And that was the rub, the fly in the ointment. But it wasn't news. "We know that," she told him earnestly. "The potential benefit to humanity far outweighs the risk, General. And it's a risk that every member of my expedition is willing to take."
She glanced over at McKay, who'd been watching the exchange intently, hoping for an earnest nod of agreement. Instead, he was looking perturbed. When he caught her eye, he said, "One way?"
She glanced at O'Neill with the lift of an eyebrow, and caught his amused smile before he had time to hide it.
The story was incredible. Mind-blowing. And after a tour in Afghanistan, John Sheppard thought he knew all about mind-blowing. But Stargates and aliens with snakes in their bellies, and little gray men, not to mention Ancients who could become energy beings and fly cities halfway across the universe… It was — well if he hadn't known better, if he hadn't actually seen that flying squid earlier, he'd have been convinced he was the subject of some colossal practical joke.
"…We think the gene was used as a sort of genetic key, if you will," Beckett was explaining. That was his name: Carson Beckett, MD. And the accent was Scottish, not Irish. "So that only their kind could operate certain dangerous or powerful technologies."
Sheppard wasn't looking at the man. Instead he was circling the strange, alien chair. Alien! "And some people have the same genes as these Ancients?" In which case, perhaps `alien' was the wrong word?
"The specific gene is very rare," Beckett told him, from where he was leaning up against the wall. "But on the whole they looked very much like us. In fact," he continued, warming to the subject, "they were the first. We're the second evolution of this form — the Ancients having explored this galaxy millions of years before we even-"
He broke off as Sheppard came around to stand in front of the chair. It was right there, how could he not try it out'?
"Major," Beckett took a step closer, "please don't…"
Whatever. Sheppard sat down. "Come on," he protested, "what are the odds of my having the same-
The chair moved, sliding back and tilting his feet up. A pale golden light glowed everywhere and he could feel a gentle reverberation through his entire body. The chair was humming to itself. Sheppard held his breath, staring wide-eyed at the shocked face of Carson Beckett. Crap.
"Quite slim, actually," Beckett squeaked. Then, louder, "Dr. Weir!" He was about to bolt, turning back at the last moment to wag a finger at Sheppard. "Don't move!"
Move'? Sheppard barely dared breathe!
Within seconds footsteps came running, and Sheppard found himself face to face with a small crowd of astonished people. General O'Neill was the only one he recognized and his face was all scowl.
"Who is this'?" a slight, dark-haired woman asked. Under other circumstances he might have considered her attractive, but right now she just looked pissed.
"I thought I told you not to touch anything!" O'Neill snapped.
Sheppard felt obliged to defend himself, even if he dared not move a muscle. "I just sat down." It sounded lame, even to his own ears.
And then someone else was talking to him in clipped, staccato words. This guy didn't seem to have a lot of patience. "Major," he said abruptly, "think of where we are in the solar system."
Huh? The solar system? Sheppard struggled to remember back to the little model he'd made a hundred years ago, when he was a kid at home and aliens were something you saw at the movies. Third rock from the sun, right?
Suddenly, hanging in the air right above him, someone switched on a light show. He could pick out the sun and all its planets slowly orbiting in perfect, minute detail. It was astonishing, and from the sharp intakes of breath all around Sheppard suspected he wasn't the only one impressed.
And then another more ominous thought stirred in his mind and distracted him from the special effects. "Did I do that?"
The silence that greeted his words was as eloquent as a round of applause, and John Sheppard was suddenly struck by the absolute certainty that these people were about to turn his life upside-down, insideout and back-to-front.
He really didn't like it when people tried to do that…
Chapter Two
It was time to leave, and Jack O'Neill was beginning to think that he might actually walk out of Antarctica this time — barring the possibility of a freak elevator accident on his way topside, things were looking good. Unless, of course, Elizabeth Weir talked him to death before he actually reached the elevator in the first place. Daniel must have been giving lessons. Jack picked up his pace, forcing her to almost jog to keep up with his long-legged stride, but she wasn't deterred.
"We could be on our way to discovering an entirely new Ancient civilization," she enthused. "Best case scenario we meet some actual Ancients who are willing to help us, but if we don't…" She trailed off, forcing him to glance at her. "We need him."
No way. Not going to happen. "I need Daniel here." And that was the end of it.
Weir looked confused for half a heartbeat, then said, "I'm talking about Major Sheppard."
"Oh." He'd kinda like to hang on to the kid too — there was something amusing about the idea of having Carter hammer him into shape. Sheppard had some rough edges but a hell of a lot of potential, and Carter always liked a new project. "Haven't you already got a dozen or so people on your expedition team who can use Ancient technology?"
"With concentration and training, yes, they can make it work," Weir agreed. Then her eyes lit up, "John Sheppard does it naturally."
And Sheppard could probably charm the socks off Anubis himself too. If Anubis actually wore socks. Now there was a question to ponder… Jack stopped at the elevator, turned, and looked at the woman standing before him. What he had to tell her next was a test, of sorts. He was interested to see how she'd respond. "I've looked into his record, Doctor."
She gave a brief nod. "I know about the supposed black mark in Afghanistan," she said immediately, and with an attitude O'Neill admired. "He was trying to save the lives of three servicemen."
"Disobeying a direct order in the process." And that was the material issue; one that a civilian like Weir was unlikely to understand.
She surprised him then, another smile curving her lips. "I've read your own file, General."
Ali. Good point.
"Please."
The elevator doors rattled open. "It's your expedition," he said. Your decision. "If you want him, ask him."
He stepped into the cage, but Weir stopped him with two words. "I have."
There were few things that could stop Jack O'Neill in his tracks, but this was one of them. "You're kidding."
She shook her head. "I was hoping you'd talk to him."
And then some. What the hell was the kid thinking about, turning this down? It was incredible. Unbelievable. Frankly, it was bizarre. As the elevator rattled up through the ice, Jack turned the problem over and over in his mind, but there was no way of looking at it that made sense. Sheppard had two choices — waste his talents flying around the icepacks of Antarctica, or take part in the greatest endeavor in human history? Keep sucking up the bad rap for going back for those guys in Afghanistan, or start fresh with a new team in a new goddamn galaxy? Call him crazy, but wasn't it a no-brainer?
He found Sheppard on the small, windswept hellpad outside the dome that covered the borehole. The kid waved when he saw Jack approaching, and climbed into the helicopter to start the preflight routine. Given that Sheppard had just discovered the world's biggest and best kept secret — and been offered the chance to explore a galaxy named after a flying horse — he looked remarkably unperturbed. Confident, one might say. Chipper. No one should be this laidback, Jack decided as he too climbed into the helicopter. It wasn't natural.