SGA-16 Homecoming - Book 1 of the Legacy Series Page 13

  “And Carter.” John nodded. “All those transfers to the Hammond. When you transfer people you can’t get them back. It’s up to their new COs. But Sam… Sam had to be in on this. She’ll transfer everybody back.”

  “Woolsey said they couldn’t transfer you because you were too close in rank to her,” Teyla said.

  John nodded. “I’m only a grade behind her. And O’Neill didn’t want to transfer me anywhere else…”

  Carson interrupted him. “…because you have to fly this bloody thing! He didn’t want to risk not being able to get you back. And let me tell you he doesn’t want me flying it!”

  “In 48 hours.” John looked up toward the control room in a kind of daze.

  “Actually, in 47 hours and 51 minutes,” Radek said. “So I had better get back to work. I do not think I will sleep until we lift.” He gave Teyla a sideways smile. “It is a good thing I didn’t start sending my things anywhere, no? I will have my television and all my things yet. Those who have shipped them off are now sorry.”

  John blinked. “Rodney.”

  Handing off Torren to Teyla, he dashed up the steps. “Chuck, can you get me a phone line out right now?”

  Chuck was talking to Woolsey on the walkway to Woolsey’s office. “Yes, I understand,” Woolsey was saying. “I do see that it’s a difficult situation.”

  John stopped behind him. “What’s up?”

  Chuck turned around. “I’m not coming back to Atlantis,” he said. “I can’t right now, Colonel. I was telling Mr. Woolsey about the situation with my family, and…”

  ”We’re going to miss you, Chuck,” John said, sticking out his hand. “It won’t be the same without you.”

  “Thank you.” Chuck looked a little surprised. “I really appreciate that.” He shook John’s hand. “Hey, you never know, on down the line.”

  “That’s right,” John said. It hadn’t occurred to him there might be people who didn’t want to come back. There might be people who had lives here, who had reasons to stay. Like Rodney.

  “Was there something you needed?” Chuck asked.

  “I was just looking for a phone,” John said. “There’s a call I need to make right now.”

  * * *

  “Are you kidding?” Rodney hurried inside his office and slammed the door behind him, shutting out the noise of the lab, the cell phone clutched to his ear. “Do I want to come back to Atlantis? Is the Pope Polish?”

  “Actually, the Pope’s not Polish anymore,” John said.

  “How did he stop being Polish?” Rodney threw himself into his desk chair, a stiff one that didn’t bounce at all.

  “It’s a new Pope. Never mind. That’s not the point! The point is, we’re lifting in…47 hours and 33 minutes. Are you going to be here?”

  Rodney flexed his fingers over the keyboard. “Of course I’m going to be there! Just let me IM Jennifer and…” He stopped.

  There was a silence on the other end of the phone as John waited for him to finish the sentence.

  “I’m going to have to call you back,” Rodney said, and the thought ran through him like a sliver of glass. What if she doesn’t want to go?

  * * *

  John handed the phone back to Chuck slowly. It’s probably just that there’s someone in his office. Rodney said he was definitely coming, right? He said he’d be here. He probably just needed to go talk to someone, John thought. He probably needed to call his boss or something. Yeah. He probably had to tell someone that he quit. Kind of awkward, quitting when you’ve only been there a few weeks.

  There was a shimmer of light in front of the Stargate, resolving itself into the forms of Colonel Carter, Ronon, and Lorne. Lorne had a huge grin on his face, and Carter glanced around before she broke into a smile, raising a hand in greeting to O’Neill, who had come out of the office and stood behind John.

  “Ronon’s back,” John said. “And Lorne.” He felt like maybe he was being a little slow on the uptake here.

  O’Neill nudged past him on his way down the steps, glanced at him sideways. “I told you to trust me.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Road Home

  Jennifer leaned back from her laptop, her mouth dropping open. The technician at the next bench gave her a wary look, and Jennifer shook herself. “Give me a minute,” she said. “Something’s come up.” She headed for her private office without waiting for an answer, closing the door behind her.

