"In the three seconds since it powered up, I'm supposed to have catalogued its contents?" Trying very hard to forget the fact that he might also have acquired unwanted Wraith genes, Rodney reached out to press another key-but was interrupted by a static-laced call.
"Major," reported Lieutenant Bailey. "Got… situation here."
Standing in the open doorway, Lome tapped his radio. "Wildlife starting to worry you, Lieutenant?"
"Not that kind… situation, sir. Some kind of force field just popped… around…Stargate."
Rodney jerked his hand back from the console even before Radek's head swung toward him. Off, he thought hurriedly.
The terminals stayed active.
Well, crap.
Chapter twelve
Cheyenne Mountain, while an ideal location for a topsecret military program, lacked a couple of things most people would consider key features of an Air Force installation: aircraft and a runway. John had always done his best to not hold that against the place. Tonight, it meant that they'd needed to take a ride across town to Peterson Air Force Base in order to catch their flight.
Stepping out of the car next to the base's Operations building, he felt the evening mountain wind slice through his clothes. The snow flurries were also coming down with more vigor than before. Desert camouflage BDUs, unsurprisingly, weren't the warmest gear around, but he'd gotten used to a little cold in Antarctica. In front of him, Rebecca had put on her wool coat over the BDUs she'd gotten on loan from a member of SG-7. Five yards ahead of both of them, Jackson walked briskly toward the waiting plane, oblivious to the white flakes settling in his hair.
Rebecca waited and fell into step with John. "Sounds like there may be some related cases in Iraq after all."
"I'm sure the coalition leadership would like to see us prove that those civilian deaths were due to something other than white phosphorus." They'd been briefed in the car about their cover story for the visit, which wasn't really a cover at all. On and off for the past couple of years, there had been allegations that the coalition had killed Iraqi civilians through the use of white phosphorus weapons against insurgents. The U.S. Army maintained that the incendiary WP had been used primarily for illumination, not as an antipersonnel weapon; still, the burned bodies offered damning evidence, despite the fact that most of them had been found inside undamaged buildings with no trace of burning anywhere nearby. Since the condition of those bodies closely resembled that of the purported cult victims in Colorado Springs and elsewhere, they had good reason to investigate them. If that gave Jackson an opportunity to hunt down whatever information he needed in Baghdad, well, that was just convenient.
"Of course, if we can prove that some kind of alien influence caused those deaths, the white phosphorus explanation actually might be more palatable to all concerned," Rebecca pointed out.
"That's above our pay grade." John lengthened his stride to catch up with the archeologist. "So. What's in Baghdad?"
"More than you can imagine." Jackson started to climb the stairs that led onto the aircraft. "Before I was approached to join the Stargate program, I spent a considerable amount of my postdoctoral fellowship at the Iraq National Museum. They have-or had, prior to the lootings in 2003 — the single finest collection of Mesopotamian historical documents in the world."
Following him up, John stepped onto the C-20. All of his previous MILAIR flights had involved a webbed foldout seat in the aft section of a noisy, frigid transport, so he could see why these jets were used for `distinguished visitors.' The cabin layout made the most of its space, the plush seats oriented to allow passengers to face each other. "And we need something out of Mesopotamian history?"
Jackson nodded, selecting a seat on the left side of the cabin as if it were his accustomed spot-which, John mused, it might well be. "The first recorded reference to Lilith, also known as Lilitu or Ninlil, appears in Gilgamesh."
A shuffling thud behind John caused him to turn around in the aisle. Rebecca had stumbled over the raised threshold of the aircraft door and caught herself on the bulkhead. Flushing slightly, she raised her head and covered her misstep by joining the conversation. "I've read Gilgamesh, more than once. It's the cornerstone of most UFO cults. They view it, along with Genesis 6, as a literal history of warring alien gods com ing to Earth and creating mankind…" Chewing her lower lip, she offered them a weak shrug. "At least put my mind at ease and tell me Elvis isn't really alive and well and on another planet."
"No, he's not," Jackson replied. "Alec Colson is, though."
Her grin vanished when Jackson continued without missing a beat, "The Gilgamesh is a literal history; just one that was interpreted by writers of that period in the best way they could comprehend."
While John stowed his duffel and claimed a seat across the aisle, Jackson gave their FBI colleague an understanding smile. "That's all anyone, in any era, can hope to accomplish."
"I suppose" Rebecca slid into the rear-facing seat across from John.
"Gilgamesh documents the Ancients' arrival on Earth, among other things," Jackson continued. "Based on what Vala and I learned from Morgan le Fay-"
"Morgan le Fay," repeated Rebecca, looking as though she didn't have enough energy left to react with surprise one more time. "As in Merlin's nemesis'?"
"That's the one, although it turns out she was actually protecting Merlin. That's neither here nor there at the moment. The epic of Gilgamesh appears to explain the fate of several Ancients, both in Atlantis and on Earth. Specifically, Gilgamesh built a sanctuary for Ninlil, as Lilith was called in the Babylonian text, in the city ofUruk after she was banished `from the heavens'. Which presumably refers to her escape through the Stargate from Atlantis."
Since Jackson seemed oblivious to the fact that he'd figuratively left his audience in the dust, John spoke up. "Not to call attention to my ignorance or anything, but can someone tell me who this Gilgamesh was?"
The aircrew secured the cabin door, and before long the whine of an idling turbofan engine could be heard. "A Sumerian king," Jackson answered. "Sumer was in the south ern region of Mesopotamia, now Iraq. Uruk is known today as Warka."
"There can't be much left of the original city after ten thousand years."
"I don't expect so, especially since Lilith must have left or been run out by the other Lanteans." Jackson clicked his seatbelt into place, prompting the others to do likewise. "Based on later texts, it appears she fled to Egypt, where she continued her genetic experiments. In fact, that might explain some of the chimeras that Ra had in his service, at least for a time."
As the aircraft taxied into position on the runway, John reached into his pocket and withdrew a package of cookies. At Rebecca's raised eyebrow, he held it out to her, but she shook her head.
"Hey, half my blood's back in the SGC infirmary," he defended. He was pretty sure Lam could test him for every known ailment under several systems' suns with the number of samples she'd taken. Besides, he'd never gotten his share of the Oreos Rodney had scavenged out of the storeroom, and he suspected it hadn't been an oversight on his friend's part. Just for that, he'd asked for lemonade when the medical techs had offered him something to drink. Sure, it was winter, but he liked lemonade, and for once Rodney wasn't around to screech about its toxic qualities.
The acceleration of the jet pushed John back into the wellpadded seat, and he watched as the lights of the Peterson flight line whizzed past before shrinking below them. When his cookie was gone, he turned his head toward Jackson. "I understand that the investigation into the potential victims in Iraq gives us an opening to do some poking around over there, but couldn't you get everything you need out of this book about Gilgamesh without wandering into a war zone'?"