Or maybe he was just ashamed, period. What had he done today? What had he tried to do? Rodney was right about the disaster on 418. The safety of the off-world team had been his responsibility, and he'd let it slide because he'd just had to know what was in that facility. He'd dropped his guard, and Ronon and Teyla had paid for it.
Then he'd been so determined to give their sacrifices meaning that he'd all but ordered the science team to fry their own brains. God, what was wrong with him?
His teammates had died for nothing more than a failed mission. Two people whom he'd brought to the team, who'd stayed because they trusted him. Every week another Marine came back hurt or worse-from the Asurans, from the Wraith, from skittish natives with damned spears. No matter what he did, it kept happening, in the same old ways, and in new and terrible ways. Maybe it was unavoidable.
Or maybe his fitness to command really was eroding one casualty at a time.
He didn't know what he was doing out here. He never had. Leadership had fallen to him because of rank at first, and he'd kept it solely because no one else had any further or better experience than he did. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that such flimsy reasons weren't nearly good enough. Not when so many lives depended on making the right choices.
A wave crashed against the pier, sending saltwater spray high into the air. John turned and went back inside. The chill followed him through the corridors and into his quarters.
"Target fixation, my man," he could hear Captain Holland saying in that Midwestern drawl. One more ghost from one more choice that had failed. "Happens to the best of `em. You just gotta step back and figure out what's best for the mission. "
Sitting down at his desk, he opened the drawer and noticed the envelope still waiting inside, marked with Ford's cousin's name. He hesitated for a moment, but found that it only solidified his resolve.
Holland. Sumner. Ford. Ronon. Teyla. They were at the top, but the list went on and on.
John refused to add any more names to it.
He reached past the envelope for a pad of paper and a pen. Somehow a computer word-processing program didn't have the appropriate gravity for a letter of resignation.
Chapter nine
She heard the birdsong first, a low-pitched, melodic chatter not unlike that of the canyon gulls on Athos. Gradually she became aware of other sensations: a cool breeze across her face, a trace of moisture in the air, and pain.
Teyla stirred minutely, halting when the motion roused an insistent ache at her temple. A hand closed around her shoulder, and she forced her eyes open. Once her sight became focused, she found a concerned Satedan looming over her.
"You okay?" he asked.
"I-believe so." Aside from the vicious pounding in her head, a few cuts and scrapes appeared to be her only injuries. She began to push herself up to a sitting position, soon aided by Ronon's arm at her back. "And you?"
He shrugged. "Coat protected me from most of the flame." Crouching next to her, he pulled at his hair and examined a couple of dreadlocks that looked slightly singed at the ends. In spite of his indifferent response, she could see a patch of reddened skin on the side of his neck. "And like Sheppard keeps telling me, I have a thick skull."
It occurred to Teyla that she had no idea where they were. A rocky forest of some type, unfamiliar to her. "What happened?"
"You remember the raiders?"
Unfortunately, she did. "We were firing at their ship as it went through the gate."
"They left us a present-an explosive. Probably trying to keep us from following them. I tried to get you out of the way before it blew." Ronon's expression was rueful. "Wasn't fast enough."
"Obviously you were, since I am alive. Thank you."
He deflected her gratitude by continuing. "The blast must have knocked us through the gate just behind the raiders. Don't know if they made a mistake when they dialed, or if this was a halfway stop for them, or what, but there doesn't seem to be much of anything around. I never even saw the ship again after we got here."
Teyla scanned the area. She observed a number of massive boulders interspersed with evergreen trees, and little else. "I do not see a gate."
"It's a few paces away, on the other side of these rocks. I figured we should get out of sight in case anyone came back. It hasn't been long, but there's been no gate activity yet." He stood and stretched, his spine cracking. "Your radio got lost somewhere, and mine's broken."
"You thought it better to stay here than return to Atlantis?"
Ronon grimaced. "You're not going to like this part."
It would have served no purpose to ask what aspect of this mission she was meant to like, based on events so far. Rather than explain, he held out his canteen and a packet from the small medical kit in her vest. She swallowed the pain tablet and permitted him to pull her to her feet. "Show me."
The walk was brief, as promised, and served to clear her head somewhat. The air had a crisp, clean scent, and the continuing birdsong accompanied them. She caught sight of one of the birds at last, a blue-gray animal much more diminutive than its voice suggested.
Rounding the side of the rock face, which towered at least ten times as tall as Ronon, she drew up short in surprise.
Debris littered the ground in a wide swath that extended as far as she could see. Most of it appeared to be metal, the remnants of a great structure of some type. Unlike the Ancient facility on P7L-418, the destruction here was total. She could identify large beams among the vast spread of smaller fragments. Under a thick layer of forest growth that obscured many details, the pieces were badly warped. Clearly it had been many years since the building had collapsed.
Amid the rubble, wedged in a ravine that split the rock face, stood the Stargate. Teyla amended her mental description immediately, for `stood' was hardly an appropriate word. Despite having traveled to countless worlds, this was a circumstance she had never before witnessed. The huge gate was overgrown with so much vegetation that it was barely recognizable. She could see that it was cocked at an odd angle, tipped precariously forward-about twenty degrees off vertical, Rodney would have said. Little wonder that their arrival had been less than comfortable; the orientation of the gate must have caused the wormhole to pitch them onto the ground.
"The gate does not look like it was intentionally placed in this position," she said, choosing her footsteps with caution as she made her way through the wreckage.
"More like thrown," Ronon agreed. "I think all this junk used to be a building that housed the gate. A large one, maybe ten floors high. The gate could have fallen when it the building was destroyed and ended up like this."
With only the sides of the ravine to support the ring's considerable weight, she worried about the likelihood of somehow dislodging it. "It may not be stable."
"It's fine. I checked."
Teyla did not care to know how he had performed such a check.
"Besides, it looks like the building came down a long time ago. If the gate's stayed in place this long, it's stable."
What might this facility have been? A laboratory like the one on 418? Had it succumbed to a Wraith attack as so many others had?
There was a more immediate issue to address, Teyla realized. "Where is the dialing device?"
"Can't find one."
Her head snapped toward him, perhaps an ill-advised motion given her headache.
"I haven't covered the whole area yet." Ronon adopted a defensive tone. "I needed to make sure you were okay first."
Teyla softened her gaze. "I understand. I did not mean to question your actions." Still, the fact remained. They needed a dialer to get home, and none was apparent. "The raiders were able to dial the gate from within their ship."