Halfway to the door, Radek stopped. "Handed? Hardly."
"I laid out every detail over the radio!" Not strictly true, but Rodney figured it was close enough for government work.
"Which would have been helpful if transmission had not been garbled to the point of being unrecognizable. As it was, I developed the solution independently."
"Oh, that's a likely story. One giant step backward for intellectual property rights. Did you forget who developed the original theory last year?"
"It was a most productive collaboration." Ignoring Rodney's indignant protest, Radek continued walking, soon disappearing into the corridor. "I believe each of us is man enough to acknowledge assistance-and get his own ice cream."
When the Czech had gone, Rodney leaned forward and rested his chin on folded arms. He was better for having known Turpi, for every minute he'd spent with her. He was certain of that. If there was a distinct hole in his consciousness now that her presence was gone, he'd figure out how to live with it. There wasn't anyone else, anywhere, who had the capacity to fill it, so he wouldn't bother looking. Those memories, those ghost sensations would inevitably fade as the days passed.
He needed that distance and dreaded it at the same time.
He suddenly found himself wishing for a piano. No sense of the art, his teacher had said so long ago. He could still see the first page of Beethoven's " Pathetique" as if it were right in front of him. Technically gifted, but emotionless. Somehow he felt sure that the emotion wouldn't escape him now.
The ceremony was small. Dr. Weir and Colonel Sheppard had put the word out that all personnel were welcome but by no means required to attend. It didn't surprise Carson that, apart from senior staff, few people had shown up. For the majority of the expedition, who had spent the past few days essentially running for their lives, it would no doubt be difficult to honor the memory of those who'd planned to wipe out the inhabitants of an entire galaxy.
Some of the expedition members felt the bonds more strongly, of course. Carson wondered if today's event was partially for his benefit. Either way, he appreciated it. Once the crisis had passed, with the help of Radek's transcription of the voice recordings in Ea and Atlas's jumper, he'd been able to better organize and interpret the memories he still retained from Ea.
She'd harbored immense guilt: on behalf of Atlas, for his defiant experiment; her people as a whole, for their disregard of the humans on Polrusso; and even herself, for being willing to sacrifice an entire galaxy to what she perceived as the greater good. In many ways Ea had been unlike anyAncient they'd yet encountered. She'd had the supposed flaw of deep compassion, the supposed weakness of fearing death, and intense emotions that she either could not or would not conceal. All of these were attributes Carson understood well. In spite of her last desperate act, he couldn't vilify her.
Out on the pier, Nabu stood with Elizabeth and Rodney. The Polrusson had decided to attend the ceremony before returning home, and Carson realized that this was for him as much as anyone. As Atlas and Ea's grandson, Nabu bore their tragically conflicted legacy.
Ronon had gone to the mainland to assist Teyla and her people, so the only person missing from their eclectic group was-
— not in fact missing at all. Colonel Sheppard approached from another entrance, his polished shoes clicking on the pier. Rodney eyed him as if he were wearing a Hawaiian shirt. "I thought you didn't like that outfit."
Only Rodney McKay could refer to a military dress uniform as an`outfit.'
"I don't like it because the brass, in their infinite wisdom, sent us Class As specifically for funerals and promotions, and we have more of one than the other. This is a funeral." Sheppard's sidelong glance at Elizabeth suggested that there was something more to it than that. A subtle sign, perhaps, that he was rededicated to his duties after their earlier clash. Carson further suspected that the man was at least a little relieved to still have those silver oak leaves and, more to the point, those silver wings.
"Well, I suppose we should get started." Elizabeth moved closer to the stasis pod that still held Atlas's body. Eulogizing these Ancients seemed a complicated task, and Carson didn't envy her. Before long, however, his mind strayed back to Nabu's people. As much as the scientist in him wanted to collect DNA from as many of them as he could, the genetic variations that accounted for their wide-ranging abilities were almost certainly far too complex for him to isolate. The experiment encompassed an entire planet and thousands of years. He couldn't hope to find all the answers in a day.
Nabu had provided a blood sample himself, along with some of his impressions of the Ancient research, but had suggested kindly that Polrusso be left alone for a time, to facilitate the reintegration of his people with the cliff-dwellers. No one had tried to convince him otherwise, because no one believed he was wrong.
As with anything, in medicine or elsewhere, there was no instant solution to be had. Polrusson genetics were an area worthy of study, but one that was to be handled with care, like so much of what they'd discovered out here.
"We have a common goal with Atlas and Ea," Elizabeth was saying. "To see the end of the Wraith threat in this galaxy and others. Our methods may differ, but as humans and descendants of the Ancients we are committed to that aim, and we pledge to them that we will not fail."
Carson thought about the retrovirus research that had monopolized so much of his time in recent weeks. Another area of study that held promise as well as uncertainty. Leaving this galaxy to the Wraith was not an option. He hadn't come here to fight, but if it meant saving lives, then fight he would, in whatever way he could.
The stasis pod was lowered into the water, returning Atlas's body to the deep to rest forever with his beloved wife. While his colleagues stood by respectfully, Carson wondered if the departed Ancients knew-or cared-about the events that had transpired over the past few days. Ea deserved to know that the people she'd felt such remorse at abandoning had begun to discover the birthright left to them. If she could somehow see that, he believed that she might, at last, be at peace.