  She lifted the laptop’s lid cautiously, as though Rodney’s message might have changed. But, no, it was just the same—well, except that he had sent a second, and then a third, adding details as he thought of them, but the gist was identical. Atlantis was going back to Pegasus, and he was going with it. They were going with it, or so he implied, and for a second she wanted to smash the computer against the nearest wall. Had he forgotten why they’d quit? Forgotten that less than five months ago the IOA wanted to disassemble the city? Wanted to turn Todd into a test subject? What in hell made him think things were going to be any different?

  She took a breath, controlling her emotions. This was definitely not the time or the place for that, though, God knows, from the sound of the IMs, Rodney was already resigning… She put that thought away, too, made herself find neutral words.

  Good news about City! Can we talk plans later? Very busy here.

  That would do it, she hoped, and most of it was true. It was good news. Atlantis belonged in Pegasus—there were lives that could be saved, a thousand good things that could happen now that would not have happened before. But I don’t have to be part of that. Maybe I don’t want to be.

  It could be done, of course. She could resign—they might not be happy, probably wouldn’t be, but it wasn’t like she’d be taking some other, better research job. It was more like what happened when a canceled project was reprieved from the chopping block: people went back when they could, and it was only a little black mark on their CV. And Carl understood about SGC, about the Atlantis Project. He wouldn’t bad-mouth her as unreliable, not like some bosses. It wouldn’t take all that much work to make it look like a smart choice, the only logical choice. But… There had been a reason she had quit, just as there had been a reason Carson was going back.

  Somehow she got through the rest of the day, drove herself home from the shuttle parking lot without hitting anything, and climbed the stairs from the garage to the kitchen. Rodney was there ahead of her, his Prius scrupulously in his half of the parking area, and she was not surprised to see find him in the kitchen, laptop balanced in one hand as he turned in a slow circle, surveying the still unemptied boxes. It was an Atlantis laptop, she saw, and she wondered how he’d managed to keep it.

  “Oh. Hi.” Rodney looked up with the kind of smile she hadn’t seen in months. “Listen, I found our original packing lists, and I’m pretty sure we can re-use most of them. It’s not like we’ve done lot of unpacking, really, and I know there’s a guy at Area 51 who’d like to buy those dressers—”

  “Rodney?”

  He stopped abruptly, bracing himself, and she sighed.

  “You resigned?”

  “Of course I did! It’s not like we were doing anything all that important, and, anyway, I left them all my notes.” He paused. “Which I hope they can work with, because I didn’t exactly spell everything out. But Dubois has initiative, I’m sure he can figure it out without blowing anything up. Except—” His fingers beat a drumbeat on the keys. “Hang on, I need to send an email.”

  About whatever it was that Dubois might blow up if not properly instructed. Jennifer folded her arms, looked around the little kitchen. It wasn’t a fancy condo, wasn’t anything special—they hadn’t even bothered to unpack all the way—but it had been going to be home. Atlantis was many good things, but it wasn’t home.

  “There,” Rodney said, and lowered the screen. “That ought to take care of it. Can you believe it? O’Neill and Woolsey and Carter, they were all in it together! It was all planned—John says they even got supplie
s on board already. We’re going to lift in—” He paused, calculating. “—forty hours and I don’t actually care how many minutes. Damn, I should have seen it coming! But I didn’t expect even O’Neill would be that sneaky—”

  “Rodney,” Jennifer said again, and winced to see the light fade from his smile.

  “What?”

  “Can we—” Jennifer spread her hands. “I don’t know, can we talk about this?”

  “What’s to—” Rodney stopped in turn. “Is there something to talk about?”

  Jennifer made an unhappy face. “Yes. I think so. I don’t know.”

  Rodney took a deep breath, and set the laptop carefully on the counter. “You don’t want to go back?

  “We have responsibilities,” she said. It wasn’t necessarily what she meant, but it seemed like a reasonable argument. “I have a job—”

  “You can quit.” Rodney’s voice was quieter now, as though he were really listening. She shook her head.

  “And we have the cat.”

  “We can make arrangements for the cat.”

  “In forty hours?”

