Secrets

Chapter Sixteen The Skies of Sateda

It was still a long walk from the Stargate to the City Museum, even though the Satedans had cleared a better path through the damaged streets since the last time Radek had been there. It was a pleasant day, clear and warm, and after the endless cold of Atlantis’s new world, it was a relief to be able to open his jacket and enjoy the sunshine. Ronon had exchanged his long-sleeved shirt for one of his familiar sleeveless vests, and even the trio of Marines looked relaxed and happy. Colonel Hocken was squinting up at the sky as though she were judging the speed of the gentle wind, while William was busy chatting up the Satedan in charge of the day’s expedition. William had already discarded his jacket and overshirt, revealing a t-shirt that fit too well to be regulation — all in all, Radek thought, more than a bit of a holiday. Even if there were Genii to deal with at the end.

And sure enough, there they were, three young men in a mix of civilian clothes and uniforms, and Ladon Radim’s sister Dahlia stood with Ushan Cai beside the entrance to the Museum’s basements. She was looking a little grim, and Radek was glad they hadn’t brought Teyla along after all. Dahlia had disliked and distrusted her since they’d recovered the Ancient warship, and there was no need to exacerbate the problem. Cai lifted his hand in greeting, then came forward to clasp Ronon’s hand.

“It’s good to see you again,” he said.

“We’re glad to help out,” Ronon answered. That was for Dahlia, Radek guessed, a reminder that they were the ones doing the Genii a favor here.

“And we appreciate it,” Dahlia said, with a creditable smile. “I believe my brother made our situation clear?”

Ronon nodded. “You found something you need us to initialize for you. Along with some other stuff we might find useful.”

“Yes,” Dahlia said.

“So let’s see it,” Ronon said.

“We’ve left the objects where we found them,” Dahlia said. “At the insistence of Mr. Lyal here.” She nodded to the man who had been talking to William. “He informed us — insisted, in fact — that you would find them more interesting if we did not move them.”

Ronon looked as though he was going to protest, but William interrupted. “Brilliant, thank you. That’s exactly what we need.”

“Right,” Ronon said, after only a fractional hesitation.

“This way,” the Satedan, Lyal, said quickly, gesturing toward the open door. “But — it’s a small space.”

“Colonel,” Ronon began, and Hocken nodded.

“Why don’t I stay here? With the Marines.”

And provide cover and back-up just in case, Radek thought, with approval. It wasn’t precisely that he didn’t trust the Genii, but he felt a lot better with the military contingent keeping an eye on things above ground.

“I’ll remain also,” Dahlia said, firmly, and Ronon nodded.

“OK. Let’s go.”

It was, Radek thought, better than the last time he’d climbed down into the basement of the City Museum. Cai’s people had rigged a remarkably sturdy-feeling ladder, and the Genii had provided a generator and strung electric lights, so, all in all, it was an improvement. Admittedly, the giant, massive-tusked skull was still lying in the middle of its smashed crates, though someone had decorated it with a wreath of wilting flowers, which didn’t make it look any less aggressive, and there was still a section of passage where one had to crawl, but at least he was confident that the ceiling was unlikely to collapse on them. Reasonably confident, he amended, studying the nearest supports. He would have preferred to place them just half a meter or so closer to the main wall, but he thought they would probably hold.

He edged through the last narrow corridor, came out into a wider space lit by a cluster of worklights on tripod stands. Behind him, Ronon grunted, came out of the corridor rubbing the top of his head. William ignored them both, concentrating on the items laid out on the improvised worktable.

“I thought you said nothing was moved,” he said to Lyal, who gave an apologetic shrug.

“This was salvage. It wasn’t until they started finding things we didn’t recognize that we decided to leave the objects where they were.”

William gave an abstracted nod, an all too familiar expression, and produced a flashlight from his pocket. The beam of light splashed over a row of dark gaps, like the mouths of narrow tunnels, revealing shelves and crates and a waterfall of dust and plaster. “These are — were — more storage areas?”

“Yes,” Lyal said. “More of the Ancestors’ collection, I think — assuming we’ve identified the area correctly, and that the plans we have are accurate.”

