It made sense, she realized partway through. The Daedalus had left Earth with the medals over two weeks ago. The ship must have been at the edge of the galaxy when Travis was killed. Red tape never could keep up with the fickle hand of fate.
It was a hell of a way to end a ceremony, but Travis had been a good guy and a good Marine. They owed him this much.
Lifting her gaze from the podium, she finished the well-known citation from memory and refused to change it to the past tense. "The distinctive and life-saving actions of Corporal Travis reflect great credit upon himself and the United States Marine Corps."
There was silence for a few seconds. It felt appropriate.
After the Colonel dismissed the formation, the gateroom cleared out rapidly. "Nice job today," he told Laura. "Sorry about that last one. I should have warned you it was in there."
"No sweat, sir. I'm glad he got it."
Sheppard picked up the small, flat case that held the unclaimed medal, weighing it in his hand. "Can't escape stuff like this, I guess, but damn if it doesn't drive me nuts."
Whether he was referring to the posthumous commendation or the ugliness of the overall situation with the Asurans, Laura couldn't tell. Not sure how to respond to her CO's uncharacteristically somber mood, she searched for something innocuous to say. "So…when do we get to the fun part of mail call?"
That seemed to do the trick. "Patience is a virtue, Lieutenant," Sheppard replied with a hint of a smile. "We just scheduled a new mission, so it'll probably be as soon as we get back. Unless everybody's in junk food withdrawal and can't suck it up for another day or two?"
Exaggerating her sigh, Laura grinned back. "Anything for the Corps, sir…"
"Beat it, Cadman."
"Aye, sir." She took the stairs up past the control room and headed for her quarters, hoping that the strain she'd noticed in the Colonel was a temporary condition. He was a good commander, and she wouldn't have wanted to serve under anyone else, but all the rock-and-a-hard-place decisions and steady losses had to be tough to weather.
Sometimes she was damn grateful to be a lowly lieutenant.
Chapter two
"Rise and shine, campers." Strolling into the control room, John dropped his field vest beside the dialing computer. "It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood."
"By whose criteria?" Rodney muttered, head propped on his elbow, which in turn was propped on the database console. Elizabeth hid a sympathetic smile, knowing it would only encourage him. She'd already heard his tale of woe regarding a power fluctuation in the labs that had taken, by his probably-inflated estimation, half the night to isolate and repair. But he'd gotten the mandatory eight hours of pre-mission `crew rest' and was bravely soldiering on. "And who put happy juice in your coffee?"
"I'm high on life," John replied amiably. "It's mission day. I'm always in a good mood until somebody starts shooting at me."
"And this time we have a chance of finding something to shoot back with." Ronon stepped into the room, one stride behind Teyla.
"That, too."
Elizabeth tried to clamp down on the twinge of unease their comments produced. She wasn't naive; she recognized that they couldn't afford to be pacifists out here. Diplomacy was a potent tool, but it held little power when one side had considerably more to gain by taking than talking. The Stargate program on Earth had been formed chiefly to combat the reach of the Goa'uld through any and all available means. This situation was no different.
Still, she'd always told herself that the expedition had a strong moral compass. Each time they went searching for guns instead of books or tools, she felt like their needle slipped a bit further off true north.
"All right, let's get started before one of you gets the urge to do jumping jacks or something." Rodney pushed himself off the console. "First things first. We have two gate options for P7L-418."
"Two Stargates?" Teyla's forehead creased. "I have not yet encountered a world with more than one."
"We have-Earth. Until a few years ago, that is." Their chief scientist appeared to lose focus for a moment. "It was quite a trick to move a gate like that and detonate it in deep space," he recalled somewhat wistfully. "I wasn't entirely confident that we could pull it off, especially under the time constraint, but with a 747, an X-302, and the briefest hyperspace window known to-"
"How about you tell us what's behind door number one and door number two, Monty?" John broke in.
His mouth snapping shut, Rodney glared and then waved a hand at Elizabeth. She supposed the gesture was meant as an invitation, though it easily could have meant I give up you deal with him.
"Yesterday morning, I helped Dr. Baker finish translating the main records relevant to P7L-418," she began, leaning over Rodney's shoulder to type a file request into the computer. The wall screen promptly came to life with a map of the star system, and she pointed to the two symbols superimposed over one planet. "There are two different gate markings. One's on the surface; the other's in orbit."
"So they had an alternate route for supplies or rein forcements." John nodded his understanding. "If the surface was overrun by the Wraith, they could escape in ships, and if there was a Wraith blockade, they could use the ground gate."
"Maybe." Rodney still sounded miffed about being yanked out of his nostalgia trip. "And if the Wraith got control of both gates?"
"Well, no plan's airtight."
"Which should we use?" Teyla asked.
"Ground gate," voted Ronon. When the others gave him odd looks, he shrugged. "The facility we're looking for is on the planet, right? Saves time."
"The database suggests that the research facility is located close to the gate, like we'd expect," Elizabeth agreed. "There's another reason to favor the ground gate, though. According to the records, the space gate was damaged. Some heavy fighting took place in its vicinity near the end of the battle, and a number of ships, both fighters and larger craft, were left derelict."
"An orbiting boneyard," John commented. "Might be worth taking a look around at some point. But as a general rule, don't use the other gate unless you're prepared to dodge space junk."
"Or end up as scattered atoms courtesy of a gate malfunction," Rodney supplied matter-of-factly. "Since a planet's gate address is determined by its location relative to various stars, both of these gates necessarily must use the same address. When Earth had two functioning gates, there was a mishap or two involving travelers being sent to the wrong gate." His fingers tapped a sharp rhythm against the console. "However, the gate with the active DHD takes priority in the system. The database specifies that the ground gate's DHD remained connected, while presumably the space gate was only engaged by a jumper's DHD when required. Given the reported damage to the space gate, we're going to the ground gate whether we like it or not."
Teyla's gaze shifted from the screen to Elizabeth. "Did the records suggest that the planet was inhabited?"
"At the time of the battle, the facility employed hundreds of people," Elizabeth answered, "both Ancient researchers and human assistants. It's not clear whether or not everyone left when the facility was abandoned."
"In our experience, the Ancients have never been all that big on taking the hired help with them when they bail out of a place," John reminded them.
"True enough." Rodney stretched his arms up over his head. "Are we ready to send the MALP planet-side, then?"
"I'd say so." Elizabeth stood back from the dialing computer as he entered the address. In the room below, points of light chased each other around the immense ring, and the event horizon flooded into being.
The MALP operator, a young engineer, had gotten this particular assignment after three different people had approached Elizabeth with tales of his skill at the video games in the rec room. He manipulated the remote-controlled probe with ease, sending it through the puddle and rotating it in the tightest circle its bulk would allow as soon as the video feed appeared on the control room monitor.