Actually, that's a bit over simplified, so maybe `reservoir' would be a more accurate term. In any case, the terraforming process apparently excavated the surface for the necessary elements to create a breathable atmosphere and a substantial ocean, and dumped the leftovers" — McKay turned and pointed back the way they had come-"there."

Ronon pivoted around. From their elevated vantage point, he could now make out a chain of mountains in the distance.

The only one among the group who didn't express any surprise was Beckett. "As far as I can understand," he said, "there should be four or five of these massive subterranean oceans abutting equally large excavations."

"Why keep the water underground?" the Colonel asked.

"They must have planned to release it all at once." McKay pulled off his boot and poured out a stream of sand. "And then, voila, instant hydrology cycle. It'd be staggeringly violent at first, massive storms and floods and the like, and the underground reservoirs would probably collapse as they're emptied. At the risk of repeating myself-which, I admit, seems necessary all too often-the dune sea would be inundated, thus becoming a continental shelf"

"What about the 'gate?" Ronon looked back down at the ring, all but dwarfed by the sheer scale of the dunes.

"It and the Ancient structure are sitting on a plug of solid basalt." McKay poked at the scanner's screen. "It would undoubtedly become an island, while the coastline of the mainland would be somewhere closer to those mountains."

"So we have a ZPM somewhere down there," Sheppard said, staring out over the cliff. "That's good to know, but finding the exogenesis machine is our first priority."

"And for that," McKay said, tapping his foot ineffectually on the apex of the dune, "we need to access this Ancient structure"

Ronon strained to look in all directions. "Don't see any buildings, Ancient or otherwise. Maybe there's another way in through the cliffs?"

"Do I try to do your job for you?" McKay snapped.

"It was just an idea." Ronon would have said more, but the Colonel caught his eye.

"And a good one, at that." A faint smile crossed Beckett's face. "Try looking over the edge, Rodney."

For a few seconds, no one said anything, until McKay adjusted his scanner and frowned. "Huh."

"Care to elaborate?" Sheppard watched him intently.

McKay visibly brushed offhis surprise at having been shown up. "There are several thousand life signs-human life signs-about two hundred meters to the left and fifty meters below us."

Not needing any further invitation, Ronon started down the dune, Sheppard right behind.

"Wait up-can't we fly there?" McKay whined.

"Two hundred meters?" Even Beckett sounded disbelieving.

"Plus the two hundred we've had to walk up this hill, then fifty meters down and back up again. And as you pointed out, time is a factor here."

"Then we'll make it a brisk walk," the Colonel called over his shoulder.

The narrow patch of ground at the bottom of the dune was more solid underfoot. A fine, crystalline substance coated the exposed surface. Taking a sample on his finger, Ronon tasted it and spat. "Salt." He cautiously made his way to the edge of the vertical face.

"Base jumper's paradise," Sheppard said, peering over with him. "Three miles straight down, huh? Sounds about right."

Looking left, Ronon couldn't see much because they were near a headland. To their right, the line of cliffs curved in and then out again until reaching another headland several miles away. "Nothing except rock." Heights didn't bother him, and he knew that as a pilot, Sheppard was equally unaffected, but they both were careful when easing back from the brittle precipice.

"This way." McKay turned left, unwrapping a food bar as he walked. "My advice is to keep well back from the edge. I wouldn't guarantee that the ground away from the basalt plug is entirely stable."

"Okay, everyone." Sheppard moved out ahead of him. "Just for a change, let's try not aggravating the locals."

Around a mouthful of food, McKay said, "I for one would be happy not having the Wraith popping out from behind every tree-ow!" Clutching at his jaw, the scientist shot a laser-edged glare at the offending power bar. "Are there nut shells in these things? That's just flat-out negligent."

"A tree would be nice right now." The Colonel put on a pair of sunglasses. "Maybe even a few decorative bushes here and there. Give us a little cover."

"God, I think I chipped a tooth." Still holding his jaw, McKay exchanged one scanner for another. "Has anyone noticed that the humidity around here is approximately zero? My eyeballs are already drying out."

Ronon didn't need McKay's instruments to tell him. The complete lack of moisture in the air was impossible to ignore. It wasn't all that hot, but the cloudless sky did nothing to soften the sun. Beckett tipped his head back and downed half his canteen, while McKay fumbled in his pack for something called eye drops.

Why anyone would want to drop something in their eyes was a mystery to Ronon, but he'd given up trying to understand the scientist's peculiar physical shortcomings.