“There’s always that,” William agreed, with a smile, and edged carefully into the first of the openings.

Ronon made another irritated noise, and looked at the young Genii who’d come down with them. “So what’s this thing you need us to turn on?”

“Here.” The Genii — his name was Alvers, Radek remembered — pointed to the largest of the crystals laid out on the worktable.

“May I?” Radek moved forward without waiting for an answer, slipping off his pack of tools. You didn’t often find crystals that large and complex intact, though clearly the Satedans had made an effort to collect them. He lifted it carefully, turning it in the light, and shook his head. There was a fine crack in the outside pillar, a faint thread of darkness that followed an internal face, spoiling the even color. “This is damaged — here, do you see?”

Alvers shrugged. “It’s very small.”

“But enough to blow this apart in your faces,” Radek answered. “And I don’t particularly want to be blamed for that.”

“The Chief of Sciences knows there’s a crack,” Alvers said, sounding offended. “But — without this, we can’t fly our ship.”

“I don’t think you can fly it with this,” Radek said. Still… He had made cracked crystals work, if only for a limited time. He set it back down again, and took out the finest of his probes. The crack was shallower than he’d thought, and not as long; the internal facets had deceived him. OK, maybe it would work for a while, but if this was a key navigational component, when it blew, the Pride of the Genii would be stranded somewhere in deep space. And that wasn’t exactly going to make anybody happy.

It didn’t look like a navigational crystal, though, or at least not the ones with which he was most familiar. They tended to have more internal crystals, layers within layers, not this central core surrounded by smaller, stubbier controls. If anything, it looked like a weapons array.

“We need it initialized,” Alvers said. “We’re prepared to take whatever risks are necessary.”

It was part of a weapons array, Radek realized. He’d seen this shape of crystal before in the jumpers, though this was at least six or seven times larger. This was the power control, the equivalent of a capacitor, which, in practical terms, meant it was likely enough to overload. “What did you say this was for?”

“It matches a damaged crystal in our navigation systems,” Alvers answered.

And that, Radek thought, means this is a lie. He glanced over his shoulder, wondering how to warn Ronon — not that it was necessarily a problem to give the Genii working weapons, they were technically allies, but if they were going to lie about it, it was hard not to think that Ladon Radim was up to something. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“If it blows up, it will damage the surrounding systems,” Radek temporized. “It’s your business, of course — but do you want to take that risk?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Alvers answered. “Unless you have an undamaged crystal you’d be willing to trade for us?”

“I doubt we have one,” Radek answered. “I know most of our larger inventory, and I haven’t seen one like this.”

Alvers spread his hands. “There you are.”

“What’s wrong with this one?” Ronon asked.

“It’s cracked,” Radek began. And it’s not what they say it is. If only there were a way to get Alvers out of earshot —

William reappeared in the tunnel mouth, his flashlight gripped in his teeth. He was cradling a box of what looked like datacrystals, and set it carefully on the table, then took the flashlight out of his mouth. “This looks interesting.”

“Yes?” Radek fixed him with a stare. At Cambridge, William had been quick enough to pick up a hint. “What is it?”

William blinked once. “Datacrystals. Mostly intact, I think. Possibly worth something in trade?”

“Where did you find them?” Radek asked.

William blinked again. “In — they were in a storage cell.”

“Do you think there might be information about these larger crystals somewhere?”

“I don’t —” William stopped. “It’s possible, I suppose. Maybe — maybe if I knew where it was found? So I could match catalog records?”

“Yes,” Radek said. “That might help. Mightn’t it?”

William nodded. “Yes. Yes, absolutely. Mr. — Alvers, is it? Would you show me?”

The Genii hesitated, but there wasn’t a good way to refuse. “Of course,” he said. “This way.”

He started down the farthest corridor, William and Lyal on his heels, and Radek turned to look at Ronon.

“We have a problem,” he said quietly.

Mel Hocken looked up at a cloudless Satedan sky. The wind was out of the southwest, freshening slightly, a perfect day for flying. Of course, she wasn’t flying. She was standing around waiting to be a human light switch. Whenever Ronon and Zelenka’s science team hunted up whatever they were looking for, her job was to turn it on and see if it worked. Pretty boring, but the chance to get off world wasn’t. Sateda was her twelfth world, counting the planet where Atlantis now rested. She’d been in 302s since the second batch of trainees, and mostly she’d seen a lot of the inside of starships. Well, and the outside of some. She’d been there when the Korolev was destroyed by the Ori, with the 302 wing aboard Odyssey at the time.

