Kolesnikova was asking Corrigan about Earth’s Atlantis myths. “How did the stories of Atlantis come to center on the Greek islands, when the actual city landed in the Antarctic region? Or was the word carried to Plato somehow, and he set his version of the story in the land he was familiar with?”
“That’s always been my theory,” Corrigan told her, warming to the subject. “Now, the island of Thera was always associated with Atlantis, usually because of a volcanic eruption that destroyed the Greek settlement there. Part of the island still exists today, with a giant hole in the center where the eruption occurred.” He looked absent for a moment. “There’s a huge number of myths about Greek vampires — Vrykolakas — associated with the modern island, which is called Santorini. I hadn’t really given that any thought until we came here and encountered the Wraith, but the association with Atlantis, and vampires, is a little…indicative, if you think about it.”
Kolesnikova sighed. “Perhaps the Atlanteans visited Thera, and left some warning about the Wraith there, that was perhaps destroyed by the eruption. Cretan civilization was also thought to be very advanced, was it not?”
McKay was listening skeptically. “It’s probably a coincidence.” He turned to John abruptly, asking, “Do you still find this place incredibly disturbing? Again, dead bodies in little cells aside.”
John lifted his brows, surprised at the abrupt turn. “Yes. It’s creepier during the day than Atlantis ever has been at night, including during the time the Darkness creature was drifting around eating power sources and attacking people.”
McKay nodded. “Right. I’ve got a theory about that.”
“A theory?” John stared at him, brows drawing together. “Earlier today you said I was insane.”
“That’s beside the point.” McKay shifted forward, explaining intently, “We know the Ancient technology responds to humans who have the Ancient gene, either naturally or artificially with the ATA therapy. We know the receptors must emit some kind of field that allows them to interact with the human nervous system, even though we can’t isolate it yet. And though it often seems to work best when the operator is in physical contact with the device, it’s not always necessary. So that field must be broadcast continually all over Atlantis, from the lights to the stations in the operations tower. You’ve gotten used to the presence of that field, even though you’re not consciously aware of it. The lack of it is affecting you here because parts of this place are built with the same type of materials that were used to build Atlantis, even if the construction is inferior. Those materials may be affecting your perceptions, making you expect to experience the field when it isn’t there, causing a cognitive dissonance. Or—” McKay interrupted himself, staring distractedly into the distance. “Maybe these people tried to duplicate the field for their own purposes, and it’s broadcasting in a different range, causing us — you — to—”
“Hold it.” John put that Freudian slip of “us” together with the way McKay had shut down the conversation about Corrigan’s vampire theory, which, if you had to pick one or the other, went a lot better with dinner than the hospital versus biological warfare development lab argument. He said accusingly, “Dammit, Rodney, you feel it too. Why didn’t you say something about it when I asked you earlier?”
“It was Dr. McKay who first mentioned the cannibalistic mutants with psychic powers,” Teyla contributed helpfully.
McKay frowned at her in a wounded et tu, Brute way.
The others looked confused. “Cannibalistic mutants what?” Ford demanded.
Kavanagh was still stolidly eating his MRE. He shook his head in disgust. “I wonder about you people sometimes.”
Corrigan was pretending to be engrossed in his field notes, and John caught Kinjo mouthing the word ‘sometimes?’ at Boerne.
Kolesnikova held up her hands placatingly. “All that aside, I have had the gene therapy, and I too feel something is not right about this place. I haven’t had as much experience with exploration as you all, so I had put it down to that. I thought it was normal to be afraid all the time.”
“It is, but I don’t think it’s just that,” John told her.
“Which is what I just said,” Rodney insisted.
“Maybe it’s something else that’s making you guys jumpy,” Ford said. “Maybe something in the air down there.” He threw a cautious look at Kavanagh, apparently not wanting to be caught in the middle of the earlier argument. “If they were experimenting with chemical or biological warfare…”
“There may be dangers down there our equipment can’t detect,” Kolesnikova added.
Rodney said, not helpfully, “If there was anything airborne, it was too late the moment that shaft opened.”
Kavanagh shook his head. “The air down there isn’t stale,” he said, obviously giving it serious consideration. “It’s being recycled, and must be drawn in from outside. There were probably scrubbers in the system, though it’s unlikely they would last this long. But the air movement has been constant; anything released in the destruction would have been flushed away long ago. We should, however, avoid opening any more of those sealed cells. If there’s a contagion, it’s in there.”
Teyla nodded, her face sober. “Yes, there must be a constant source of fresh air. There is no odor of mold or rot.”
“It does stink down there,” John countered, surprised she hadn’t noticed, and that Kavanagh hadn’t mentioned it. “Kind of musty, and rotten. Really rotten. You could smell it when the shaft opened, and it got worse the longer we stayed down there. Just like you’d expect from…” Everybody was staring at him quizzically. “What?”
Kavanagh was frowning slightly at him, the way you did when you thought someone was making an inappropriate joke. “There’s no odor, Major.”
If it hadn’t been Kavanagh, who didn’t have a sense of humor at the best of times, John would have suspected they were screwing with him. He still suspected it. “Oh, come on.”
“It is true, Major Sheppard,” Teyla assured him carefully. “There is no odor of death. Salt from the sea, rock, metal, dust, but nothing foul.”
Ford nodded agreement, and none of the others objected. John looked at Rodney for help, always a mistake. Rodney was squinting at him with deep suspicion. “Are you seeing things? Or hearing things? You know olfactory and auditory hallucinations are a sign of—”
“Stop. It.” John glared at him, then grabbed his pack, firmly stuffing his water bottle back in. “We need to get some rest, people. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”
Teyla stood out on the plaza under the stars, breathing the sea air. She was on the third watch, after Major Sheppard and Lieutenant Ford, and was rather enjoying the peace and quiet. Like Atlantica, this planet had two small moons, one nearly full, the other just a rising sickle shape, and they lit the plaza and the old ruins with a gentle pearly glow. She thought Sheppard was right; there was something in the air about the repository, something wrong in the building’s very walls. Something that didn’t seem inherent to the ruined city, or the sea and the plain beyond it. Even this small distance away from the structure, her spirits had lifted a little. Enough that she was able to enjoy the night air and the sky, to feel comforted by the small sounds her friends made as they slept in safety.
A footstep on the pavement made her turn and she saw a figure step out of the doorway of their shelter. She moved toward it, recognizing him by his height and the way he stood. “Dr. Kavanagh? Were you unable to sleep?”
His head turned toward her, and he said a little uncertainly, “Yes, I just needed some fresh air. It’s all right.”
Teyla’s brow knit in concern, and she stepped closer, trying to get a better look at him in the dim light. “You do not sound well. If you are ill, you should tell Major Sheppard and return to Atlantis immediately. If there is some contagion in the lower levels—”