By the time he stepped into the gate-room, John felt about ready to crawl out of his skin. Adrenaline, primed for a potential rescue mission, battled with a gnawing fear he wasn't ready to acknowledge. "A little help, please," he called to the security team on duty. In response, two Marines moved to take the wounded corporal off his hands just as Carson and a medical team arrived.
John immediately bounded up the stairs to the control room, aware that Rodney was right on his heels. "So what's the problem with a concussive effect on an open wormhole?" he wanted to know.
Rodney's expression as he sat down at the dialing computer was grim. "Believe it or not, a large enough force applied at exactly the wrong moment can shift the wormhole's matter stream. Some years ago, SG-1 was in transit when an active gate was struck during an attack. Half the team was bounced accidentally to Earth's second gate in Antarctica, before anyone even knew the second gate existed."
"So Ronon and Teyla might have ended up at another destination altogether?" That didn't sound like an impossible obstacle. "Then they can just dial back here."
"Not necessarily. Not if they didn't make it very far to begin with." Rodney uploaded the data from his scanner, wholly focused on the console in front of him. "On first glance, the data I grabbed from the DHD on 418 seems to suggest that, when the wormhole's stability was disrupted, it almost folded back in on itself."
"Almost? We know they weren't bounced back to through the planet's gate."
"Physically impossible, since the matter stream only flows one way." Rodney's tone grew subdued. "What's the next closest gate?"
Suddenly the fear pulled ahead of the adrenaline. His stomach in freefall, John asked, "You think-?"
A defiant glower cut him off. "I don't want to think anything until I know."
The control room personnel had backed off to give them space. John spotted Wen and figured he must have explained the situation. A painful silence settled over the room for a few drawn-out seconds. At last, Rodney lifted his head, looking utterly defeated.
"It's confirmed," he said quietly. "The data says the matter stream was reflected back to PM-418. The shock wave must have bounced them to orbital gate."
No.
Shutting his eyes against a rush of emotion he couldn't afford, John forced himself to think. This wasn't over, damn it. He spun toward the gate tech hovering nearby. "Call upstairs and have Jumper One preflighted ASAP."
"Yes, sir," the tech answered automatically.
The command shook Rodney out of his daze. "What do you expect to accomplish with that?"
"Do whatever you have to do to make sure the wormhole connects to 418's space gate." John headed for the stairway to the jumper bay. "I'm not abandoning our people."
"Abandon-Colonel, did you forget how this works? If we dial 418 right now, whatever we send through will go to the ground gate. I can't override the planet's dialing system without expending a lot of time and complex effort. I certainly can't replicate the original shock wave with any degree of precision. We'd have to fly up to orbit and locate the space gate by jumper, and I think you know as well as I do how long that would take."
Too long for two people exposed to the vacuum of space to survive. John stopped on the third stair. He had to face facts; it had been too long already.
But if the Pegasus Galaxy had taught him anything, it was that exceptions and unexpected outcomes were a way of life.
Carson chose that moment to enter the control room, setting his medkit on a chair. "Adams and Pratt will be fine," he reported. "Would someone care to tell me how they acquired burns and shrapnel wounds?"
"Teyla and Ronon are dead," Rodney answered bluntly. "The same explosion that injured the Marines knocked them through the gate to 418's orbital address. They're floating around the planet like so much space junk, and yet Sheppard seems to think we can magically rescue them."
"I didn't say that." John stepped back into the room and turned away from the doctor's obvious shock, trying to get a handle on just what he was really trying to do. "I said we don't leave people behind."
"Not when we can help it, no. Unfortunately, there are some rules even you can't break. The best result we can hope to achieve now is recovering the bodies." Rodney stood up from the computer and folded his arms. "Carson, care to help me out here?"
Clearly still coming to grips with the awful truth, Carson took a hesitant step forward. "Colonel, maybe you'd better let me have a look at that arm."
Not comprehending, John glanced down. A five-inchlong hole had been scorched into his left sleeve, a patch of skin blistering underneath. It stung, now that he noticed it, but not badly. Not anywhere near badly enough to distract him from this.
He shrugged out of his jacket to let Carson work and continued to argue his point. "We haven't even checked to make sure the city database was accurate."
"Accurate?" Rodney repeated. "When has the database ever had a typo?"
"It doesn't always have complete information," John insisted, hearing the weakness of his argument all too clearly. "This gate might be set up differently, or-"
"Just what do you think we're going to find out there? Candy Land? The records were very detailed on what happened during the battle for P7L-418. There's enough debris in orbit that you'll have to be extremely cautious about our approach to avoid crashing into a derelict ship." Rodney's hand flew up as if to block John's imminent protest. "And before you say we could utilize the jumper's shield, understand that you'll need to deactivate said shield while recovering the bodies, which may be a difficult proposition amid the wreckage. Keep in mind also that you'll have to do some sensor sweeps to figure out exactly where in orbit the gate is."
Rubbing tired eyes, Rodney concluded, "I've been working through the various scenarios ever since I realized the situation, Colonel. Believe me, I've already grasped at every straw within reach. This isn't something we can resolve simply by thinking harder, and it certainly can't be resolved by rushing in blindly. Everything I just described will take time to plan and set up. No matter which way we approach it, this is a recovery mission, not a rescue.
How could he accept that? John got in Rodney's face, yanking his half-bandaged arm out of Carson's grip in the process. "Don't just stand there and tell me it can't be done. Find away!"
Bristling, Rodney fired back. "What, so if I acknowledge reality, that somehow means I care about Ronon and Teyla less than you?"
"Both of you, stop it," ordered Carson with a vehemence he rarely showed. It made an impact; Rodney's mouth snapped shut. With that hard set of his jaw, his own sadness and frustration became visible at last.
The doctor finished bandaging John's forearm before speaking again, more gently. "Listen to yourself, John. What are you really hoping to find?"
"I don't know! But what's our alternative? Just let them go, forget about them?"
"Forget about them, certainly not," Carson replied, his voice solemn. "Let them go… aye, lad. I'm afraid so."
John scrubbed a hand over his jaw, fast running out of rational points to make. Hell, he was starting to run out of irrational ones. All he had-all he knew-was the fact that his teammates were out there, and it went against everything he held fundamental to leave them, whether for an hour or forever, where they lay.
Where his mistake had led them. He'd sent Rodney's group off unarmed, and this was the result.
"God damn it," he whispered.
The control room seemed frozen in place. Finally, the tech ventured, "Sir, Jumper One is preflighted and ready for deployment."
Only Carson and Rodney dared to watch him for a reaction. Rodney's chin jutted out in challenge, while Carson's eyes reflected concern and sorrow.