Mel shook her head. No point in thinking about that. It hadn’t exactly been their most resounding victory ever. It hadn’t felt good. The losses were too high.

The best one had been the first one, the battle over Antarctica when she was part of Lt. Colonel Mitchell’s squadron. That had felt good, at least until the adrenaline wore off.

“Tea, Colonel?”

Mel turned at the voice at her elbow. It was the Satedan leader, Ushan Cai, with two stoneware handleless mugs of the strong Satedan tea. “Thank you,” she said, “I appreciate it.” More than that, she appreciated her proper rank and honorific. She’d always had to fight for that from the Jaffa in the Milky Way, but the Satedans didn’t seem to have a problem with women in the military.

Cai handed her one mug. “And what were you thinking, with your eyes on the sky?”

“That it’s a perfect day for flying,” Mel said.

Cai glanced upward. “How can you tell, in your metal boxes?”

“I was thinking more about a light plane,” Mel said. She took a sip of the hot, smoky tea. “You wouldn’t think so, when I’ve got a 302, but I like small aircraft too. When you can really feel the airspeed and the wind makes a big difference. There’s a whole different skill set to it, a different challenge. I like the big guys, no question about it, but sometimes I wish I’d lived in the era of prop fighters. I’d like a P-38 Lightning.” Not that Ushan Cai knew what that was. “There are a lot of planes that are smaller and less high tech than the ones we use right now. Propeller driven, gasoline engines — from passenger and cargo planes that can carry a couple of dozen people down to single person ultralights.”

Cai frowned slightly. “And your people use these as well as the ships we have seen?”

“Oh yeah.” Mel took another sip. “I was stationed in Alaska for a while a few years back. General aviation is a huge thing there, because there’s so much territory to cover and the roads aren’t good, and lots of places there aren’t even roads. Lots and lots of little light aircraft, most of them propeller driven ones that can land in any open field that’s big enough. Or sea planes, fitted out with floats that can land on a lake or river. A lot of people use them to get around the back country instead of driving.”

“And are there not rail lines?” Cai asked.

Mel shrugged. “Alaska has rail lines, but it’s not like they go wherever you want. Not out to every little town.”

“And these planes can land in any open field?”

“With a skilled pilot, sure.” Mel looked at him curiously. “With respect, Mr. Cai, why are you interested in Alaska?”

Ushan Cai grinned. “I’m interested in the planes, Colonel Hocken.” He leaned up against the edge of the fountain, one booted foot on the pockmarked stonework. “Are they expensive?”

“Not compared to a 302,” Mel said. “They’re millions apiece. General aviation planes run a couple of hundred thousand, depending on what you get. There are ultra light kit planes for twenty five, thirty thousand. I looked into buying one for fun a few years ago, but then I was posted to Odyssey and would never have had a chance to use it.”

“So that is very affordable? What is the value of that in trade goods?”

Mel thought about it for a minute. “Well, finished titanium runs about $20 a pound, give or take fluctuations in the market. One of those big plates of yours is probably worth $2,000. So fifteen of those for an ultra light? Seventy five of them for a shiny new Cessna? Something like that.”

Ushan Cai nodded gravely. “That seems very reasonable.”

“You want to buy a plane?”

Cai leaned over his foot, taking a sip of his tea. “Sateda was a heavily populated world, Colonel Hocken. This whole continent had a population of millions. But many of them did not live in the cities. There were towns and villages, farms and mines, and homesteaders who lived as our ancestors had, in upland holdings answering only to their own chieftain. The rail lines connected us, and in recent years had brought steam heat and electric lights to even remote areas. Coal and other resources flowed into the city down our arteries of iron.” He looked out over the city, his eyes narrowed against the bright sunlight. “The Wraith destroyed our rail lines, and there is not a working engine in the city. It will be generations before they can be restored. But I do not think that all the people are dead. I cannot imagine how they could be! It is one thing to Cull a great city, and another to find every isolated farmstead. The country people did not rely on food brought in, or on things from far away. Most of them lived like my grandfather’s people did, with little farms and goats, carrying their water and burying their waste in outdoor latrines, making tallow candles against the dark of the year. I can’t believe they’re all dead. I think they must be going on as they were, radios silent to mark the end of the world. But we have no way to find out.” He looked at Mel sharply. “And you are giving me a way.”

