"Pretty mind-blowing to think that the light we're seeing from Pegasus actually originated at those stars over a million years ago." John sat back and took his hands off the controls for a moment. "With a strong enough telescope, we could park here and watch history unfold in both galaxies. We'd see Atlantis in its heyday, and the first humans figuring out the concept of tools…"
Catching himself, John shook off the philosophical reverie. He reached over to input the next gate address with one hand and initiated the multi-gate autodial program with the other. Waxing lyrical wasn't usually his style. Being yanked back from the edge of death twice in one day had brought him more up close and personal with the idea of mortality than he'd bargained for. As for Rebecca… He couldn't decide whether to pity her or be in awe of her existence. In either case, she was no longer the woman he'd thought he'd come to know.
After all that had happened and all that was still to come, maybe he'd just needed to find a little perspective.
Rodney suddenly turned toward him, his grin so blinding and out of place that John was instantly wary.
"You're freaking me out. What is it?"
The grin became calculating. "You've just given me an idea."
Chapter thirty-six
Elizabeth stood up from her desk and stretched, in a vain attempt to chase out the tension in her shoulders. Across the walkway in the control room, Woolsey was standing at the railing with Rodney, apparently trying to ignore the resentment of the technicians around him. She hadn't been surprised by the IOA's insistence on having one of their representatives witness the neutralization of M1M-316, but she had felt compelled to warn Woolsey that the expedition was unanimous in its vehement opposition to the action. All of them had been touched in some small way by the empathy of the microceratops during their brief visit, and no one wanted to see the animals summarily killed.
Rodney had written a persuasive-and detailed, at two hundred pages-report on the impracticality of using a pair of Stargates to link 316's sun to the nearest black hole. Firstly, they would have to deposit a gate close enough to the black hole for the link to work. Even supposing that such a highly dangerous mission could be undertaken successfully, the resultant supernova would not only destroy Ml M-316 but also emit an extraordinary amount of the plutonium isotope Pu-244, coincidentally annihilating all life on every planet of a neighboring star system just one hundred and fifty lightyears away.
The report had been worded with such a liberal-even by Rodney's usual standards-amount of hyperbole that the IOA, accustomed to almost instantaneous travel across millions of light years, had failed to note a minor element: the light from the supernova would take one hundred and fifty years to reach the unsuspecting and very human inhabitants of that system, and the dangerous isotope, considerably longer. In Elizabeth's eyes, genocide was genocide regardless of how long it took, and since the 10A s definition of that term seemed to hinge on the victims being human, Rodney had made sure to imply that the committee members would be risking a trip to the Hague if they ordered such an action. Lest anyone accuse the expedition of stalling the inevitable, he'd smoothly offered a counterproposal involving a naquadah- enhanced nuclear bomb.
Andnow the IOAhad taken them upon that, even suggesting that this act would cement the expedition's role as a critical component of Earth's homeworld defense. How quickly some things changed.
Here goes. Elizabeth strode across the walkway to join Rodney and Woolsey.
"How did this alternative proposal come about?" Woolsey was asking, as he feigned obliviousness at the frost in the room.
"Actually, it was the result of a failed test undertaken by Colonel Carter back in 2001, during General Bauer's brief tenure in command of the SGC." While Rodney was at least willing to speak to their visitor, his features were set in hard, sharp lines. "A naquadah-lithium hydride enhanced nuclear weapon set up a chain reaction on a planet whose surface held traces of naquadah in about the same proportion as the soil samples we took from M1M-316. The bomb you're about to send will make the surface of 316 completely uninhabitable for the next eighty-one million years."
Woolsey gave a weak, false-sounding chuckle. "You say that as if you're expecting me to push the button myself."
Elizabeth folded her arms. "We've made our position clear on this matter," she told him. "If the IOA wants to turn 316 into a giant ball of superheated plasma, that's certainly their prerogative. But we're not going to do it for you." She favored him with an equally false expression of innocence. "Besides, I assume you'll want to report back that you personally confirmed the elimination of the threat. What better way to do that than to send the weapon and check the results for yourself?"
Backed into a figurative comer, Woolsey looked uneasy. Still, he lifted his chin and nodded, stepping up to the dialing computer. "Give me the address of the planet, please."
With a glare that could have melted steel, Radek tapped a command into the computer, and the requested address appeared on the screen. Woolsey input each symbol in careful succession, and the gate opened. Mounted on a MALP, looking far too small and simple for a weapon of such magnitude, the bomb trundled through the event horizon.
On the control room screen, the now-familiar landscape of MlM-316 appeared. After a few seconds, a slight bluish shimmer signaled the MALP's passage through the force field surrounding the gate. A massive torosaurus lumbered past the camera, and a pair of childlike microceratops ran up to the MALP, inspecting it curiously. In the distance, Elizabeth could see a group of quetzalcoatlus flying past a breathtaking waterfall. It was the very picture of tranquility, and the very antithesis of the sleek silver weapon that now lay in its midst. How had the sentient raptors described manufactured objects? Dead things? And the bringer of death…
Summoning her resolve, Elizabeth turned to Woolsey. "Is there something you're waiting for?" she asked coldly.
Woolsey glanced around. A crowd had gathered in and around the gate room, in alcoves and on balconies. Everyone stared at him with open hostility. John, Ronon, and Teyla had appeared on the walkway, their expressions only marginally less scathing than that of Dr. Geisler, who'd arrived with them. In the control room, many of the technicians were holding back tears.
His jaw, flexing, Woolsey pressed the button.
The MALP's onboard camera swiveled to face the bomb's digital timer, which began a countdown sequence. When the timer reached the final second, the gate shut down.
From the back of the control room, a murmured prayer could be heard.
Before a startled Woolsey could ask about the shutdown, Rodney said, "Safety measure. The last time we used a bomb like this, the Stargate on the planet in question wasn't destroyed, and the feedback through the wormhole almost blew up Earth's gate, titanium iris and all. Atlantis's shield is considerably stronger, but all the same it's not really worth the risk. We'll dial back to make our confirmation in an hour."
"Just as well," Woolsey said quietly. "No one should have to bear witness to what we just did."
Elizabeth supposed she shouldn't have been surprised to hear his remorse. It wasn't as if he was truly heartless-merely caught in a difficult position and doing what he felt was necessary.
Woolsey raised his voice to address the assembled crowd. "I understand your strong feelings on this matter. This decision wasn't made without difficulty or conflict, but it was determined to be the best option to protect our world. I hope that one day you'll be able to believe that."
As expedition members began to disperse back to their duty stations, he turned to Elizabeth. "I believe it would be best if I return to Earth as soon as possible to deliver my report "