"So these Ancients," Rebecca began after swallowing the last bite of her sandwich. "Despite the name, some of them still exist'? Unascended, I mean?"
"We've run into a few," John replied. "Either unascended or deascended, if that's even a word. Most of them seem to have… issues. The first one I met had been kicked off the higher plane for protecting her home planet from the Wraith. She was exiled to continue defending that planet for the rest of eternity."
"I'll bet meeting you was the excitement of the millennium for her."
"Why's that'? It's not like she'd never seen anyone with the gene before. I was just…" And then John realized he'd protested too soon. Rebecca had meant the collective `you,' not him in particular. He took a drink of his Coke while trying to figure out how to get out of the hole he'd just dug himself. Not likely; being perceptive was in her job description.
As expected, Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. "Why, John Sheppard, did you have a romantic encounter with an alien goddess?"
Great. He didn't bother trying to deny it. "Even the shrink thinks I'm Captain freaking Kirk," he muttered, reaching for his brownie.
"I didn't say that. You're not the swaggering, melodramatic type, and so far on this trip you've managed to keep your shirt in one piece" Amusement glimmered in her eyes, but she soon damped it. "Based on what I've observed and what I remember of your profile, I'd expect you to connect best with strong women. That's all."
All right, this line of discussion was a disaster waiting to happen. "New topic," he said, not bothering to attempt any kind of graceful transition. "Are you doing all right with your whole new worldview? I know you're used to dealing with a lot of weird stuff, but by any measure this is a lot to take in over a span of just a couple days."
She considered the question for a while, taking a bite of her brownie in the meantime. "Facing the unknown is something that bothers almost everyone," she answered at last. "There's a lot we don't know about the situation we're in at the moment. What keeps me from panicking, at least for now, is the fact that we seem to be making progress. I'm not offering any guarantees about how I'll fare when all this is over."
"Yeah, I think all of us will need some time to have our own private meltdowns if and when we get the chance later." He looked at her steadily, wanting her to really get the fact that she wasn't alone in this. "I said earlier that I wouldn't change where I am and what I do even if I could. That doesn't mean I don't wish certain aspects were different. After some of the things that have happened out there… let's just say I can admit to having a bad day now and then, even the occasional nightmare."
"I'm no stranger to those. Like I said earlier, there's a reason I'm no longer married." Rebecca crumpled up her food wrappers and lobbed them into a wastebasket attached to the bulkhead.
Although John didn't want to look too far down the road just yet, it seemed like the SGC could benefit from making Rebecca a permanent addition. She had the gene and the clearance, two things that didn't coincide too often, and she didn't panic when things got a little hot. "You have much family? Any kids?"
"With my job? I'm not that crazy." She finished her water. "As for family, not really. Only child, raised by my aunt, who was more Catholic than the Pope. You wouldn't have believed the whipping I got for accidentally eating a hamburger on a Friday during Lent. Funny how that method didn't exactly sell me on religion."
"You ought to meet Cam Mitchell when we get back to the SGC. Your aunt makes his grandmother sound lenient." John flashed a grin. "I can't see you being quite as bad as me as a kid, but you must have given out some gray hairs yourself."
"I don't spend time on memory lane. Not much really stands out, so there isn't any point in it." Rebecca swiftly turned the focus back to him, a tactic he probably should have expected, but also an indication that she too had a few topics she'd prefer not to dwell on. "We talked about family during your McMurdo interview, I remember. You of all people understand that not everyone gets a stereotypical Norman Rockwell childhood."
John was starting to get the feeling that, if anyone was going to squirm in this conversation, she was going to make sure it wasn't her. He was rescued from having to evade the subject by a voice from the main cabin. "Guys, I think we may have a problem."
Naturally… because God knew they didn't have any other problems at the moment.
Abandoning their drinks, John and Rebecca strode into the cabin to see Jackson standing with the datapad in hand and a deep frown etched on his face. The archeologist, radiating a fair amount of nervous tension, handed John the datapad.
With Rebecca standing at his shoulder, John peered at the screen in disbelief. Lined up and neatly categorized were images of dozens of fantastical creations. Minotaurs, harpies, vampires, satyrs, centaurs-hell, even mermaids. John whistled low and long, not trusting himself to come up with a more insightful response.
"Lilith left Morgan Le Fay in the dust," said Jackson, pulling off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. There was no doubt that he was considerably more disturbed by this new wrinkle than he'd been at any point during their getaway from Ramadi. "They're all in there. Every mythological chimera you can imagine. They existed-and may still exist."
Chapter twenty-one
The cracks in the ancient stonework dripped rank fluid, nourishing the slimy growth covering most of the roof and walls. He loathed coming to the Sanctum through this ancient qanat. He could have cared less that the superbly engineered hydraulic structures had been designed thousands of years earlier by his forefathers to carry life-giving water to the lands west of E'Din, to Syria and Israel, Jordan and Egypt. Nor did he have the slightest interest in how the technology to build the subterranean irrigation system had spread east to China along the Silk Road, and north into Bavaria, where he had entered this secret passage from the modern-day sewers of Blaubueren. It only mattered that the original builders had counted among their number other cambion like himself, those who carried the blood legacy bequeathed to them by Lilith, the Creator. As a cambion, the son of the succubus Desiderata, he had always known of this long-abandoned `back door' into the vast network of limestone caverns.
"Misbegotten spelunkers," he muttered as he wormed his way through a partially collapsed section of stonework. Thanks to a group of damned curious cavers from Munich, the pit of discarded human husks had been discovered. The entrance to the caverns that he normally used was currently crawling with Blaubueren police. Additional squads were on their way from Ulm, one of the villagers had informed him when he'd stopped at a cafe on the pretense of buying coffee. There was some talk that the American military had also been dispatched, all of which had raised the gossip level in the cafe to fever pitch.
The proprietor, a wizened woman who had recognized him as a regular visitor to the town, had confided in him that, although killing people in such a bizarre manner was not Her style, She must be responsible. It was a sign, said the old woman, that very soon the Blautopf-the sinkhole aptly named the Blue Pot-would soon boil over with Her anger, just as it had in the old days.
He didn't have to ask for details. Local folklore had it that Die Schoene Lau, the Beautiful Lady, a mermaid, had been banished into the Blautopf by the mer-king of the Black Sea. The sinkhole, with its remarkably clear turquoise waters, did indeed provide an entrance into the cave system, and the waters had certainly been home to several of Lilith's creations for centuries. However, unable to procreate, they had long since died out.
Nursing their coffees in the front seat of the truck, he and the driver had chewed over the problem for several minutes. There were already too many police for the two of them to consider a frontal assault, and that situation would not change during the night. By morning the entire place would be teeming with people. They might have been able to use fake IDs to get past, but it still would have been a risk. That had left them with only one option.