Having designed and built a computer prototype capable of sustaining artificial intelligence, he'd then proceeded to upload his own mind into the device. However he had done it-documentation was vague on that-the process had caused a massive power surge, crippling Atlantis's systems. By the time the systems were back online and the cause of the problem discovered, it had been too late. The men dispatched to investigate and help if necessary had found Ikaros's lifeless body next to the computer. The device had been disabled and the lab sealed, pending further investigation-which never had happened, because the war against the Wraith had outweighed all other concerns. According to the archival materials, the experiment had failed, Ikaros had been buried, and the Lanteans had mourned the loss of a promising young mind, and that had been that. According to the archival materials.
In actual fact the experiment was anything but a failure, which raised the possibility that the Ancients had been terrified by the notion of a boy genius whose cognitive abilities were vastly enhanced by a computer; terrified enough to lock the room, throw away the key, and forget about the whole thing. The question was whether the Lanteans' apprehension had been justified. Rodney seemed to think so, but-
"Yes, well, sorry about the little delay," he said. "Mastermind here wanted to do his very own PowerPoint presentation, so we had to synchronize external holo-lasers with his and make them interactive."
"I told you that linking me to the mainframe would have simplified the procedure to no end," Ikaros cut in.
"Yeah, let's not go over that again. Just do your thing. There are people waiting here."
"Your wish is my command." The boy gave a mocking little bow. As he straightened up, he took a deep breath and the adolescent smirk transformed into a shy smile that highlighted his uncanny resemblance to John Sheppard. "First of all," he began earnestly, "let me say how grateful I am to you. Being locked in a box, even a box with some amazing circuitry, for ten thousand years does tend to get a little… tedious. I owe you, and a long time ago my parents informed me that it is wise always to repay one's debts. I'd like to do so now. My friends, I'd like to present Charybdis to you."
"As in Scylla and?" John asked.
"I… don't think I'm familiar with that reference." Ikaros gave a small, baffled frown, as though his being unfamiliar with any kind of reference were entirely inconceivable. And perhaps it was. Then he smiled again. "You'll see. Just watch."
A second holo-laser fired up, its image congealing into a solar system whose primary was a red giant in the last stages of expansion. What was left of its planets-three small worlds, none of them sporting any moons-orbited despondently, as though aware of what their future held. The image zoomed in on the innermost planet. It was small and arid, without discernible climate zones other than desert, and seemed devoid of life.
"We've got it registered as M5P 878," Rodney announced to no one in particular.
"When and how did you come up with this bizarre way of naming planets?" asked Ikaros, then obviously decided he'd rather not know the answer, because he carried on. "We call it Mykena Quattuor. The sun is Mykena. As you can see, it'll turn supernova within a relatively short timeframe-I expect another two thousand years at most-but its system is already dying. It was one of the reasons why we chose Mykena Quattuor as the Charybdis site."
"Who's we?" John threw in.
"Janus and I. I gather you are aware that Janus's preferred area of research was fourth-dimensional physics. I refined and expanded on some of his theories, and together we devised a method of modifying carefully selected timelines-Charybdis."
The holographic image changed, simulating the view from a jumper, chasing above the surface at about three thousand feet. The destination of the virtual jumper seemed to be a structure that sat in the middle of a vast, desolate plain. It reminded Elizabeth of an enormous geode turned inside out, a crystalline dome that shimmered in the somber red light of Mykena.
"Charybdis," Ikaros repeated, nodding at the structure. "Well, the outer shell that houses the prototype at any rate."
"Which timeline specifically did you think of altering?" asked Radek, ill-concealed fascination bubbling in his voice, specs sliding down his nose unchecked. He looked as though he already knew where this was going and merely asked out of politeness.
"One of the Council's precepts that always hampered Janus was that nothing he did must interfere with our then-current timeline." The expression on the boy's face left no doubt as to just how moronic he considered this notion to be.
Rodney begged to differ. "Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but it's one way of eliminating the numerous intriguing possibilities posed by the Grandfather Paradox-always assuming one actually believes in it."
"Grandfather Paradox?" Ikaros's eyebrows ratcheted up a notch. "I don't quite see what my ancestors should have to do with it."
"The idea is that you go back in time, accidentally kill your grandfather before he had a chance to meet your grandmother, thereby preventing the conception of your father and, by extension, your own, which obviously means you won't be able to go back in time because you never existed in the first place. The whole thing supposedly is a parable for-"
"Wouldn't it be fair to assume that anybody intelligent enough to contrive a means of going back in time would also possess the basic wisdom not to kill his grandfather?" The boy sighed. "Your outlook is as limited as the Council's. Of course Janus and I were more than aware of the risks. You may recall that I said carefully selected timelines."
"Which timeline were you thinking of?" Elizabeth asked.
Ikaros smiled at her like a teacher rewarding a pupil who'd finally managed to bring up a constructive question. "The one enabling the evolution of the iratus bug."
"Brilliant idea!" John said enthusiastically.
"I wish you wouldn't always make these things personal," complained McKay.
"This one's intensely personal, trust me "
"It makes perfect sense!" Radek cut in. "Without the iratus bug, there never would have been Wraith. And nobody is being put at risk by eliminating the bug."
"So what stopped you from going through with this oh-sobrilliant idea, huh?" Apparently, Rodney had decided to sulk.
"The Council!" spat Ikaros. "They argued that, while the Wraith posed a lethal danger, their presence had also influenced the development of my people in unique ways. That to take the Wraith out of the equation might result in Atlantis never having been built." A little more calmly he added, "We also encountered several problems when we ran the simulations"
"In other words, Charybdis doesn't work," Rodney concluded triumphantly.
"Oh, but it will. I have a solution for every one of those issues. That was the whole point of uploading myself into the computer."
Chapter six
He pulled from the link with a jolt, and for an instant Teyla.could feel his shock and an unlikely mixture of pity and scorn. Best not to let on. This was difficult enough without his realizing that, as long as they were linked, she could sense his every emotion.
"You're telling me the kid turned himself into a machine to be able to do the math?" he gasped.