Unascended

Chapter Three

The iris filled with blue as the gate opened, and Daniel leaned back in his seat as John threaded the needle’s eye neatly with the jumper. He was used to missions beginning with a hike, and found it an unaccustomed luxury to be able to take the jumper and as much gear as he wanted to haul along without having to be able to carry it all on his back.

They came through the gate into bright sunlight, grassland stretching out around them as far as Daniel could see. The grass was amber rather than green, seed heads swaying in the wind that the jumper kicked up. The distant horizon swam with heat.

“All right, listen up, I’m only going to say this once,” Rodney said.

Sheppard spoke up from the pilot’s seat. “Promise?”

“No.” It was easy banter, comfortable, and it made Daniel wish for a moment that his own team was there. He hadn’t been able to justify why he needed SG-1 on this mission — it had been hard enough making a case for him to stay and continue his research rather than going back to work — but he wished Sam were there. Although of course Sam wasn’t on SG-1 anymore.

“This planet has a high-oxygen atmosphere,” Rodney went on. “Anything that burns here is going to burn fast and hot. Anything that strikes a spark is extremely likely to start a fire. These?” He held up his P90. “Likely to strike sparks.”

“We get it,” John said. “No weapons fire unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“My gun doesn’t fire bullets,” Ronon said.

“No, it fires directed energy. Did what I just said make that sound like a better idea to you?”

“We will not fire except as a last resort,” Teyla said. She glanced at Daniel, as if making certain that he was paying attention, and he nodded.

“Got it.”

“Hopefully there won’t be anything to shoot at,” John said.

“Hostile wildlife,” Rodney said, as if John might have forgotten.

“Thousands of years ago. Maybe they’ve moved on. Dr. Jackson, any idea where we should be looking for your archaeological site?”

“The records mentioned a river near the gate.”

“For some definition of ‘near,’” Rodney said.

Ronon rolled his eyes at him. “It’s not like we’re having to walk.”

Jinx, Jack would have said. Daniel shook his head, wondering why he was thinking about the early years of his team rather than the actual team he’d left behind. He wasn’t nostalgic for those days, he told himself. Nostalgic for the people he’d worked with then, maybe, but not actually for those early days of blundering in the dark, making lethal mistakes more often than they solved problems.

They hadn’t even known what questions to ask, then, and there had been no time to look for answers that weren’t immediately useful. Now, finally, he had the luxury of doing real archaeology, the kind that didn’t involve trying to shoot pictures of artifacts while being chased past them by enemy troops. It was hard to remember how that even felt. He tried to summon up his old enthusiasm for the beginning of a dig, the promise of answers to questions he hadn’t even thought of yet, and couldn’t quite recapture the feeling. All he could think of was how many questions there were, and how inadequate the answers always seemed.

“All right,” John said. “It looks like there’s a river about thirty klicks to the northwest of here, so let’s go check it out.”

Ronon leaned over Rodney’s shoulder to look out the front window. “What are we looking for?”

“Hopefully, visible buildings,” Daniel said. “Or mounds that have accreted over buildings. I’m hoping we won’t end up having to dig too much.”

“It would have been nice if they’d built a road,” John said.

“They probably did, but we’re talking about thousands of years, here. It could be under meters of dirt, and I don’t see anything that looks like the track of a road here. You might try the jumper’s sensors, though. If the road was paved, you may be able to pick up the building material as distinct from the soil in the local area—”

“Already on it,” Rodney said, his hands flying over the console in front of him. “And voilà.” The jumper’s screen now displayed an enhanced version of the scene outside, clearly showing a three-meter strip of irregular paving stone stretching from the gate to the northwest.

“Nice,” Daniel said.

John nodded, one hand moving affectionately over the jumper’s controls. “You ought to get yourselves one of these.”

“You know, we’ve asked, but that keeps not happening.”

“Oh, please, you have a time traveling jumper to study,” Rodney said. “You know we’ve asked for that back, right?”

“It’s like they think we would use it,” John said.

“Only as, you know, a last resort,” Rodney said. Teyla and Ronon exchanged a skeptical look.

“That’s always how it starts,” Daniel said. He squinted at the haze of trees now visible to the northwest, and then at the display scrolling across the screen. “It doesn’t look like the road goes all the way to the river. Take us a little lower.”

