“Yeah, I know. Wouldn’t be easy, even in good weather.” Carter cupped a hand over her eyes and frowned up into the scudding grey. “We certainly picked a day for this, didn’t we?”
“Bracing,” he grinned. “Come on. You can’t tell me you’re not looking forward to this just a bit.”
“I’m not sure that’s the phrase I’d use.” The wind gusted, and Carter ducked slightly in the face of it. “John, I’ve been over your reports — to be honest, in the past couple of weeks I’ve not done much else. But what I mean is, there’s a precedent for this, and it’s not a good one.”
“Ellis could be wrong.”
“Ellis isn’t saying anything, one way or the other. He’s being cagey, and I don’t blame him. But what if it’s true? What happens then?”
“I guess we’ll find out before long.” He shrugged. “Hey, how bad could it be?”
Carter narrowed her eyes. “Did I ever tell you how much I hate it when you say things like —?” She stopped. There was a sound, faint, a wasp-whine at the edge of hearing, almost lost to the wind. Carter tilted her head, trying to place it. “Do you hear that?”
Sheppard straightened. “I hear it. I just don’t believe it.”
The sound grew suddenly louder, and as Carter looked up to track it she saw an irregular fragment appear below the clouds. A moment later it was gone, obscured by grey, but it returned just as quickly, bobbing slightly as it approached.
“Oh my God,” breathed Sheppard. “They’re actually doing it. The crazy sons of bitches are actually doing it!”
He sounded amazed, and not a little horrified. Carter didn’t quite understand. “You knew they were going to do this.”
“No I didn’t! I thought they were just going to beam it in…” He pointed, as if unable to believe that the shape above them was actually there. “What are they, insane?”
Carter gaped. “This was your idea!”
“It was my plan B, okay?”
“I guess they never got that focusing problem sorted out.” The sound of the approaching puddle jumpers wavered abruptly, and Carter snapped her gaze back up to find them again. Her heart was drumming in her chest. “Come on,” she whispered into the wind. “You can do this…”
The jumpers were close enough to see clearly now, three of them, coming in obliquely to the tower. They flew in tight formation, with barely a few meters between those on either side and the third vessel keeping slightly to the rear. And between them, webbing the three vessels together, were black threads against the grey sky; a haphazard tangle of steel cable.
The golden ship, Abe Ellis’ prize, was slung between the three jumpers.
Even from this distance, Carter could see that the little cluster of ships was frighteningly unstable. The cables between the three jumpers were tough, heavy-duty woven steel, but their strength was finite. If any of the active ships went more than a meter or so out of formation, the cables would simply shear through. At best, the golden vessel would be dumped into the sea, but it was far more likely that such an event would cause catastrophic damage to some or all of the ships involved.
And yet, despite the shifting weight of their cargo and the battering they were taking from the elements, the three puddle jumpers were keeping it together.
A few hundred meters out they turned directly towards the tower, losing height all the way in. When the reached a level with the balcony Carter saw the golden ship rise a little as the formation spread out and the cables stretched, but then the pilots bunched their ships close again and once more the prize dangled like an orange in a mesh bag.
“I can’t look,” said Sheppard, not taking his eyes off them.
“They will take the crosswinds into account, won’t they?” In bad weather, the upper levels of the tower could be prey to some vicious and unpredictable changes in wind direction. Carter knew enough about puddle jumpers to realize that one of the ships on its own wouldn’t even notice atmospheric conditions, unless it was flying through a tornado. But three of them tied together and hauling several tons of inert spaceship about were a very different story.
“Sure they will,” Sheppard replied, sounding unconvinced. “I taught them everything they know.“
The jumpers lurched sideways.
There was an angry twanging sound, almost drowned out by the sudden rise in engine pitch as the three vessels struggled to keep together. The jumper on the left twisted, dipped as the wind caught it, and Carter gasped as a cable snapped free. The golden ship — now almost directly below the balcony on which she and Sheppard were standing — bobbed wildly.
The formation hung agonizingly in the air, engines whistling, and then as one they darted forwards into the tower and out of sight.
There was a moment’s pure, open silence.
And then a heavy, complicated sound, multiple impacts of metal, a shrill, short cacophony of scraping. Distant shouts.
Sheppard winced. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“No sirens, no explosions…” Carter smiled. “Good enough.”
As she spoke, her headset crackled into life. “Colonel?”
That was Palmer, one of the control room techs. “What is it?”
“Unscheduled gate activation, Colonel. It’s the IOA.”
“That was fast. Okay, I’ll be right up.” Carter made a face. “Our master’s voice.”
“Okay then…” Sheppard squared his shoulders and turned to go back into the tower. “You know, I’m still not sure if I’m going to buy Lorne a drink or have him committed.”
“After that?” Carter’s eyebrows went up into her hairline. “He’s a genius.”
“He’s insane.”
With the Stargate activated, a wormhole was forged between two galaxies. Across three million light years, radio signals streamed through the event horizon and brought the face of Richard Woolsey to Atlantis.
He was just settling himself in front of the camera. In her office, standing in front of the wallscreen on which his magnified image was being displayed, Carter watched as Woolsey sat down, straightened his tie, and leaned forwards to adjust his glasses in the reflection from a display that was obviously not switched on yet.
Carter gave Sheppard a sideways look. “Don’t,” she mouthed.
“What?” he replied soundlessly. He was trying not to smile.
The view tilted for a second, then stilled. Woolsey frowned and nodded to someone out of shot, presumably the tech who had moved the camera. Then, after the faint beep of a monitor being switched on, Woolsey saw that he was being watched.
“Ah, Colonel!” His smile switched on like a lamp. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Likewise,” lied Carter.
In truth, she didn’t dislike Woolsey. He had a tendency to meddle, certainly; to assume greater knowledge of a situation than he actually possessed, and occasionally to panic at the worst possible time. But he was a man of some integrity, and had proved himself to be at least nominally on the side of the angels.
No, this wasn’t personal. It was simply that the feeling of being supervised by a civilian committee, especially one so distant, made her slightly uncomfortable. Carter was used to taking orders from people who were either of a higher military rank, or in what she regarded as a justifiable position of authority. The International Oversight Advisory was neither.
On a good day, they were merely ineffectual. But there had been times when their vacillations had made them a dangerous liability.
Still, while Carter had no time for the kind of political games that fuelled the IOA, she knew the rules off by heart. So she put on a smile, dipped her head ever so slightly forwards, and said: “Always a pleasure, Mr Woolsey. Of course you know Colonel Sheppard.”
“Indeed I do,” replied Woolsey. Somewhat warily, Carter thought. “I was told Colonel Ellis would be here too?”
“Colonel Ellis will be joining us shortly, Mr Woolsey. In the meantime —”