"Well, lookee here." Sheppard increased his pace.

The sight that came into view was a total contrast to the desert. Fifty yards, or meters-couldn't they just pick one? — down from the top of the cliff, an entire village had been carved out of the pale stone. Below the dwellings was an escarpment divided into well-cultivated terraces and planted with what looked like grain and vegetable crops, even some fruit trees in the near distance.

"How are those able to grow?" Ronon wondered. Until now, he hadn't seen so much as a lichen.

"These people must be tapping into the water in the reservoirs, most likely via wells and subterranean irrigation systems" McKay had pulled a pair of binoculars from his pack and was examining the village. "The structures are built right into the cliff. They're similar to those once used by a group of humans on Earth. Somewhere in the American Southwest, I think-"

"The Anasazi," Sheppard supplied, lowering his own viewing device. "Doesn't look like anybody's home right now. Are you sure about those life signs, McKay?"

Checking his handheld unit again, McKay announced, "Except for one in that direction"-he motioned towards the dunes-"they're mostly all inside."

That had been bothering Ronon-the utter stillness of the place. It was unnerving, even from a distance. Fingering his weapon, he muttered, "Doesn't feel right."

McKay looked at him askance. "You spent seven years constantly looking over your shoulder for Wraith. What would feel right to you?"

"No, I hear you, Ronon." The Colonel's bearing changed slightly, his grip on his weapon also more secure. "Is it me, or has the wind picked up?"

With instincts born from seven years of running, Ronon turned to look behind them. The monochrome sky was now broken by a darker smudge on the horizon. Didn't look like weapons were going to be much use this time. "It's probably not you."

Glancing back, Sheppard lifted his binoculars again, and his face went slack. "Sandstorm. Not good."

"I, ah, take it we're heading back to the jumper?" Beckett's voice wavered, and he looked uncertain, as if another tattered memory was hovering just outside his reach.

The Colonel appeared to be sizing up their position and the speed of the storm. "No time. The sand'll get to it before we could." An assessment Ronon agreed with.

"And you're basing that on something more scientific than your gut instinct, right?" McKay demanded.

"Are you really questioning my qualifications for desert ops?" Not waiting for a response, Sheppard turned back toward the cliffdwellings. "Whoever lives there must have seen this coming and taken shelter. It's closer than the jumper, so let's get down there "

They hurried along the cliff searching for a place to descend, breaking into a jog when a strong wind gust nearly toppled McKay. Without comment, Ronon took the scientist's overloaded pack and slung it across his own shoulder, allowing them to move faster. He'd been in a sandstorm before and, based on the size of the rust-colored cloud bearing down on them, this was going to be… uncomfortable.

Ronon knew that he could have made it back to the 'gate if he'd left the moment they'd spotted the storm. Sheppard would probably have made it, too, but neither McKay nor Beckett was in the same physical shape. These people had taken some getting used to, but they'd accepted him as a part of their team, and he'd stand by them.

Sheppard threw down his pack and hunted inside for rope. "I'll find us an anchor point."

Ronon narrowed his eyes against the expected airborne grit and sized up the cloud. It was hundreds of meters high and curled over at the top like a breaking wave. "Guess you were right about the dark and stormy part."

If they couldn't find a way down the cliff face, they were better off digging in well back from the edge, because visibility would soon be reduced to nothing.

A hiss drew his attention back to Sheppard, who'd jerked his hand back from the pack. Before Ronon could question, he felt a sting against his cheek.

"Ow! What the hell?" McKay instinctively ducked.

Squinting against the gusts, Ronon took a good look at the approaching storm. What he had at first assumed were darker patches in the cloud in fact had a distinctly reddish hue. "I don't think that's just sand."

"Cover as much of your skin as possible!" Beckett pulled the sleeves of his jacket down over his hands, raising his voice over the wind. "There must be something caustic in the dust."

Sheppard was still struggling with the rope, while the swirling clouds grew thicker around them. "There's nothing I can secure the rope to," he yelled. "I'm gonna try and anchor myself so you guys can climb down."

"Are you brain-dead?" McKay shouted back. "Do you have to try to kill yourself every damn day?"

"You got a better idea?"

Ronon pulled the collar of his coat up to shield his face. He didn't need to see his surroundings to know that there was no way out of this. On one side they faced a sheer drop of a hundred meters to the village, and on the other a deadly storm that was already starting to envelop them. Any action, even the Colonel's intended sacrifice, would come too late.

