Shining the light around, John saw there was actually a ladder, set in under the edge of the floor, in the wall of the shaft. It was narrow, partly carved from the rock, with metal rails and treads, and it looked stable. But that first step is still a killer. This was obviously meant for emergency use only. “Guys,” John said, “We got a bunker here.”
Chapter Three
After the Genii, John regarded all bunkers with suspicion on principle, but the detector still wasn’t finding any life signs, just the low and intermittent power readings. With that evidence, it wasn’t likely anybody had survived down there; or if they had, they had long since departed the area, and maybe the planet.
John sent Ford back to the jumper for some climbing rope and carabiners, then the others stood or crouched around the opening as he, John, and Teyla rigged a safety line. They had lost enough expedition members to dangers that couldn’t be avoided; John would be damned before he lost somebody because of a stupid fall.
“That’s a waste of time,” Kavanagh said, arms folded, his face tight with impatience.
Saving John the trouble, Rodney said, “There’s no way you’re getting me or anybody else — which includes you, whether you like it or not — on that insanely narrow ladder without something to grab on to when it inevitably gives way.”
“There could be a ZPM down there. A half a dozen ZPMs,” Kavanagh snarled. “We need to get down there and find them.”
His expression deeply sardonic, McKay drew breath to answer, but Kolesnikova cut him off by pointing out mildly, “There might be a hundred ZPMs, but they aren’t going anywhere in the next fifteen minutes.”
John checked the line where it was secured to a heavy pillar supporting the gallery. He still didn’t like splitting the team, but in this case there wasn’t much choice. Besides, he could tell Kolesnikova was nervous of the whole idea, and while John was willing to drag Rodney protesting and predicting their imminent deaths into these kinds of situations, he wasn’t willing to do it to the other civilians. At the moment, when they didn’t even know if there was anything useful down there, this was for volunteers only. “Ford, you’ll stay up here with Kolesnikova. Keep up the regular updates with Boerne’s group.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed Ford’s face. The kid was the poster boy for gung-ho; he actually wanted to go down into the dark hole to see what was there and hopefully kick its ass. But he said sharply, “Yes, sir.”
Kolesnikova just nodded, relieved. John could tell she had been willing to go if ordered to, but was more than glad to stay up here. “You will call us if there is anything of interest?”
Rodney leaned over to look down the shaft, his mouth set with distaste. “Call, scream, whichever seems more appropriate at the moment.”
Climbing down one by one with the safety line clipped to a harness was slow but uneventful. John went first and checked out the bottom of the shaft with the P-90’s light while he waited for the others. There was a big space at the bottom, with eight corridors leading off it. The walls were dark gray, metal bonded to rough stone, with the little blue globe lights set high in the ceiling. It was warm, but the air wasn’t as stale as it should have been; some kind of recycling system must still be minimally functional. The odor of rot came and went, drifting on some barely existent breeze. As McKay reached the bottom and extracted himself from his harness, John said, “Searching this place may take a little longer than we thought.”
“Always look on the bright side, Major.” McKay came over to join him at the entrance to the nearest corridor, getting the detector out of a vest pocket. He checked it again, then rolled his eyes. “Except there is no bright side. Power signatures are still present but intermittent. If there is a ZPM here, it’s turned off, drained, running on minimal capacity, or actively trying to play hide and seek with us. We’re going to have to find it the hard way.”
“Color me surprised.” John tapped his headset. “Ford, can you hear me?” No answer. “Crap.” He moved back into the shaft, into the fall of light from above. Kavanagh was nearly down, and Teyla was starting her climb, moving lightly and easily down the awkward ladder. “Ford?” he tried again.
The radio responded immediately, “Here, Major.”
“It looks like the shielding up there is interfering with our communications. We’ll come back here and check in on the hour.”
“Yes, sir. Be careful down there.”
McKay picked a corridor before Kavanagh could dispute the selection. John led the way, putting Teyla at their six. “The construction is more primitive down here than on the upper levels,” Kavanagh pointed out, as John moved his light over the walls and ceiling.
“More support for my theory.” McKay said this in a little singsong, calculated to drive Kavanagh insane.
It worked. “Your theory is crap,” Kavanagh snapped, his eyes on his own detector. “It could have been built later, when their resources started to fail.”
“Kids, don’t make me separate you,” John said, keeping his attention on the corridor ahead. “Or beat you unconscious.” Privately, he thought Rodney was right. The blue light gave everything a spooky glow, but their flashlights showed that the metallic material in the walls was rougher, with rivets and seams. There were gray-green patches that might be some kind of mold, creeping in wherever the metal met stone.
“It is very odd,” Teyla said from behind them. “There is just something that is not…”
Something that’s not right, John finished. Yeah, that too. He found himself straining to listen, but all he could hear were their own movements and the whisper of air in ancient vents.
About twenty paces down the corridor the walls widened into a large circular chamber, with the walkway forming a bridge across a lower level. The platform held a couple of big work stations, the screens shattered and the metal melted from a blast by an energy weapon. Warily, John flashed the P-90’s light across the level below, but all he could see were closed metal doors, three on each side.
Kavanagh immediately went to the first console, wrenching the top off and asking Teyla to hold a light for him. “Don’t touch anything without gloves,” he told them.
“No, really?” McKay said, playing his flashlight over the rubble. “I’ll try to resist the urge to lick the debris.”
John looked down into the well, at the nearest door. Something about this setup gave him a bad feeling. Maybe it was for storage. Volatile materials, something else that needed to be monitored. He looked at Kavanagh, intent on the damaged equipment, Teyla holding the light but still surveying the room warily, and Rodney, who was balancing his flashlight with the detector. The blue light washed out color and bleached skin, making them all look like they had drowned in cold water. John said, “Let’s check this out.”
Rodney just nodded grimly.
The metal steps creaked as they climbed down. John picked a door at random, standing back ready to fire, waiting for McKay to open it. But the circular handle was too stiff for McKay to wrench open on his own. John still felt uneasy about taking both hands off his weapon to help, even with no life signs on McKay’s detector. He was glad Teyla was up on the gallery above them, keeping watch.
John had to put his shoulder to the handle, with McKay hauling from the other side before it squeaked hesitantly into motion. “I saw this in a movie once,” Rodney said through gritted teeth. “Everybody died.”
“I saw this in fifty movies, and it’s never a great idea,” John told him, his voice grating as he struggled with the wheel. He felt the click as it finally gave way and the heavy door shifted a little.