Mel swallowed hard. “Take an ultralight out to scout. Go see who you can find. Use light planes to reestablish contact.” She nodded slowly, taking another sip of tea to cover where her throat had closed. “Light planes to ferry medicine and doctors, to tie the world back together.”

“Yes,” Cai said.

“The Satedan Air Force.”

Cai nodded. “Do you think it could be done?”

“Way too easily,” Mel said. “A couple of kit planes bought with your titanium, brought out on the Daedalus. Bring them through the Stargate disassembled and put them together here. I’m not enough of a mechanic to do it, but we’ve got plenty of people who are.” She looked at him. “But who would fly it? If your people didn’t have aircraft, you’d need to send some people to flight school.”

“Or hire an instructor,” Cai said. His eyes lingered on her face speculatively. “I wonder what that would cost.”

Mel swallowed again. “I’m sure with the right person you could work something out,” she said. “After all, Ronon is a contractor who works for us. You could hire someone as a contractor, someone to help you get your air program off the ground, no pun intended.”

Cai looked at her sideways. He must see the interest, the hunger. “Interested?”

“I could be,” Mel said. “I’ll have my twenty years in June, seven months from now. And if they haven’t repealed Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell… Well, that’s a long story, but let’s just say I’ve got some personal frustrations with certain regulations.” She straightened up, looking up into the bright, cool Satedan sky. It felt right. A new world, a new beginning, the start of something entirely different. No more lies, no more watching her back among her own people. “I could retire and come to Sateda. Yes.”

Ronon hauled himself slowly up the ladder to the Museum’s main floor, wondering what he should do. The Genii had lied, but that was hardly a surprise; the Genii generally found lies easier than truth, and he could see why Ladon Radim might not want to tell anyone that his brand-new Ancient warship wasn’t currently armed. But that still left the question of whether or not they ought to initialize the crystal. He wished there was a way he could call Sheppard — no, call Woolsey; if he was going to ask for help, he ought to ask the person who was actually in charge — but he couldn’t think of a way to do it that wouldn’t offend Dahlia Radim. And she already didn’t trust them. It wasn’t like Teyla to screw up anything that involved diplomacy — but that wasn’t the point. The point was, the Genii were still useful allies, and it was in his hands whether they stayed that way.

He came out into the sunlight, blinking, the smell of the settlement’s cooking fires drifting on the warm breeze. Dahlia was sitting on a low wall, her scientists one on each side like a Wraith queen’s warriors. She looked tired, her skin blanched, wrinkles showing in the strong light. The Marines had moved away, toward the edge of the little courtyard, and were talking quietly, P90s dangling; Hocken and Cai had their heads together, and the colonel was grinning as though he’d told her a particularly clever joke. Ronon had never seen her expression so unguarded, wondered if there was a place where his face changed like that. Once it had been Sateda, of course, but now — Atlantis, perhaps, where they’d taken him in, seen him at his worst, and still let him find his way. Which was another reason he had to do this right. Somehow.

He cleared his throat because he didn’t know how to address a Genii Chief of Sciences, and they all turned to look at him. Right. Give them the device Dahlia needed to make their only starship operational — to make it a battle cruiser, perhaps the equal of one of the Earth warships. He wished he knew more about their capabilities, wished he’d paid more attention, read more, studied more. Probably not their equal; the ship might be better, but the Earth people knew what they were doing, their crews were trained in a way the Genii couldn’t be. And they needed everybody, every human in Pegasus, who could fight to stand up against Queen Death. That had to be the bottom line, he thought. They couldn’t do anything unless they defeated Death. And that meant handing the Genii the weapons they needed, much as he hated the idea.

Dahlia rose to her feet, the sun bright on her fair hair. “Can you initialize it?”