The one emotion Ronon allowed himself was anger. This was an utterly pointless way to die.

After Jumper One had vanished through the 'gate, Elizabeth barely found time to walk across the control room to her office before being called back.

"Dr. Anane has reestablished contact," the tech informed her. "He's managed to set up a video link."

"Patch it through," she said immediately, turning to the screen.

The picture was dimly lit and peppered by static, but Kwesi looked none the worse for wear. So far.

"Dr. Weir," he greeted. "With luck I will be able to keep this link operating."

"Good work. Halling, hello " The tall Athosian stood to the engineer's left, looking intently into the camera. "Kwesi, what can you tell us?"

"The wind has decreased somewhat," Kwesi reported, "and the most developed cloud mass is currently moving away from us, further up into the mountains. Here, let me show you." He moved out of the camera's view, speaking as he went. "I cannot be certain it will continue in that direction, though, as it is close to sunset and we are losing the light."

The image jerked before refocusing on the familiar landscape behind the Athosian camp-except that the mountains were now crowded by the blackest, fastest moving clouds that Elizabeth had ever seen. Even through the narrow camera lens, the storm looked massive and quite terrifying. "Is the camp secure for the moment?"

"For the moment, yes," Kwesi replied, facing the camera once more. "My concern is the possibility of flash floods. Although the camp is situated well above the river, the cloud mass indicates that the mountains are receiving an extraordinary volume of rain."

"Halling, please gather your people and take them to higher ground," Elizabeth said. "This storm-it isn't natural, and we can't predict its course or its consequences."

Kwesi looked off-camera and nodded. "There is a sheltered position in a narrow gorge above the camp."

The Athosian stepped back into view again, his reserved demeanor clearly masking deep concern. "I see. May I speak to Teyla, Dr. Weir?"

"Teyla is on her way to you, bringing several jumpers to evacuate the Athosian settlement."

"Once again, we are grateful for your assistance." Halling's expression became difficult to read. The news of his leader's return seemed to placate him, but it hadn't diminished the magnitude of the danger. "May I ask why you believe that this is not a natural event?"

In Atlantis's control room, out of the camera's view, Colonel Caldwell gave her a warning glance. Elizabeth hesitated, conflicted. She certainly didn't think it prudent to explain that this storm was only just the beginning. The Athosians' rather pious view of Atlantis as the home of the Ancients might feed tales of angry spirits, first prompted by their encounter with an energy creature shortly after their arrival. At the same time, she felt that, too often in the past, she'd had to override Halling's concerns in favor of her own judgment. He, and his people, deserved more than a brush-off response.

"An Ancient device designed to terraform planets has been inadvertently triggered," she told him, keeping the explanation vague but truthful. "We're not entirely certain, but we believe that the storms will be far in excess of what we have ever experienced."

Frowning, Hailing glanced at Kwesi before asking, "Have you no way of stopping the device?"

"None that we've been able to determine," Elizabeth admitted. "However, Colonel Sheppard has taken a team off-world in the hope of recovering a second machine we believe should counteract the effects of the first."

There was a brief, strained pause, during which the distance between their two cultures seemed as wide as it had ever been. Then, with a bow of his head, Hailing said, "Again, thank you for sending aid. I must go tell my people to prepare for the evacuation."

Watching the Athosian leave, Kwesi finally allowed Elizabeth to see his unbridled alarm. "A terraforming device?"

Elizabeth made a deliberate effort to maintain her composure, feeling like it was all she could do to manage the situation. With a nod, she asked, "Realistically, how feasible is a short-notice evacuation?"

"The main camp, where I have been working, is relatively safe for the time being. There are people at the mountain camp, however, and many more who are out hunting. They are several hours' walk from either camp. Young Jinto is one of those who are away."

Halling's only son. Elizabeth closed her eyes. As seemed so often to be the case, the nightmare was compounding.

"I worry about how long the jumpers will be able to stay in the air," Kwesi continued, holding his hand above the lens of the camera in a mostly futile attempt to keep it clear of rain. "There may not be time to reach all the Athosians. If a machine is creating this weather, it will only continue to worsen, will it not?"

"Not necessarily," she replied. "We're not entirely certain how the machine was programmed."

Optimism was a required element of diplomacy. Kwesi's expression suggested that it was less useful in his line of work. The engineer had signed on to the Atlantis expedition fully aware of the unknown and potentially lethal risks involved. This was most assuredly an unknown, and she owed him the truth. "We have no way of predicting what's going to happen," she conceded. "However, I am confident that Colonel Sheppard and his team will recover the second device."