John obliged, bringing the jumper down to skim low enough over the grass that it billowed in the wind they kicked up.

“There,” he said, pointing to a stand of scrub trees and bushes far short of the meandering green line of the river’s course on the horizon.

“That’s not near the river,” Rodney said.

“It used to be. Look at the contours, there’s a depression here just the right shape to be an old ox-bow. The river meanders, a loop gets cut off, it turns into a lake, then eventually the lake dries up. What was an outpost next to the river turns into an outpost sitting in the middle of a field. But those trees suggest there’s still some source of water there, try running a more tightly focused scan.”

The display on the console shifted as John gave instructions to the jumper, and Rodney’s skeptical look changed to one of focused attention. “Oh, that’s definitely man made,” he said. “There’s some kind of rectangular structure down there. And metal piping running down to the water table.”

“The Ancients sunk a well. It’s probably leaking, and the water source and the slight windbreak caused by the depression in the ground is how you get trees.”

John frowned as he brought the jumper lower. “Why would the Ancients put in a well if this used to be right on the river?”

“Ah… I’m not entirely sure. Maybe the river water wasn’t drinkable without purification, which makes sense if there was a lot of native wildlife. Or maybe they didn’t want their water source to be dependent on the river’s present course.”

“Taking the really long view?”

“They did that. We’re talking about people who seeded entire civilizations. The chance of the river changing its course in a few hundred years might have seemed like next week’s problem to them. Try not to put us down right on top of the archaeological site, please.”

John set the jumper down well clear of the structure, and Daniel climbed out, pushing his way into the chest-high grass that crunched dryly underfoot as he walked. Teyla fingered a stalk, frowning.

“Problems?” John said, looking sideways at her.

“We call this tindergrass,” she said. “It grows in burned-over fields and other places where there has recently been a fire.”

“I wouldn’t say recently,” John said, pushing dry seed-heads aside as he plowed through the tall grass.

“It grows very quickly. And it burns very easily itself.”

“So would soaking wet wood, in this atmosphere,” Rodney said. “That’s why we’re all going to be really careful—”

“We get the picture,” John said.

Ronon turned abruptly, drawing his pistol, and Rodney slapped his arm. “What did I just say!”

“I thought I saw something.”

“Probably some kind of animal,” John said.

“I figured that, yes.” Ronon pushed his way some distance through the tall grass away from their path, and crouched to brush the grasses aside. “There’s a trail here.”

“Now we get the tyrannosaurs,” Rodney said.

Ronon grinned. “Only if they’re two feet tall.”

“There were small dinosaurs,” Rodney said. “Small but vicious. Probably poisonous.”

“Can we put a hold on the extreme pessimism until we actually get to the site?” Sheppard brushed sweat out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Please?”

“I think they’re little grazing animals,” Ronon said. “These look like hoofprints.”

“So, probably not really scary.”

“Famous last words,” Daniel said.

There was a sudden rustling in the grass, coming rapidly toward them. Daniel drew his own pistol despite Rodney’s warnings, although he didn’t thumb the safety off. Ronon and Teyla turned toward the sound, backing warily away.

Several small brown forms exploded out of the grass and raced across their path, hooves beating the ground. Everyone stared after them for a moment as they vanished into the sea of tall grass on the other side.

John adjusted his sunglasses, as if they might have been affecting his vision. “Were those horses?”

“Really short horses,” Ronon said. “With fangs.”

“They did not have fangs,” Rodney said.

“You’re right, they didn’t.”

“I think we will all be fine,” Teyla said. “Let us see what we can make of Dr. Jackson’s archaeological site.”

“It doesn’t look like much,” Rodney said, squinting at the structure. There was definitely a manmade building there, its rectangular lines too regular for anything but a purposeful construction. It was half buried by vegetation, the wind having heaped up the soil against one side of it, leaving the lee side clear enough to distinguish beneath the tangle of scrubby brush. “Under all that dirt, we’re looking at, what, a metal box?”

John shrugged. “What do you want, a sign saying ‘the Ancients were here’?”

“That would be nice.”

“There’s nothing here the Ancients could have used to build with,” Daniel said. “It would have been easier to use metal than to bring in stone.”

“Well, yes, of course, but anybody could have.” Rodney was crouching down in front of one wall of the structure, brushing away the weeds.

