“Maybe,” she said. “But we need to pick up the pace. A lot.”
Sheppard looked along the column of trudging figures and winced. Some were children, many were old.
“I hear you,” he said. “But some of those guys are struggling. I’ll go back and help out.”
Miruva nodded. “Take care,” she said, and struggled onwards.
Ahead of them, the wind screamed. Behind, the darkness deepened, and thunder growled in the distance. The end would not be long in coming.
McKay wrapped his arms around his chest and stamped hard. The Jumper’s life support was now within operational limits, but it was still damned cold. He plugged the proximity meter into the console in the cockpit. The Ancient computer picked up Sheppard’s encoded instructions and the coordinates of Sanctuary flashed up on the screen. A stream of figures, most of them incomprehensible, ran down the HUD.
“Well, that’s a lot of use to me,” he muttered, and turned his attention to the long-range scanners.
Nothing had changed. In every direction, the weather was closing in. It was the same on every monitor. The few patches of open sky were disappearing, almost as he watched. It had a strange attraction, a macabre beauty. But it didn’t improve his mood. It wasn’t much fun watching a planet die.
He shivered, and flicked the display to the rear, back toward the Stargate. Getting the ailing ZPM hooked up had been one the worst experiences of his life. But it was ready. The gate would open, if only for a millisecond. He didn’t expect much more than that, but once the wormhole had formed, the Zelenka module should do the rest. In theory.
“John?” he said into the radio, hoping he’d still get a signal. There was nothing but static from the other end. Just as he’d expected. These weren’t ordinary storms.
The visual feed was almost as bad. Snow was everywhere and the light was failing fast. It was still early, but the weak light of the sun was already being blotted by the clouds.
“At least it’s still intact,” said McKay, before realizing he was talking to himself again. “Dammit. This isn’t healthy. They’ve got to stop leaving me on my own like this.”
The image rocked as the Jumper was buffeted by a heavy gust. McKay studied the screen intently. Had the Stargate moved? Surely not. It couldn’t have. That would be just unfair.
It moved. Gently, almost imperceptibly, it shifted down into the ice.
“No!” growled McKay, leaping out of his seat. “Not again. It was looking so much better.”
He fumbled for the rear door release mechanism, knowing that opening the Jumper up now would hurt. But the gate was their only route out and if it was going down, he needed to know about it.
The rear door swung upwards, and the wind tore into the cabin. Gritting his teeth, McKay staggered into the rear bay and out into the howling gale. The short journey to the Stargate was agonizing. Every step was like dipping his feet into liquid nitrogen. The weather was worse than it had ever been. The horizon was black on three sides, and the light from up ahead was running out fast. He swore under his breath.
“If we’ve missed our window to get off this God-forsaken rock,” he growled, “then I’ll kill him. Sanctuary or not.”
Sheppard grimaced. Behind him, the long snake of Forgotten refugees — men, women and children — toiled in the snow.
From the lowlands of the settlement area, they had passed quickly up on to the high plateau where the White Buffalo roamed. The wind continued to pick up. It became difficult to walk against it, and Sheppard found himself leaning hard into the gale. The powdery snow was churned-up from the surface in writhing curls and flew through the air in thick, cold gouts. It felt like night was falling, even though dusk was hours away.
Infants had to be carried. A group of young hunters formed a cordon around the older members of the community, trying to shield them from the full force of the growing wind. Many had to be helped along. Even after a lifetime of living in the deep freeze, some of the Forgotten looked perilously cold. Sheppard worked his way back down the column, looking for any individuals in trouble. Most were coping better than him, but for some the trek looked like a nightmare. One man was almost bent double against the searing wind. Sheppard went up to him, and put an arm under his.
“How’re you doing?” he said, as cheerily as he could.
The old man looked up sourly. With a grim inevitability, Sheppard recognized Aralen.
“Not as well as I’d like,” he said, his voice choked by the snow. His facemask had slipped slightly, revealing some of his ice-blasted face. He looked in pretty bad shape.
Sheppard propped him up as best he could, anxious that the old man should keep moving. Conditions would only get worse.
“You still think this is a mistake?” said Sheppard, raising his voice against the growing volume of the wind.
“What does it matter what I think?” he said, his voice sour. “Everything I thought was right has been turned on its head. Everything I counseled has been undermined. Even my own daughter has turned against me. There’d be no role for me in Sanctuary, even if we could get there.”
He looked up at Sheppard, and his expression was savage. “But we can’t get there, can we? We’re going to die out here. Is this what you came to do? To destroy us all?”
Sheppard was taken aback by the old man’s ferocity. He began to speak, but the wind snatched his words away. Looking into Aralen’s eyes, he began to doubt his decision. Rodney had given him the same look. And Ronon. He should have left. He should have allowed the Forgotten to make their own way to Sanctuary, on their own terms.
Above, the last patches of open sky faded. The maelstrom had closed. With it went his hopes. Without speaking further to Aralen, Sheppard slogged his way further up the line. He’d made a call, and right now it looked pretty bad. Unless they reached Sanctuary soon, they would pay for it with their lives.
Teyla awoke. Her head throbbed and she could feel pain all down her side. For a moment, she had no idea where she was. But then the memories came rushing back. She was in Sanctuary. The rock fall, Sheppard, Ronon. The sequence of events was confused and she felt a surge of anxiety. Where were the others?
Teyla raised her head, ignoring the pain. She was lying in her hut, down in the fertile plain. All around was tranquil and quiet. The light from outside was warm and soft. Inside the darkness of the small chamber, a single figure sat, waiting for her to recover.
“Miruva?” said Teyla.
“No,” came a man’s voice. “She has gone out to the surface to bring the others back. More of your friends are here. They are restoring the tunnel to the outside.”
The voice was familiar. Teyla felt a sudden tremor of alarm. “Geran?” she said. “Why are you here? My friends…”
“The one you call Ronon is securing the breach. The others have left for the settlement.” Geran’s voice was subdued. The certainty he’d displayed in the past had disappeared.
Teyla pushed herself upright. She had no idea how much time had passed, but she’d seen the holographic weather projection in the control room. If they weren’t off the planet soon, then they might never escape. “How long have I been asleep?”
Geran shrugged. “Hours. You were taken here when Miruva left.”
“Then I ask you again,” she said, her voice hard. “Why are you here?”
Geran had the decency to look ashamed. “To make amends,” he said. “I was wrong. Even I cannot believe the stories about the Underworld now. I wanted to come and say that to you as soon as I could. I am sorry.”
Teyla didn’t find the words of much comfort. “You should be sorry, Geran,” she said. “Your actions delayed me. I do not yet know what that has cost.” She started to get up. Her head throbbed and her vision was cloudy, but she could keep her feet.
“You must rest! Ronon asked me make sure you were cared for.”