While she spoke, a Marine came into the control room and approached Colonel Caldwell. "Sir, we've hit a snag with the science teams. There are some disagreements about priorities in the evacuation procedures."

Kwesi's eyes went wide. "You are evacuating Atlantis?"

"We're exploring the possibility, as a precautionary measure only." On the edge of the screen, Elizabeth saw Halling walking back into the camera's range. Behind her, she heard several of her scientists coming into the room, already vocalizing their disputes. The Athosians couldn't be allowed to see this. Panic on the mainland was the last thing this situation needed. "Kwesi, we'll check in on an hourly schedule. Thank you for your efforts."

She ended the connection, granting herself a split second to feel the additional guilt of cutting him off before hardening her nerves for her role as personnel arbiter.

"Dr. Weir, the procedures have been completely shot to hell," Dr. Simpson protested, her voice carrying over the others. "By the book, all essential equipment from the labs should have been packed up by now. Instead, we're nowhere close, because half the Marines designated to assist are occupied with stripping the Daedalus and moving what they claim is its essential equipment to the Alpha site."

At Elizabeth's questioning look, Caldwell spread his hands. "It has to be done," he said simply. "Atlantis's evacuation procedures didn't take the Daedalus into account, and I'm sure you appreciate how critical much of her technology and supplies are."

Elizabeth couldn't fault his logic. The ripples caused by the recent loss of the Prometheus had reached the Pegasus Galaxy, and so it was understandable that his priority was to preserve as much as possible from her sister ship.

"And we can't consolidate our equipment because Dr. Zelenka is refusing to allow prioritized computers to be removed while he's still working on his shield simulations." Eyes flashing in frustration, Simpson snapped, "This isn't an evacuation. It's a free-forall!"

So their carefully crafted procedures, developed after last year's storm, were being rapidly defeated by yet another unexpected situation. Elizabeth fought the urge to kick something. Would any circumstance this expedition faced ever be predictable enough for a response plan?

"I thought Zelenka was assisting Hermiod with the hyperdrive." Caldwell's brows knitted.

"Dr. Zelenka thinks he can reduce the power needs for the shield, Colonel," Elizabeth replied. "He may be able to buy us more time before we have to abandon the city. He's also working on optimizing the program to decode the information Rodney downloaded from Atlas's stasis pod."

"Without a functioning hyperdrive we run the risk of marooning the entire group on the Alpha site, with no way back to Earth."

As if that thought hadn't occurred to her! Bristling slightly, she countered, "Any information that Dr. Zelenka can glean from the Ancient who designed this machine could be crucial to saving Atlantis. And if that's not possible, then configuring the city shield to operate at full strength without the ZPM will allow us all to leave here with both the crystal needed to dial Earth and the ZPM to power the 'gate on the Alpha site "

Caldwell's expression darkened, ready to argue his position further, but from within the pack of scientists, someone spoke up. "Ah… Hermiod believes that repairs will go faster if he's allowed to work alone and uninterrupted."

Elizabeth had never been entirely comfortable around Caldwell. In hindsight, that unsettled feeling might be explained by his having been an unwitting hostage to a Goa'uld. However, in the few short weeks since he had been liberated from the parasitic creature, she had begun to think of the Daedalus's commander as a pragmatist. That judgment was borne out since, to his credit, Caldwell appeared willing to adjust his views when presented with a convincing argument. "All right," he said. "What do we need right now?"

The scientists, unfortunately, were less pragmatic, for they immediately interpreted the Colonel's response as an opportunity to petition for their individual needs. Five voices responded simultaneously, each pressing for wildly different actions. Lab-coated arms gesticulated as each determinedly shouted down the others. Noise levels in the control room quickly assumed the volume of a barroom brawl.

Elizabeth braced her hands on either side of the nearest console and drew in a steadying breath before calling for everyone to calm down. When that didn't work, Caldwell did the same in an even louder voice. Unaccustomed to taking orders from the military, the scientists ignored him and, if anything, became even more animated and vocal.

Atlantis suddenly resembled a leaky rowboat, springing holes faster than Elizabeth could block them, while the passengers squabbled over whose baggage just had to be saved. Bringing a hand to the bridge of her nose, she closed her eyes and fervently hoped that John's team was faring better on Polrusso.