"That's a lot to ask," O'Neill said.
"I know." Woolsey met his gimlet stare squarely. "I don't believe we have another choice."
The silence stretched between them, and at last Lorne's cane scraped on the floor as he straightened further.
"General O'Neill. I volunteer, sir."
"That's not required, Major," O'Neill said. "I'm aware you have a history with the Genii —"
"Yes, sir." Lorne stood very straight. "But that's not going to matter at all if we can't get their ship to join us. And — I have flown an Ancient warship before. The Orion."
"All right," O'Neill said. "But you're not going alone. Pick a team, technicians, Marines in support, and I'll agree."
"Yes, sir," Lorne said again.
O'Neill glared at Woolsey. "And you can explain the situation to Mr. Radim."
"Yes," Woolsey said, his voice dry. "That would be my job."
Chapter Seven
Homeward Bound
They came through the gate into a cool and sunny afternoon, the sort of chill that Lorne associated with mid-spring or the middle of the autumn. The trees around the Stargate were tall and deep green, probably coniferous, unfamiliar and of no use in guessing the season. Not that it mattered, Lorne thought, but it would have been nice to know.
Radim had a heavy transport waiting, and they all climbed aboard, Cadman and her Marine contingent unobtrusively taking the controlling positions. Not that he really expected trouble, since he was fairly sure that the Genii weren't going to sacrifice the few scientists and military personnel who had trained to fly their warship, but it made him feel a little more secure. From the rigid lack of expression on Cadman's face, it made her feel better, too.
It took them just over an hour to reach the valley where the Ancient warship was waiting. It looked as though Radim's people had done a good job with the repairs, Lorne thought, surveying the solid mass of the hull. Yes, you could see where patches had been made, and probably the actual control elements were more jury-rigged than not, but at least it looked as though it would stand up to vacuum. He glanced at Dr. Campbell, and Campbell met his eyes with a smile and a tiny shrug. You didn't have to be a mind reader to know what that meant — we'll see once we get aboard — and Lorne concentrated on getting himself up the steep gangway to the ship's control room. His leg was better than it had been, but steep angles still caused the healing muscles to twinge painfully.
Radim's sister Dahlia was waiting in the control room, supervising a team of scientists who seemed to be activating the last of the ship's systems. She turned at their entrance, and Radim nodded a greeting.
"Dahlia. May I present Major Lorne, Captain Cadman, and Dr. Campbell? Mr. Woolsey has sent them to assist us with the Pride of the Genii."
"A pleasure, Major," Dahlia said. She was taller than her brother, and fair-haired, with deep shadows under her eyes. "I do not believe we met before —"
She stopped then, color flooding her face, and Lorne fought to keep his face impassive. No, they most certainly hadn't met, because she'd been sent to Atlantis as a hostage when her brother had kidnapped Lorne and the rest of his team — but there was no point in mentioning that. "I don't think so, ma'am," he said, in his most neutral voice, and Dr. Campbell cleared her throat.
"With all respect, ma'am, gentlemen, we don't have much time here."
"No," Dahlia said, and sounded faintly relieved. "We do not."
"Major Lorne is the one with the Ancient gene," Radim said, and she nodded.
"Then I will leave you here to accustom yourself to the controls, and I will take Dr. Campbell to the engine room so she can see what we have had to do to make the repairs."
"Excellent," Campbell answered.
"Sergeant Garces," Cadman said. "Go with Dr. Campbell."
Lorne nodded. "Sergeant Garces is a technical specialist," he said, to Radim.
The Genii leader nodded in turn, though Lorne doubted he was believed. "And in the meantime — I believe Dahlia is right, it would be well if you were to familiarize yourself with the controls."
"Yes, sir," Lorne said, wooden-faced, and settled himself in the control chair. Someone had already initialized the systems — Sheppard, presumably, when he retrieved the ship for them in the first place — and only a couple of boards remained dark. Lorne frowned, and a Genii technician looked over his shoulder.
"Those systems were damaged beyond our ability to repair them," he said. "If we had more time, or more of the proper equipment —"
"But we don't," Radim said. His voice was brisk, but not hostile, and the technician spread his hands in silent acceptance.
"What do those systems do?" Lorne asked.
"One is the monitoring system for the cargo space," the technician answered. "It seems to be redundant — we can get the same information on the general interior scan. That one is the manual override for the environmental system."
That didn't sound good. Only long service with the SGC kept Lorne from saying that aloud. Besides, as Radim had already pointed out, there wasn't much they could do about it anyway. He nodded instead, and turned his attention to the controls.
He had had basic training on several different types of Ancient ship, and the Avenger — Pride of the Genii, he reminded himself, though the ship itself was slow to answer to its new name — fell into familiar categories. By the time Campbell returned, talking a mile a minute while Dahlia nodded, Lorne was confident he could handle her under battle conditions. He said as much to Radim, who nodded.
"I'm glad to hear it, Major. How soon can you be ready to launch?"
Lorne glanced at the boards. All the essential systems were either green or dead, and he shrugged slightly. "Whenever you're ready, Mr. Radim."
Radim looked at his sister. "If you'd clear the noncombatants off the ship —"
"Yes." Dahlia moved to a device hanging from the nearest bulkhead and began speaking into it, ordering the technical staff to finish any last minute work and clear the ship.
Lorne tuned her out, concentrating on the controls. Avenger was coming to life under his hands, systems waking, power beginning to flow. Everything seemed normal, and he was aware suddenly of the two Radims standing close behind his chair.
"You'll go with them," Radim said quietly.
"And will you?" Dahlia asked.
"I'm staying with the ship."
"That's folly."
"I have no choice," Radim said. "But there's no need for you to be here. I had in mind to leave you in charge if anything happens."
"If we lose this fight," Dahlia said, "it's unlikely the Genii state will survive. And if it did, they will not follow a woman. I'm more use to you here. But you don't have to be here. