Whatever Kavanagh had been on about, John didn’t think Elizabeth should have lowered the boom in public. John had had more than his share of public dressing downs, and it wasn’t a command style he preferred. It was only going to cause more problems, but when it had happened Elizabeth must have been feeling the time pressure intensely. Apparently she had been stiff with Hailing about something too, and he was easy-going to a fault.
But whatever had happened, John wasn’t sure he felt comfortable pointing fingers about it. He wasn’t exactly the sterling example of good chain-of-command relationships at the best of times, and he had made more than his share of mistakes. Big mistakes. “You know Kavanagh’s still chafing. He’s just going to have to get over it.”
Rodney was frowning thoughtfully. “Yes. But the man did a stint in the SGC, I can’t believe he never had his ass handed to him before. That place is practically the ass-handing capital of the world.”
“I got that impression.” Ford and many of the others had been part of the SGC, but John had first found out about the Stargate program in Antarctica, about fifteen minutes after nearly crashing a helicopter with General O’Neill as a passenger while being chased by a stray energy drone accidentally launched from the Earth Atlantis outpost. His military career had been fraught enough that he really hadn’t been all that surprised by it. He also thought the SGC needed a sign outside that said You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but it helps. Of course, as someone who was for the moment permanently stationed in Atlantis, he wasn’t in any position to criticize.
Below, Kavanagh finally extracted himself from the tangle of wrecked equipment. John pushed to his feet to call down, “Hey, we need to pack it in for tonight. It’s getting dark up top.”
Kavanagh stared up at him for a moment, squinting in the dim blue light, his expression blank. Then he said, “Oh, yes, of course.”
They made camp outside the repository, in a half-ruined structure facing the plaza where the cloaked puddlejumper rested. It was made out of cut stone blocks, its roof one big still-stable slab. There was a little crumbling around where the door had originally been, but otherwise it was mostly intact.
Corrigan was saying, “I found some indications that part of the city might have been in place before construction started on the repository, but most of it is about the same age. We’re not looking at an intrusion into a long-term occupation site.” He had found writing carved into some of the buildings, some in Ancient and some that was completely unfamiliar. Teyla hadn’t recognized it, either. There had also been some decorative carving, mostly worn down to nothing by the weather, just a few ghostly traces of leaves and vines. Corrigan continued, “I think the Ancients were building this place with the help of another group. Whether they were humans or not, whether they were native to this planet or not, I have no idea.”
They were sitting around a battery lamp, the bedrolls and other supplies for the night stacked against the wall, the life sign detector out to make sure nothing crept up on them in the dark. John would have preferred a campfire, but it was really too warm for one, and the lamp was an adequate if less comforting substitute. They could hear the sea from here, the distant roar of the waves rolling up the rocky beach; after months of living in Atlantis, it was a deceptively homey sound.
Listening to Corrigan, Kolesnikova had been drawing patterns in the dirt with a finger. “I think we are all hoping, after what our friends found down in the bunker, that the people who did that were not the Ancients.” She looked up, regarding them all seriously. “Are we not?”
“Yeah. We are. At least I am.” John looked at Teyla, who just nodded soberly.
Kavanagh’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I still believe what we found was part of a hospital. And considering that, there may have been a pressing need for it, which explains why it was built inside the repository.”
John had settled across the battery lamp from Rodney, so he had a good view of the elaborate eye roll, the rubbing the hands over the face, and the exasperated gesture to whatever deity might be listening to grant something, possibly patience or strength, to deal with Kavanagh’s boneheaded stupidity. At least, that was John’s interpretation of what Rodney was doing over there.
“But with the Stargate, this place is only moments away from Atlantis,” Teyla said pointedly. “If these people needed medical help, why not take them back there?”
“Whether it was built by the Ancients or not, the underground was not a hospital, or not just a hospital,” Kolesnikova told her. “There are devices similar to the quarantine system in Atlantis, rooms that must have been laboratories, also the remains of defensive capabilities, of weapons manufacture.”
With a snort, McKay picked up the pack of MREs, digging through it and holding the bags up to read the labels by the lamplight. “A hospital, quarantine laboratories, and weapons development. What does that sound like to everybody, dead people in little cells aside?”
“Biological warfare,” John said, setting a water bottle aside. He saw Ford exchange a troubled expression with Teyla, and Kinjo gazed out the empty doorway toward the repository. The others just looked grim.
Kavanagh frowned. “Not necessarily.”
“Oh, please.” Still flipping through the MREs, McKay threw him a sour look. “You’ve been theorizing in advance of your data since we got here.”
“Atlantis has literally miles of laboratory space,” Kavanagh said, his voice acidic. “Why would they need to put a biological weapons development laboratory out here, in a structure meant to house a meeting place for other races or other human civilizations?”
“They didn’t,” McKay told him. He had finally selected an MRE and proceeded to rip the package open. “True, the working laboratory space on Atlantis is phenomenal. If they were pursuing a bioagent to use against the Wraith, we’ll find it there. This just supports my point that the lower levels were not built by the Ancients, or at least not the Atlantean Ancients.”
It was Kavanagh’s turn to roll his eyes. Kolesnikova rescued the supply pack from Rodney and briskly started to pass out the bagged meals, putting an end to the conversation with, “Let’s speak of something else while we eat, shall we?”
John thought that was the best idea he had heard all evening, and cut off Kavanagh’s attempt at a rebuttal by turning to Teyla and explaining loudly what chicken tetrazzini was and why she probably wouldn’t like it.
Earlier, John had taken the puddlejumper up to dial the Stargate back to Atlantis and transmit his report, updating Elizabeth on what they had found, their inconclusive conclusions so far, and what Rodney and Kavanagh had said about the possibility of finding a ZPM. He had practically heard her reserving judgment over the suggestion of an Ancient facility that might have experimented on humans. And she must have read more in John’s voice than he had intended, because she had asked, “How much more time do you think we should devote to this?”
John had let his breath out. “At least another couple of days. Seriously, from what McKay and the others are turning up, there’s every chance there is a ZPM down there somewhere. What state it’s in is another story. But if we can’t find it in the next couple of days, I’d recommend bringing in another team for a longer stay. We just can’t pass up this opportunity.”
“Yes, I agree. We’ll reevaluate in twenty-four hours, if anything happens to change your opinion.” There was a pause. “You sound resigned, rather than enthusiastic.”
John hesitated, considering asking her if she had ever seen Dawn of the Dead, or read The Stand. No, probably not. “Well, you haven’t seen the working conditions. I’m going to complain to my union rep.”
“I see.” She had sounded amused, which was good.
Now people were digging into their food with the usual range of reactions from disgust to dogged tolerance. McKay actually claimed to like MREs and never complained about them; it was one of the things about him that made him an unexpectedly low-maintenance companion on field missions.