“It’s Ancient, right?” Daniel said without needing to see past him.

“It’s built in an Ancient style, and this is Ancient lettering, but technically it’s still possible that—”

“McKay,” John said.

“All right, yes, it’s Ancient. There’s something weird about this door, though, it looks like maybe somebody tried to pry it open.”

Daniel crouched to see, and Rodney leaned back out of his way somewhat grudgingly. The metal was definitely scored in what he didn’t think could be an intentional part of its design. “I think you’re right,” he said. “Relic hunters?” He glanced up at Teyla for confirmation.

“It is possible,” she said. “The devices of the Ancestors are very valuable to those with the ability to use them. There are groups who move from world to world scavenging what they can from Culled civilizations. They would certainly have taken any relics of the Ancestors they could find in hopes of being able to sell them to someone who had a use for them.”

“And so much for finding anything useful to us,” Rodney said.

“Okay, what part of ‘we probably aren’t going to find any weapons’ was I unclear about? I’m just asking because—”

Daniel broke off at a louder rustling in the grass. Another herd of the miniature horses thundered past, kicking up dust as they went. There was a whirring of wings, and a flock of birds arrowed through the underbrush, past them and gone.

“People,” Ronon said. “We have a problem.”

“I told you something would turn out to have fangs,” Rodney muttered, and then his expression changed as he turned. On the horizon, there was a smear of black and a flickering brightness, and above them the wavering mirage of rising heat. The wind was blowing toward them across the sea of grass, hot and heavy with smoke.

“Let’s get back to the jumper,” John said.

Ronon shook his head and caught him by the arm. “There’s not time.”

“Ronon is right,” Teyla said, her eyes on the rising smoke. “We would not reach the jumper.” Even as she spoke, Daniel could see new patches of flame breaking out ahead of the racing wall of fire, sparks leaping toward them on the wind.

John turned to Rodney. “Can you get that door open?”

“How fast?”

“Fast.”

“Then, no.”

“Don’t open the door,” Daniel said quickly. “If we can’t get it closed again, the fire could ruin the interior of the site.”

“Also us!”

“Move,” Ronon said, grabbing Rodney by the arm and pulling him up. Teyla caught Daniel’s arm to urge him forward, but he hardly needed the encouragement to run.

Ronon was setting their direction, not directly away from the fire but angling away from it toward the river. The smell of smoke was stronger, but Daniel resisted the urge to turn and look over his shoulder. Ronon was well out ahead of them, clearly having to slow himself down even so, and he did turn back to make sure they were all following. His expression wasn’t reassuring. “Pick up the pace.”

“Not getting enough of a workout?” John called back from behind him.

“You can do better,” Ronon said.

Rodney sounded breathless when he spoke, although he was keeping up as well as Daniel. Clearly his years in Pegasus had given him plenty of practice at running away. “Please do joke about our imminent fiery demise.”

“We’re not going to — hey!” Ronon went down, sprawling as if he’d tripped over something, but there was something odd about the way he was twisting trying to get up — he was tangled in a net, Daniel realized abruptly, a waist-high, broad woven net stretched between stakes.

“What the hell?” John demanded, slowing his pace to avoid running into the net himself. Ronon was already cutting himself free when Teyla spun, brandishing her sticks. John raised his P90, his arm tensing as if he were struggling with the urge to fire.

The attack came from the side, and for a moment Daniel thought “dinosaur,” and then, “really big bird,” and then, “I should be getting out of its way.” He threw himself to one side at the same time as the creature skidded to a halt, screeching and backing up, ducking its head to inspect them. It was built like an ostrich, but taller and far stockier, with a beak the size of Daniel’s head and wickedly sharp claws.

It had a net draped across its body. Entangled in the same net, he thought for a moment, but the edges didn’t look torn, the drape of the net too purposeful. As if it were carrying the net, or wearing it.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, putting his hands out, “we’re not going to hurt you.”

“Teyla, can you take this thing?” Ronon asked. He was up by now, his pistol leveled at the giant bird.

“I believe so,” Teyla said. “It would be unwise to shoot.”

“It’s just a really big bird,” John said, backing slowly away from the creature with his hands held up in front of him. “Nice birdie. How about we all just… ”

There was the thunder of feet, and another of the enormous birds came into view, this one even bigger, slowing but not stopping as it saw them. It raised its head and made a deep chattering noise, its eyes on the smaller one. Daniel could feel another gust of hot wind from behind them.

