"You've limited your thinking to the Stargate," said Woolsey primly. "Other methods of access are possible. It's not as if the Trust hasn't found its way onto spaceships in the past."
Rodney's eyes narrowed. Someone should have warned the IOA weasel about daring to question Rodney McKay's thought processes, John thought with a flicker of spiteful amusement. Sometimes he really enjoyed watching Rodney tear into someone.
"And you've limited your thinking to this one gene," the scientist returned, his tone heavy with scorn. "As Dr. Lam pointed out at the beginning of this saga, the known genetic disorders in the human genome number in the tens of thousands. How do you compare them'? Are you absolutely certain that one of those genes won't suddenly switch on and wipe out a sizable chunk of the human population'? I would love to see the experimental results you've managed to conjure up within the last few days on that subject. You have extensively researched all of them, right'? You can say with confidence that French fries don't contain even more dioxins and triggers for cancer than the ones we already know about'? What about the observed link between soy sauce and breast cancer'? Should we send the Air Force off to blow up all the soybean fields on Earth'? Show me the research that says the Wraith gene is the biggest threat we face, please. I'm on the edge of my seat. If the IOA would occasionally extract its collective head from points south and listen to the scientists it employs, it's possible we would be able to avoid half the problems we face on a daily basis!"
Performances like that had been known to send Rodney's subordinates cowering into comers. Amazingly, and infuriat ingly, Woolsey didn't react. "This is a wholly different situation. We're talking about a known connection between the 316 ginkgoes and the gene that could turn half the human race into monsters able to feed on the other half. We have the capacity to eliminate that threat in a single operation. Dinosaurs, Dr. McKay, are not human. They became extinct sixty-five million years ago, an event which allowed humanity to be present here today. We want to ensure that remains the case"
Jackson, it seemed, wasn't ready to roll over just yet. "Has the IOA fully considered the idea that activating the gene, like the Ninlil intended, might make the human race stronger, more able to defend itself against a global attack from, say, the Orici?"
Woolsey's lips pressed together in a thin line. "It was discussed," he replied finally. "Leaving aside the risks, the logistics are too complicated. How could we even begin to prepare the public for such a massive change, both physiologically and socially?"
"Maybe now isn't the time," Jackson admitted, "but if we destroy 316, we're eliminating the possibility of ever activating the gene in the future. The risks you cite could be managed."
With a short laugh, Woolsey repeated, "Managed'? We would have people turning on each other feeding on each other."
"Do you really think the human race would descend into cannibalism just because it could?" Rodney demanded.
"You'd be surprised, and horrified, at some of the things people can and will do," Woolsey said mildly.
On that point, John couldn't dispute him.
The bureaucrat stood up. "The factors have been weighed, and the decision is final. I have a flight back to D.C."
As he strode out of the room, back rigidly straight, everyone else turned to the head of the table, their last hope for a reprieve. Landry shook his head. "This isn't something we can fight," he said simply. "You heard the man. Destroy MIM-316."
The preparations for their return to Atlantis were predictably subdued. Daniel Jackson had said his farewells to the team with an apology in his eyes. It hadn't been necessary-none of them were shortsighted enough to lump him in with the IOA simply by virtue of him being stationed on Earth-but it made John realize that his respect for the archeologist had taken a leap upward in recent weeks.
Rodney had been too despondent to bother going back to his locker for the stash of Starbucks beans left there weeks ago… until about five minutes before they were set to leave, when he abruptly changed his mind. "I'm going to need something to keep me from contemplating the futility of existence while I work on this monstrosity," he muttered, performing an about-face in the corridor. "Don't leave without me… as if you would."
John hadn't paid much attention to the ION s specific instructions for carrying out their world-killing plan. Essentially, he'd gathered, Rodney was to use a variation on the paired Stargates and black hole trick used in this galaxy once before. The end result would be the explosion of MIM- 316's sun. Just like that, they'd be the executioners of countless species-sentient species, if Teyla's report was anything to go by. Getting to sleep at night was about to become a lot tougher.
As the group continued toward the jumper bay, Teyla asked Landry, "General, with the greatest respect, how can your IOA be sure that 316 is the only planet in the Pegasus Galaxy where such an ecosystem can be found?"
Fair question. John checked Landry's expression from the corner of his eye and watched the General's features harden.
"We'll deal with that problem if and when it arises."
The other jumpers had returned to Atlantis at the conclusion of their survey duties, leaving only Jumper One wait ing for them in the preflight area. John settled into the pilot's seat and made it about halfway through his checklist before Rodney came running up the ramp, his arms full of coffee and chocolate. Dumping the goods into a mesh cargo pocket affixed to one bulkhead and closing the hatch, the scientist all but threw himself into his seat.
"Let's get this the hell over with," he said shortly. "The sooner I finish doing the IONs dirty work for them, the sooner I can take a dangerously hot shower and attempt to scrub my soul."
After checking to see that Elizabeth, Teyla, and Ronon had taken their seats, John eased the jumper up from the floor of the bay and aimed it toward the gate room. Normally he couldn't wait to get back to Atlantis after a visit to Earth, which probably said something about him that he didn't really care to contemplate too hard. Today, however, it was difficult not to approach the gate with a sense of reluctance.
"On top of being morally repugnant, this action is serving as yet another distraction from my current projects, not the least of which is my work on the city's star drive systems." Rodney drummed his fingers on the console in front of him. "While I don't have any expectation that we're actually going to need them in the near future, it's a worthwhile precaution to take, considering the fact that the Asurans are still skulking around out there. Also, I'm becoming increasingly convinced that we may run into other similar cities. Thanks to Dr. Jackson's discovery that several Babylonian cities may in fact have been named after cities in the Pegasus Gal-"
The event horizon swallowed them before he could finish, giving John a few prized moments of relative peace. When the puddle jumper emerged at the midway station of the gate bridge between the Milky Way and Pegasus, Rodney paused, momentarily disoriented. With a shudder, he said, "I am never going to get used to the sensation of being demolecularized for that long."
Outside the spartan frame of the station was the utterly barren void between galaxies, but ahead of them was the unbroken field of stars that was their destination. "I've come to enjoy this stop a bit," commented Elizabeth from behind John's seat. "Absolutely nothing else around for light years, like we're on a balance beam between two immense havens of life."