  “Of course we can.” Rodney paused. “Seriously. You don’t want to go back.”

  “I don’t know,” Jennifer said again. She took a breath. “Look, Rodney, there was a reason I resigned. A reason you resigned. The IOA were going to—they were going to disassemble the city, and they were pretty much going to do the same with Todd. And that’s really wrong. Dangerously wrong. It’s a lousy precedent, a miserable thing to do, and I don’t think I want to work for them any more.”

  “I know.” To her surprise, Rodney reached out, took her right hand in both of his, stroking his thumb across her knuckles. “And you’re right. We can’t trust them. But that’s part of why I want to go. It’s part of why I want you to go, too. You won’t let them get away with crap like that. We need you.”

  Jennifer felt the tears start in her eyes, the gentle pressure of Rodney’s hands on hers.

  “Of course, I also want you to go because I love you and I want to be with you.”

  Jennifer looked up to see him smiling crookedly, eyebrows raised as though to say the joke was on him. She waited, but he said nothing more, just shook his head a little ruefully. He would go without her if he had to, Jennifer guessed, and she couldn’t really argue with him, couldn’t love him any less for it. And he was right, they—she herself could make a difference.

  She nodded slowly. “But what are we going to do about the cat?”

  “We’re scientists,” Rodney said. “We ought to be able to work this out.” He paused. “I’ll email Sheppard.”

  * * *

  Eleven hours to go. Teyla hurried into the gateroom with a handcart full of cardboard boxes full of sterile gloves and suture kits. They weren’t heavy, but they certainly were bulky. It might be eleven at night, but Atlantis had never looked so busy, all the lights blazing on the piers to facilitate the last two cargo ships unloading supplies that looked like they’d been intended for other destinations. Some of them still had stickers on them proclaiming that their destination was Nellis AFB or NORAD. She supposed General O’Neill would explain later to the people who had expected these supplies.

  Right now he was standing with Sam and Mr. Woolsey and John above on the ramp between Woolsey’s office and the control rooms. John was gesturing around with Woolsey’s cell phone, apparently arguing something. Teyla put the cart down for a moment and went up.

  “I agree that Dr. McKay is an invaluable part of the expedition,” Woolsey was saying. “And Dr. Keller is also a tremendous asset.”

  John glanced at her, still waving the phone around. “I’m just saying that’s a bottom line for Rodney.”

  Sam looked amused. “I could beam them, since they’ve barely got enough time to get here with the clothes on their backs. I could beam all their stuff, if you want me to. It’s not like Atlantis is lacking space for some furniture.”

  “The regulations about pets are quite clear,” Woolsey began.

  John glanced at Sam, then back to Woolsey. “Look, do you want McKay and the cat, or no cat and no McKay?”

  Woolsey blinked. “What cat? I don’t see any cat.”

  “That’s the spirit,” O’Neill said.

  “Tell McKay to give my first officer the coordinates and we’ll send down some magnetic tags. McKay can slap them on whatever boxes or pieces of furniture he wants transported and we’ll beam them all to the Hammond and then back down here. Otherwise we’ll beam out the kitchen sink, and that won’t work very well,” Sam said. “Then we’ll get McKay, Keller, and the cat.” She looked amused. “I hope there’s some kibble in all those boxes of yours.”

  “McKay needs to buy his own kibble,” O’Neill laughed. “And can you beam me up to the Hammond and over to the SGC when you get done, Scotty?”

  “Anytime, sir,” Sam said.

  “We’re still missing more than half of the scientific equipment we asked for,” Woolsey said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose there’s any way to get it now. Everything specialized that you didn’t have lying around an Air Force base.”

  “I’ll see what Caldwell can bring out on the Daedalus,” O’Neill said. “But you know he’s short of space.”

  “I do.” Woolsey nodded.

  “I’ll be three or four weeks behind Daedalus,” Sam said. “But you know I’ve got no space either.”

  “We’ll make do.” Woolsey squared his shoulders.

  “I cannot believe how much we have done,” Teyla said. “Or how many people are here.”