As if coming to agreement, both creatures lowered their heads and charged, the larger one heading for Ronon, the smaller for John. “Run!” John yelled.

Teyla swept low with her sticks, trying to knock the feet out from under the one charging John. It screamed and struck at John, its beak coming down like an axe. John swore and threw himself out of the way, and it raised one foot to rake at him.

Daniel threw himself against it with all his weight, and it staggered. It flailed out with its wings, and he saw not entirely to his surprise that the wingtips ended in long, bony fingers. They grabbed for him, trying to entangle them in the net.

Then the creature screeched again and went down as Teyla lashed out again with her sticks, its feet flailing. He could hear fabric tearing as one claw snared his pants leg. Ronon had slashed free a section of the staked net and was wielding it like a gladiator, while the other bird circled him warily.

Then Rodney was tugging him up, somewhat to his surprise. “Go, go!” Daniel needed no more encouragement. He sprinted for the horizon, Teyla and Rodney following.

“Come on, Sheppard!” Rodney yelled.

“We’re coming!”

There was an enraged squawk that he interpreted as a large bird being entangled in net. He risked a glance back over his shoulder and saw that both John and Ronon were running after them, already beginning to close the distance between them. His leg was beginning to sting in an insistent way that suggested the claw had connected with more than fabric.

The smaller of the two birds was on its feet, reaching down to bite at the strands of net that still entangled it.

Ahead of them, he could see the green line of brush that sloped down to the river. So could every small animal trying to escape the fire. Anything that wasn’t caught in the nets would make for the protection of the water.

“They’re going to be waiting at the river,” Ronon said, catching up to Daniel. He sounded as though this were no more than an easy jog.

“I know,” John called from behind him. “But they don’t look like great swimmers, so when we get there, everybody into the water.”

“We’re going to have to go through these guys,” Ronon said.

“We’ve just met an entirely new intelligent species, and we’re about to make first contact by shooting them,” Daniel said.

“You got a better idea?”

“Try warning shots,” John said. “And, yes, Rodney, I remember why that’s a bad idea, but we’re heading straight for the river.”

“I’m just saying the two things I didn’t want in my day were dinosaurs and fire!” Rodney said, unslinging his own P-90 and cradling it as he ran.

“They’re not dinosaurs, McKay.”

“Birds are essentially dinosaurs, any paleontologist—”

Ronon grabbed the back of Rodney’s jacket, thrusting him forward faster. “Shut up and run!”

Daniel could see the bird-creatures as they neared the river, their beaks and feathered heads partially concealed behind bushes and scrubby trees. Unnaturally sharpened sticks protruding from the bushes suggested that some of them had constructed spears to add to their natural weaponry.

The grass ended well short of the greener tangle of brush that led down the bank, with an area of scraped bare ground between them. A firebreak, he realized, and couldn’t help wondering if they’d used their claws or some kind of shovel — their wings were too short for a hand-held digging tool to get much leverage.

“Net!” Teyla called, and leapt over it gracefully, landing squarely in the dirt on the other side. Daniel managed to jump it himself, although when he landed, the stinging in his leg increased to an urgent burn. By the time he steadied himself, the others were over, John and Ronon moving out in front.

“Get out of our way!” John yelled.

“I don’t think they understand what you’re saying,” Ronon said. Daniel could see several of them moving closer, and he suspected that meant there were more moving that he couldn’t see.

John clearly felt the same, because he fired, a short burst of bullets that spat against the ground between him and the nearest of the creatures.

The nearest bushes went up like a torch. There were cries of alarm from the creatures, several of them backing out into the cleared section of dirt. It looked to Daniel like they had a clear path to the river. Teyla was already moving, and he followed her, shrugging out of his pack on the way and scrambling through the underbrush toward the river bank with its straps hooked over one arm.

The bank dropped off more sharply than he was expecting, and he slid more than scrambled down into the water. There were nets in the shallow part of the river, too, supported by floats, and as he reached them, two of the creatures splashed into the water, paddling toward him. They weren’t particularly speedy in the water, but they beat their legs powerfully, churning along with what seemed like determination.