Ronon nodded. “Yeah. But — you know there’s a problem.”

Dahlia hesitated for just an instant, then dipped her head in turn. “I am aware that the crystal has a hairline crack, yes. I believe it will hold, if power levels are strictly controlled.”

“Maybe,” Radek interjected. He moved to join them, giving Ronon one wary glance. Ronon nodded again, and the scientist’s mouth tightened for an instant.

“OK, then,” Radek said. He looked back at Dahlia. “It may hold for a while, yes, but not forever. You will blow it up eventually.”

“That’s possible, certainly,” Dahlia said. “But, unless you have a replacement to offer in trade, we have no choice if we are to get the Pride of the Genii into running order. Which, I hardly need mention, is to your advantage as much as it is to ours.”

“Yes, yes,” Radek said. “I am aware of the situation. But that’s not my concern here. The crystal is flawed, and it will eventually fail. Probably catastrophically. And I have no desire to be blamed for sabotaging it.”

Something like a smile flickered across Dahlia’s face. “I can assure you that will not happen.”

“No?” Radek tipped his head to one side, looking like an angry bird.

“The flaw is known,” Dahlia said. “I have taken full responsibility.”

Radek threw up his hands. “On your head be it, then.”

“Very likely,” Dahlia said. She looked at Ronon, frowning, and he shrugged.

“It’s a reasonable concern.”

Her eyes fell. “Yes,” she said, after a moment. “From your perspective, I do see that. But — as I said, the responsibility is mine.”

“OK, then,” Ronon said. He had to believe her, or say no. And they needed the Genii, at least for now. “Colonel?”

Hocken turned away from her conversation with Cai, came to join them. “Mr. Dex?”

“Go ahead and — turn this thing on.” Ronon waved toward the improvised bench where Radek had left the crystal cocooned in spongy padding.

“Sure thing.” She bent over the crystal, folding the padding away, and the crystal hummed softly at her touch. She frowned, concentrating, and the crystal lit with a flash that made them all jump.

“Hocken?”

“Holy crap.” She bit back whatever else she would have said. “Did I do that?”

“Let me see,” Radek said, hurrying over, and Dahlia was at his heels. Hocken backed away, and the two scientists bent over the crystal together.

“Great,” Hocken said, under her breath. “Way to go, Mel.”

Ronon glanced at her, and saw her blush. “Hey, it’s not your fault. Everybody said it was damaged.”

“Yeah, but.” Hocken shook her head.

“You heard her yourself,” Ronon said. “It’s her call, not ours. And they weren’t going to be able to manage without it.”

“I suppose,” Hocken said, but he thought she looked relieved.

“Oh, very good,” Radek said, straightening, and Dahlia gave a long sigh. “OK, yes, that was — interesting — but it has held, and it’s successfully initialized.”

“Thank you,” Dahlia said, and managed to remember, “Colonel. Gentlemen.”

And if it held under that stress, Ronon thought, it would probably hold up to the strain of the weapons system. At least for a while. And that had to be a good thing, or at least that was what he’d tell Woolsey.

It was a little harder to remember that conviction sitting in Woolsey’s office, his hands folded carefully on the desktop, copying Woolsey’s familiar pose. He felt like a schoolboy, like the overgrown fifteen-year-old he’d been, tripping over his feet and his tongue, often at the same time. But that was a very long time ago, and he straightened his spine, fighting for the words.

“So it seemed to me that it was better to go ahead and give them the working crystal so that they could fight Queen Death. So I did.”

There was a little silence, Woolsey watching him steadily. “That’s it?” he said at last.

Ronon nodded. “Yeah.”

Woolsey nodded slowly. “I agree.”

“What?” Ronon had been braced to argue, to justify himself, felt as though he’d stepped on ice that cracked to let him fall through.

“I agree.” Woolsey smiled slightly. “It was a good call, Mr. Dex.”

“Thanks,” Ronon said after a moment, and pushed himself back from the desk. Woolsey looked up at him, his face abruptly serious.

“You’re welcome. It’s why we’re glad to have you here, you know.”

“Thanks,” Ronon said again, and let himself out into the gateroom.