  “We’ve got you back up to a strength of about four hundred,” O’Neill said. “Nearly a hundred of those are new Air Force people.”

  “And we’re glad of them,” Woolsey said. “Since I couldn’t hire any contractors in the last three months.”

  “Speaking of which…” John began. Dr. Robinson, the new psychologist, was coming up the steps, looking back and forth between Woolsey and O’Neill uncertainly.

  “Talk to him,” O’Neill said. “He’s the man.”

  Woolsey shook her hand warmly. “Dr. Robinson. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the work you’ve done with our people these last few months. I know it’s not been the easiest thing, given the unique traumas we’ve shared. I realize this is a precipitous end. Unfortunately, we couldn’t know exactly when we would be leaving.”

  Dr. Robinson met his eyes squarely. “I’d rather it wasn’t the end. I’d like to come.”

  John’s brows twitched.

  “I know I’m not an interplanetary explorer. I haven’t had any military training and I don’t know the first thing about systems engineering. But I think you need a psychologist.” Her eyes flickered to Sam and John and back. “I’m not put off by the things I’ve heard. I understand this job has unique challenges. But it’s time for a little adventure in my life.”

  Adventure, Teyla thought, seeing Kate lying still and cold in her bed, the victim of a dream killer who knew that Kate was coming too close to understanding. “Doctor,” she said softly, “This job killed my friend, Dr. Heightmeyer. It is not an adventure. It is a life and death struggle.”

  Robinson’s eyes turned to Teyla, and there was compassion there. “It’s always a life and death struggle. I’ve spent a lot of time working with veterans, and whether they’ve been home a week or ten years, it’s still about life and death. It’s about life and death with everyone who talks to me—how we live, and how we die.” She shrugged, carefully not looking at John. “I know it’s risky. But maybe I’ve got something to learn here too. There’s only so much you can understand until you walk in those shoes yourself and run the risks you hear about.”

  Teyla glanced away. “That is what Kate said to me, during the siege the first year, when I was issuing her a firearm after the Wraith had begun beaming into the city. That if she lived, perhaps she would understand us better.” She looked back, unashamed that her voice still caught. “She lived two years more. And her work was
not inconsiderable.”

  “I will do my best to live up to your friend’s work,” Robinson said. “Mr. Woolsey, may I stay?”

  “I’m for it,” John said unexpectedly.

  Woolsey nodded. “If you’re certain, Dr. Robinson. You’d better wrap up any loose ends you’ve got on Earth. We’re going to be gone for quite some time.”

  “Better you than me,” O’Neill said with a mischevious look in his eye. “I plan to be doing some fishing.”

  * * *

  The gate room was starting to look normal again. OK, there were new faces—the tall blonde in Chuck’s seat, frowning at her keyboard; the fresh-faced Marine by the gate, P90 at port-arms; Dr. Robinson hurrying to intercept a pallet of boxes—but the crowds and the bustle were normal. Ronon looked up toward Woolsey’s office, where Sheppard was arguing something, arms waving. Sheppard was back to normal, too, and that was good. It had been a little surprising how hard being grounded had hit him—except, Ronon thought, that if I was going back to that family I wouldn’t have been happy either.

  The transporter beam sparkled behind him, and Ronon turned to see Rodney and Jennifer and a pile of what looked like random housewares appear in front of the gate. Rodney was carrying a plastic box that shook and wailed. Jennifer, looking more than usually harassed, handed him a towel. He draped it over the box, but only succeeded in muffling the noise.

  “What the hell?”

  The woman who had taken Chuck’s place frowned. “That sounded like a cat.”

  She hadn’t spoken to be overheard, but McKay looked up sharply. “No. No, no, no. No cats here.” He hurried off, box under his arm, leaving Jennifer shaking her head at the remaining crates.

  I probably ought to offer to help, Ronon thought, reluctantly, but another Marine came forward to deal with the baggage, Jennifer turning to him with a smile of relief. And that was that. Ronon turned away from the console, and nearly ran into Colonel Carter, emerging from a side corridor. She smiled and started to move past, but Ronon cleared his throat.