He tossed his pack over and then tugged out a knife and slashed the net, squirming through and then diving, making for the middle of the river where the current was stronger. He stayed under as long as he could, his lungs burning, before he finally broke the surface and rolled over onto his back, lifting his head to make sure the others were following.

They were, and although one of the creatures was pursuing, kicking along like a malevolent paddleboat, they were already outdistancing it. It seemed safe enough to retrieve his pack, now bobbing in the current, and to keep hold of it as he swam. When he looked back again, their pursuer had apparently given them up as not worth the effort, and was clambering out on the opposite bank from the one where a fire was now blazing through the scrubby trees.

He kicked against the current, letting the others catch up to him; Teyla was swimming against the current to get back within earshot. “How far do you want to go downstream?” he called.

John looked back at the milling creatures, several of whom were now hauling nets weighted down with dead or struggling animals across the river, out of reach of the fire. They were still chattering to each other, in what Daniel had to guess was at least a rudimentary language. “A good long way,” he said. “Let’s give them plenty of room.”

The water was probably barely cool, but after the blazing heat of the fire it felt cold on his skin. He swam doggedly downstream, entirely on board with the decision to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the hostile birds.

“What was that?” John said abruptly, rolling over in the water and looking around.

“What was what?” he called.

Ronon kicked abruptly in another direction. “There’s something moving in the water. Something big.”

“I think we’ve gone far enough,” John said. He started making for the bank, and Daniel followed his lead.

Something broke the water in front of John. Daniel was expecting the smooth slickness of a fish’s back, or maybe the scales of something crocodilian. Instead, he had a quick impression of something streamlined but feathered. It surfaced again, and he could see its beady eye, tracking Daniel as it swam, and its six-inch long beak. The beak looked decidedly sharp.

Another one breached behind Daniel, and as he splashed away from it he got a better close range look at the thing than he particularly wanted. It looked like a penguin, he decided a little incredulously, if penguins were mud-colored and as big as Teyla. Another one surfaced, and then another, swimming in swift bobbing motions along the surface of the water between Daniel and the nearest bank.

“I hate to say this, but I think these things are hunting us,” John said, as two of them cut off his route toward shallower water.

“We are very big to be prey for these creatures,” Teyla said.

“Maybe they’re ambitious.”

Teyla rolled over with her P90 in her arms and sighted at the nearest of the swimming birds, but held her fire. “If I shoot one, it may drive them off, or spur them to attack.”

“I could stun them,” Ronon said.

“But can you stun them all before they attack?”

“Sure,” Ronon said, rolling over almost lazily and sighting on what Daniel could only think of as a giant penguin. “Couldn’t you?”

“Well, do something,” Rodney snapped. “Before we wind up penguin food.”

“You’ve seen these things before?” Ronon said.

One of them darted forward and struck at John’s pack, which he had been towing along beside him as he swam. The pack jerked out of John’s hands and disappeared under the surface of the water. “Hey. Hey!” John called indignantly.

“Better your pack than yourself,” Teyla said. Several more of the creatures were now diving toward the submerged pack, and after a moment items that Daniel recognized as Air Force issue began floating to the surface.

“I notice they didn’t take your pack,” John said.

“Yes, that is fortunate,” Teyla said, ignoring his sour tone. Daniel had a clear path now to the bank, and swam hard for it, hauling himself up into the shallow water and slogging through the mud toward the bank. The rest of the team was in shallow water as well, Ronon shaking out his hair and Rodney churning the water in his eagerness to reach the bank.

“We have penguins on Earth,” Rodney said. “They’re just not terrifying.”

“Then these aren’t penguins,” Ronon said.

“Close enough.”

Teyla looked at Daniel in concern as he dragged himself up the bank and well clear of the water, his leg aching with every step. “Are you hurt?”

“That would be a yes,” he said, and sat down heavily. In the river, the birds were still fighting over the remains of John’s pack. Two of them had found an MRE, and appeared to be trying to consume it packaging and all.

Daniel rolled up the remainder of his pants leg and let her bandage the deep scratch neatly. Ronon had a long scrape down his arm, but didn’t seem to consider it worth paying attention to at the moment.

“I’m thinking we get out of sight of the river, and then wait it out for a while,” John said. “If you’re hanging in there, Dr. Jackson.”

