“So it didn’t work?” she said.
Zelenka shook his head.
“I believe the Stargate at the other end has not been used for a long time. Possibly hundreds of years. It may have been damaged from other source — perhaps the extreme cold. In any case, our attempt to create the wormhole placed a strain on the fragile system. Even the MALP, which has much less mass and complexity than a loaded Jumper, might have been enough to cause a failure at the other end. It seems likely that this Ancient booster mechanism was needed. Frankly, I’m surprised they got out the other end at all.”
A chill passed through her body. “But they did, right? They got out?”
“From what we can tell from the buffer records, yes. We’re working with fragments of information here, but something got them out. How…? That I don’t know.”
Questions bubbled up inside, but she kept a lid on them for now.
“When they dropped back into real space,” continued Zelenka, “there was no power left in the loop to complete the transit. We know they got through, so Rodney must have found some means of generating a little extra zip.”
“Where from?”
Zelenka shrugged. “The only source he had available was within the Jumper itself,” he said. “Propulsion systems, life support, etc. The point is, if he used those to get them out of the other end, the ship will be in bad shape. My guess is, it’s as dead as the gate.”
Weir sighed, and rolled her shoulders slightly to ease their tension. The longer this conversation continued, the worse things seemed to get.
“Right, I’m gonna need some good news now,” she said. “Give it your best shot.”
Zelenka gave a tired smile, and ran some new figures through the computer simulation.
“The best I can do is this,” he said. “We think that these Ancient devices are a means of bolstering the power to maintain wormhole integrity from within a Jumper, without risking a catastrophic drain on resources. Think of them as an extra battery, but one with a specific function. In a normal transit, the process might take fragments of milliseconds.”
This time, the bar chart on the computer monitor didn’t shrink when the sequence was run. As the power levels fell, there was a boost just when it was needed.
“If this was wired into the Jumper’s power systems,” said Zelenka, watching the dancing figures on his screen carefully, “there would have been enough energy to enable safe passage. That must have been what the Ancients were working on. A method of extending the range of gate travel from within the system. The implications of the research are impressive. Imagine, the intergalactic route could be opened-up without the use of ZPMs — ”
“I get it. Does it help us?”
“My hope is yes,” said Zelenka. “There might be some way of using the modules we have here to restore the link to Dead End.”
Weir frowned. “But I thought we couldn’t send anything through the gate? You told me we couldn’t re-establish a connection.”
“That’s right,” Zelenka admitted. “At the moment.”
Anxiety had already worn her patience thin, and Weir felt it beginning to fray. “Then perhaps we should be working on a way to do that first, rather than — ”
“Please!” Zelenka snapped. “What do you think I’m doing here? Or perhaps you have some solutions I’ve not considered. Do you?”
A shocked silence fell across the operations center. The scientists clustered around Zelenka looked away, awkward and embarrassed; no one spoke to the mission commander like that. For a moment, Weir thought about giving as good back.
She shelved that idea. The man was exhausted. “I’m sorry, Radek,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “This situation is affecting all of us, and you’ve been working hard. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to interfere.”
Zelenka drew a deep breath. “No, no, I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s been a tough puzzle to crack.” He looked over at the Ancient devices. “But I feel sure there’s something important here. If Rodney were here, he’d agree.”
Weir gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure he would. And after you’ve gotten some sleep, you can get back to work on it.”
Zelenka looked at her, briefly rebellious. But then the fight left his eyes. He was on his last legs, and he knew it. “Very well,” he mumbled. “Just a couple of hours. Then I’m back on it.”
“Good,” said Weir, looking at him with approval. “I know I can count on you.”
Teyla sprang up beside Miruva, instantly alert. She had seen this terror all across the galaxy. The faces of the people around her said one thing: cull. Had the Wraith followed them somehow? She had thought Khost was free of them.
“What is happening?” The hall had dissolved into a mass of fleeing people. The children were screaming, some of their guardians had pushed themselves up against the walls, staring wildly into space as if unseen enemies were in the air in front of them.
“There are Banshees coming!” cried Miruva, ghost-white. “We have to escape!” But she seemed paralyzed by fear and did not move.
Teyla looked around, trying to see what was causing the panic. There was nothing visible in the chamber, but the swishing sound was getting louder. Some of the Forgotten had rushed out into the corridors beyond, others stood still, awaiting their fate.
“This is no good,” muttered Teyla. “If there are Wraith here, we at least have to fight. Come with me.”
She pulled Miruva close to her, and half-jostled, half-dragged her to the chamber entrance. The girl recovered slightly and started to run alongside her.
“Where are we going?” she said, her voice clipped with anxiety.
“Back to my quarters,” said Teyla. “My weapon is there. Whatever these Banshees are, they will regret attacking this place while I was in it.”
Miruva looked doubtful, but said nothing. The two of them pushed their way back to Teyla’s quarters. The corridors were full of people running in all directions, bereft of a plan. In their fright, they were charging into each other or down dead ends. The swishing rose in volume. It was impossible to tell where it was coming from; it sounded as if it was all around them.
They reached Teyla’s room and she grabbed her P90 from under the bed. The cool weight of the submachine gun reassured her, but Miruva looked at the weapon with a horrified expression.
“What’s that?”
“Insurance,” snapped Teyla. “Tell me what you can. What are the Banshees?”
Miruva whirled around quickly. The swishing had now become painfully loud and cries of distress echoed along the corridors of the settlement. The Forgotten seemed to have lost their sense entirely.
“You can’t fight them!” cried Miruva, scampering over to the chamber entrance. “It’s no good! They just keep coming!”
Teyla gave up on Miruva and snatched her radio from her shoulder. “John, can you read me?”
Nothing. Just a hiss of static.
“John?”
Whatever else they could do, the Banshees could clearly jam her communication.
Teyla ran to catch Miruva up, her mind racing. Her Wraith-sense remained dead, which was a relief. But the panic sweeping through the Forgotten was infectious. She had to make a conscious effort to control herself. Hefting her P90 purposefully, she followed Miruva into the corridor and scoured the dim recesses of the tunnels for any sign of movement.
“What do they look like?” Teyla hissed. “What are we fighting?”
Miruva turned to face her, eyes wide and staring. “Don’t you understand?” she cried. “They look like nothing! You can’t fight them! They’re Banshees!”
Suddenly, the swishing vanished with a echoing snap. The fires in the hearths flickered and dimmed. Teyla thought she caught sight of an ephemeral shape flitting across her field of vision. She raised her gun, but it was gone. Despite herself, she felt a cold grip of fear around her stomach. How could you fight something you couldn’t see?