Beckett had set up his lab and infirmary in one of the many empty chambers close to the gate room. The equipment they'd brought from Earth looked incongruous among the soft lines and elegant proportions of Ancient design, but at the same time they looked reassuringly familiar. It was an odd juxtaposition, Weir thought as she stepped inside.
The doctor was working at one of the benches and glanced up at her approach. She smiled, "Doctor, what was it you wanted me to see?"
Nodding her over, she realized with a grimace that he was still working on the Wraith's arm. It was huge, its fingers — or were they claws? — twice the size of her own, its skin a sickly green. But Beckett was oblivious to her slightly squeamish reaction and began talking excitedly. "These cells have none of the normal human proteins that inhibit regeneration," he told her, manipulating the creature's arm. "That gives them an incredible ability to regenerate."
Regenerate? She didn't like the sound of that. "What about what Major Sheppard saw?" An arm, crawling across the dirt all by itself. Like something out of a bad B-movie…
Beckett nodded. "As far as independent behavior goes," he explained, "I'd say that any movement he saw was caused by a residual command language in the severed nerve endings."
Okay…As long as he understood it. "Anything else?"
For a moment Beckett didn't answer, looking at her as if trying to judge how she would react to what he had to say. It unnerved her a little, but she lifted her chin, which he took as a sign to continue. "The being this arm came from? I could hazard a good guess that it was very, very old."
Weir felt a chill run down her spine. "How old?"
"As long as the cells are properly nourished," Beckett said, "I don't see one of these life forms ever dying of natural ageing the way we do." He paused, then said, "And they'd be bloody hard to kill."
An all-but-immortal enemy? "I don't like the sound of that."
He nodded. "I don't blame you."
She was about to ask if he had any suggestions about effective methods of killing these things when her radio crackled and McKay's excited voice started babbling through the static. There was something he needed to her to see, urgently, and no amount of questioning could get him to divulge what exactly he'd discovered. Apparently it would spoil the 'surprise'. She toyed with the idea of making it an order, but decided that a certain informality with her senior staff probably yielded more than stern discipline. And so, with a nod of thanks to Beckett, she made her way up to one of the higher levels of the city. She hadn't been this way before, and was beginning to fear she'd gotten herself lost when McKay's head popped out between the panels of a double door. He waved at her. "Over here!"
Drawing closer she could hear a strange, whining sound. An engine, perhaps? McKay looked triumphant as he led her into a massive, round room. The noise was louder in here, almost deafening, but still she couldn't see the source. "What is that sound?" she shouted.
McKay's triumph crumbled into confusion. "I don't…" He turned in a perplexed circle, looking for something. "It was right there. Major?"
Suddenly, literally out of nowhere, a ship appeared, hovering right in the middle of the room. It was small and compact, almost like a car, and sitting in the cockpit was one very amused Major John Sheppard, who lifted his hand in a cocky wave.
McKay harrumphed, his thunder pretty well stolen, and Weir just stared. They'd found a ship, and from its size and shape, a ship designed to fly through a Stargate. She'd say one thing for Major Sheppard, he didn't give up easily. Unfortunately, this just made her decision that much harder.
Even through the cockpit window, Sheppard had seen the mixed feelings on Dr. Weir's face. Sure, she'd been impressed — who wouldn't be? — but he'd recognized the doubt there, too, and the concern. The ball was back in her court, and she had to make a choice. While he brought the ship down to the ground, killed the engines, and made his way back outside, he considered how best to handle her. He knew for a fact that if she didn't mount a rescue attempt, her leadership of this mission would be fatally flawed. People needed to know that someone had their backs, that if the worst came to the worst someone would be there to cover their collective ass.
No one gets left behind.
But if Weir appeared willing to sacrifice Colonel Sumner on the very first engagement with the enemy, she'd be undermining the confidence of every single man and woman on the base. It would be a disaster, and he had to make her see that. As he came around to the front of the ship she smiled at him and nodded toward the corridor — an invitation to walk and talk. They were silent at first, both aware that their discussion had to remain between themselves. Sheppard didn't know Rodney McKay very well, but the guy had the look of a gossip. At last, however, the shuttle bay was far behind and they were alone in the vastness of the ancient city.
He glanced over at her as they walked, taking in her pursed lips and the worry lines on her forehead. Quietly he said, "You wanted a tactical advantage?"
Weir blew out a short breath. "Assuming for a moment that you can fly that thing-"
"It's in my genes."
She smiled slightly, against her will by the look of it. "There's still a huge leap between being able to fly that craft and pulling off a rescue."
"Fine," he shrugged. "Call it a reconnaissance. At the very least, we need to know what kind of forces they have and whether our position's been compromised." At the very least, we need to look as if we're doing something.
She slowed and cut him an astute glance. "And if you determine that our people are still alive?"
"I'll do the right thing."
There was a long, hanging moment of silence. Sheppard felt as if the entire mission were in the balance, as if this single decision would determine the success or failure of everything they wanted to accomplish in Pegasus. He found himself holding his breath.
"Okay, Major Sheppard," she said at last. "Go."
He was gone.
It didn't get much better than this, Alden Ford thought as he made his way through the six fully geared-up and armed SOs seated in the back of the Gateship. He'd been through the Stargate countless times, but he'd never been into space before. Space! Never in his wildest childhood dreams had he imagined this moment, flying an alien space ship through a galaxy far, far away… Perhaps he should pinch himself, just to make sure he wasn't back home and dreaming.
Major Sheppard was already in the pilot's seat, and as Ford slipped into the chair next to him he reported, "Gateship One is ready to go, sir."
"Gateship?" The Major winced. "No, no, no, that's all wrong."
Ford frowned, a little crestfallen. "It's a ship that goes through the gate," he explained. "Gateship One."
"A little puddle jumper like this?" Sheppard laughed.
"Dr. McKay thought it was cool."
From the cockeyed smile, Ford guessed that McKay's approval didn't carry a lot of weight with the Major. "Okay," Sheppard said. "It's official. You don't get to name anything. Ever." He reached for the communications controls. "Flight, this is Puddle Jumper. We're go to launch."