“Daniel,” he said. “And, yeah, I don’t think I’m currently heavily bleeding, so that’s probably a good idea.”

They stomped some distance away from the river, until they could no longer hear the sounds of splashing or see the water through the bushes.

“We should camp reasonably close to the river in case there’s another fire,” John said. The grass here wasn’t burned, although the wind was carrying the smell of smoke.

“But not close enough for the giant penguins to eat us,” Rodney said.

“Yes, not that close, McKay.”

“Are we going to make camp?” Ronon said. “We aren’t that far down river.”

“It’s probably not a bad idea,” Daniel said. “I’m guessing our friends back there are the ones who originally set the fire—”

“Nice of them,” Ronon said.

“They are hunters,” Teyla said.

“Burning the grass to drive game into their nets,” Daniel agreed. “Only we got in the way. I don’t know if we pissed them off, or if they just figured we’d be good eating, but either way, the more time we give them to take their catch and clear out, the better.”

“In about ten hours they’ll dial the gate to check up on us,” John said. “If we haven’t made it back to the site by then, I’ll tell Lorne to come give us a ride.”

They made camp where the bushes thinned out into dry grass. It would have been comfortable if their gear hadn’t been soaking wet, and if they had dared to heat up any of their food; as it was, it was tolerable. Daniel ate his cold dinner and leaned back against his backpack, looking up at the darkening sky.

He could almost hear Jack saying are we having fun yet, kids?

“You know, archaeology doesn’t have to be like this,” he said conversationally to the first stars, now hazily visible against the deepening blue.

“Welcome back to Pegasus,” John said.

The grandmother hugged Elizabeth one last time. “I hope you find your people,” she said.

“I hope so too.” Elizabeth hugged her back, tears stinging her eyes unexpectedly. Truly she had been taken in by these people, treated as one of their own when she had nothing to offer, a rare and extraordinary kindness.

The grandmother dropped her voice. “Not all of the Travelers are good people, and they’re sharp traders. But our Ring is in orbit. If they will take you to a gate in their travels, you can dial Sateda. You remember the address I gave you?”

Elizabeth nodded. “I do. And thank you.”

The last people were filing in amid goodbyes, the ship’s ramp still extended though everything had been packed away and the Mazatla were moving back to a safe distance. Elizabeth waved once more to Kyan and his father, then hurried aboard.

“This way,” Atelia said, leading her through a maze of improvised passages and ductwork. “Just stay out of the way during the lift, and we can talk when we’re in hyperspace. Here you go. This one’s yours.” She stopped in a narrow section of hallway. There were four bunks built into the walls, two on each side, with a thin foam mattress on each and a plastic curtain. One was drawn back to show the niche was empty except for the safety belts that would allow someone to strap in.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. She only had a small bundle, a change of clothes given her by the Mazatla, and she clipped it to one of the straps within.

“I’d advise you to strap in for lift,” Atelia said quickly. “It can be rough. And sometimes the grav generators don’t work right.”

“I’ll be careful,” Elizabeth said. She settled back into the bunk as Atelia hurried away, her head pillowed on her bundle as she fastened the seatbelts and drew the curtain. The yellow light fixture blinked, probably warning takeoff, as a slow rumble began somewhere beneath her. The ship’s main engines were coming online.

A scratchy voice came over an intercom. “Getting ready for power up. Everybody strap in. Don’t unstrap until I give the word.”

That was straightforward enough, Elizabeth thought. The roar and vibration grew. Should she be frightened? Wouldn’t someone planet-bound usually be? And yet she wasn’t, not really. Had she traveled on a space ship before? If so, when? Where those memories should be was nothing but blankness. Elizabeth closed her eyes as the vibration turned to shaking, presumably the actual lift in progress. Why couldn’t she remember? What had happened to her? Surely it was there somewhere, like these tantalizing flashes that came at odd moments, scenes of a life interrupted. There must be a way to find it.

She flexed her hands, willing her fingers to relax, stretching them against the leg of her pants. Relax. Deep breaths. Perhaps if she could relax, control her breathing, let the tension flow out, she would find her way. Relax.

The vibration was less now, a soothing sort of motion rather than shaking. Relax. Her eyes closed, her breath coming quietly. Around her, the shipboard noises were comforting rather than distracting, the sounds of machines and people going about their business, distanced by the curtain across her bunk.

