“That’s not going to help Rodney,” Jennifer said.
“If I didn’t care about Rodney, I wouldn’t have agreed to do this. But he’s a good friend, and a good man, and I’m going to do everything I can — ” He broke off, wishing he was sure he could trust his voice.
“We still have your turtles,” Jennifer said, as if that weren’t a total non sequitur. “I mean, now that we have a cat, I don’t know if Rodney’s still quite as attached…”
“Well, don’t give them to me now,” Carson said. “How do you expect him to like it if he comes back and finds out that you’ve given his turtles away? He’ll be impossible to live with.”
“They’re your turtles.”
“I never actually bought the things,” Carson said.
“I suppose that was the other one of you,” Jennifer said. “I always forget.”
“Everyone does.”
“I’m really sorry,” she said, sounding like she really was. “I just want to figure this out, so that we can be sure that if we do get him back, we’re actually going to be able to get him back to… you know, our regular Rodney.”
“Frightening as that is,” Carson said, giving her as much of a smile as he could. “Well, unless they’ve come up with something immensely clever, and there’s no way of anticipating that, the process should start wearing off once they’re no longer administering their retrovirus on a regular basis. What we need is to be able to predict how his body will react to that.”
“It doesn’t seem that Michael ever entirely regained his Wraith form completely,” Jennifer said, as if reluctant to speak the words. “Of course, it’s hard to tell, once he began manipulating his own genetic structure, but…”
“We may be able to help the reversion process along,” Carson said. “You did a fine job of that with the hybrids. I wouldn’t give up hope that we’ll get our Rodney back with his body and his memory intact.” He intended to just leave it there, but Jennifer’s sharp eyes must have caught something in his expression.
“What?”
“Don’t expect this to be easy for him to put behind him. Especially if he’s actually had to feed on a human being.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“We have no reason whatsoever to think that it won’t. Except that we don’t like to think about it, but if we don’t think about it, who will? You heard Colonel Sheppard on the subject. It’s not something he can let himself imagine. But it’s part of being a doctor to face the hard truths.”
“I know that,” Jennifer said. “Believe me, I get to do enough of that in this job.”
“I know you do,” Carson said. “And I shouldn’t take my bad temper out on you. I probably should take myself to Dr. Robinson about some of this, although I’ve been trying to give her time to get settled in before making her deal with a story that begins ‘to start with, I still have some complicated feelings about being a clone’.”
“She used to work for the SGC back on Earth. It’s probably not the weirdest thing she’s ever heard,” Jennifer said.
Carson shook his head. “It won’t be for long if she keeps working here.”
Quicksilver dreamed he was pursued, and then pursuing, changing roles with a fluency that told him he was asleep, even though he could not seem to wake. Sometimes it was the Lanteans who pursued him, the one he had stunned, the big barbarian who had guarded the door, the tiny dangerous one, and then again it was his lab assistants, ringing him in, feeding hands outstretched, while Ember turned his back and Dust laughed. He fled from his brother in a fever of fear, through the corridors of the hive, and metal halls, down stairs that gleamed bronze in the light that fell from tall and narrow windows.
And then quite suddenly he came through metal doors — metal doors familiar in a way that seemed different, as though he had once known them well — ugly heavy things painted with numbers half as tall as he was that lifted away to reveal a room filled with screens and consoles. Beyond a huge window stood a Stargate, quiescent, all its symbols dark. He needed to dial the ship, needed to dial home, and he went unerringly to a keyboard. It was not a proper device, not the Ancients’ work, but he knew it would do the job.
“Rodney.”
He looked over his shoulder, startled, to see the dark-haired queen behind him, her arms folded across her chest.
“You don’t want to do that,” she said.
“I have to,” he answered. “I have to go home.”
“No,” she said.
“But I do.” He looked down at the screen again, frowning, feeling his way into a system that wasn’t the gate after all. “It’s vital.”
“It’s a very bad idea.”
He could hear something like sorrow in her voice, but didn’t turn to see. On the screen, the numbers shifted, changing like a flower unfolding —
“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked.
“Of course I am,” he answered. “Why wouldn’t I? I need to go home.”
“Then come with me.”
Quicksilver looked up, startled, and they were suddenly in front of the gate, on the metal ramp that led up to its opening. His feet echoed, clumsy, but hers made no sound.
“I believe I should say something cryptic,” she said, “but it seems — pointless. Are you sure you want this?”
“Yes! Of course!” Quicksilver glared at her, looked up at the gate and its darkened symbols. “Of course I do.”
“Very well.”
She gave him a tight, unfriendly smile, and turned away. Abruptly, there were shapes behind the glass, figures moving, a fair-haired woman bent over the control console, and the gate ground into motion, the first symbol lighting. Quicksilver started to take a step back, to get out of the way of the expanding wormhole, but his feet wouldn’t move. He looked down, saw that he was wearing magnetic boots.
“Hey! Hey, I’m down here — ”
He pulled harder, rocked his right foot from side to side the way he’d been taught, but the connection was too strong. A second symbol lit and locked, and a third.
“Hey! Stop!”
The people in the control room ignored him utterly, as though he didn’t exist for them at all. He bent down, fumbling for the catch that closed the boots — the fourth symbol was locked now — and found nothing but smooth plastic. The gate turned, lighting the fifth symbol, moved smoothly toward the sixth. He flung himself forward with all his strength, trying to break the seal, but he remained locked in place. The sixth symbol lit.
“Oh, no,” he said. “No, no, no — ”
The seventh symbol locked. He closed his eyes tightly, but the light engulfed him anyway, scalding cold, consuming him —
He woke, mouth open, suspecting that he had screamed. Sure enough, Ember was bending over him, half dressed, hair in wild disarray. His pupils were huge in the dim light, and he looked almost afraid himself.
*Quicksilver,* he said. *Are you all right?*
*No, I — * Quicksilver stopped, the dream memories slotting into place, driving back the terror. *Yes. Oh, yes! We have to go to the labs.* He swung himself out of the nest, reaching for the tunic he had left on the floor. *I remember — I remember many things, Ember.*
*Do you indeed?* There was an odd note in Ember’s mind, gone before Quicksilver could define it. *It’s the middle-night watch, Quicksilver. Only the most junior clevermen will be there.*
Quicksilver waved his hand in dismissal. *I don’t need them. I just need a computer.* He glared at the other cleverman, for the first time in many days feeling almost himself. *Will you hurry? No one’s going to care about your hair.*
Ember blinked, showed teeth, but then controlled himself. *I will come,* he said.