Like a dormitory, she thought. Like a dormitory…

The light awakened her, bright through the curtainless window. It was open, and the warmth of an August morning blew in through the leaves of the old tree outside, the voices of students coming up from the walk below, the traffic sounds a distant blur. The breeze smelled of the river and sunshine.

Elizabeth opened her eyes. The other bed was empty, peach comforter pulled up, the clip light on the metal bed frame turned off. Her roommate had already left.

She sat up, pushing back the covers and taking a deep breath. Her blue and white rug covered the scuffed hardwood floor. Her plastic bins were stacked beside the dresser, her boombox plugged in beside the mirror, her suitcase unzipped on the dresser top where she’d gotten her pajamas out the night before. The digital clock said it was seven thirty.

Seven thirty of the first day. Her heart leaped. The first day, her first day of a new life, her first day on her own. Her first day, and these moments alone to savor it in her own place before she went in search of breakfast and the ten o’clock advisor meeting. The first day.

She got up, turning in the light from the window, a small, slow smile beginning. She turned on the boombox radio.

“…big pile up in the northbound lanes of Key Bridge, blocking two lanes at the Rosslyn end. Our advice is to take Memorial this morning, folks. It’s going to be a while before they get it cleared. And that’s your go-to traffic this morning! We’ll be back on the hour with the latest. To get you going, here’s John Parr’s Man in Motion from the hit movie St. Elmo’s Fire!”

The opening chords of one of her favorite songs washed over her, and Elizabeth turned the radio up, buoyed by sheer joy. She was here, and this was the beginning! She was finally here!

A noise, and Elizabeth snapped back to herself. The plastic curtain swayed. “I’m sorry,” Atelia said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I didn’t realize you’d gone to sleep.”

“It’s OK,” Elizabeth said. The rumble of the engines was distant and constant now. She unstrapped the waist belt and sat up. “I didn’t mean to go to sleep.”

Atelia was watching her thoughtfully. “You must be used to space travel.”

“I must be,” Elizabeth said. She had remembered something on purpose, though what it told her was still a mystery. A dormitory, and being a very young woman… It poured away like water through her fingers, whatever happened next, the name of the place, of all those she’d known there.

“You can rest if you like,” Atelia said. “It’s two full watches before we reach our rendezvous point.”

“Where is that? A planet?” Elizabeth got to her feet.

“No.” Atelia shook her head. “We’re smarter than that! We choose random coordinates in deep space for our meetings, and we never use the same ones twice. That way the Wraith can never guess where we’re going to be and wait in ambush for us.”

“They would do that?” The Wraith were a mystery still, for all she had supposedly suffered at their hands.

“Some hives are smart enough to. A lot of hives leave us alone as long as we leave them alone, but sometimes they come after us. Who knows why.” Atelia shrugged. “They’re Wraith. They don’t have to make any sense.”

“Even your enemies usually make sense,” Elizabeth said. “We do evil things because we’re evil only works in bad fiction.”

Atelia gave her a sharp glance. “Then you don’t know the Wraith,” she said. “Or you’re not Satedan. Because there is no reason and there is no excuse.” She turned to go.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Elizabeth said, feeling her eyebrows rise. “I remember very little, so I don’t know.”

The set of Atelia’s shoulders changed a little. “I know,” she said. She turned back briskly. “Well, if you’re awake I’ll show you where to get something to eat. We’ll be in hyperspace for a long time. And once we reach the rendezvous you can see if one of the other ships will drop you at a gate if that’s what you want.”

“I think so,” Elizabeth said. She followed Atelia forward down the corridor toward a common room small enough to be crowded with half a dozen people, including an old man holding Atelia’s baby on his lap.

A genuine smile crossed Atelia’s face. “Hello baby! Hello sweetheart!” She reached down and took him, lifting him onto her shoulder. “How’s mama’s baby? How’s Jordan?”

Elizabeth stopped, halfway to picking up a mug from a hook above the counter. “Jordan?”

“That’s his name.” Atelia turned with him in her arms. “Jordan, can you smile for Elizabeth?” The baby crowed cheerfully. She frowned at Elizabeth. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Elizabeth said, taking the mug. “I think I’ve heard that name before. That’s all.” Though why it should seem strange eluded her completely. It was just a name.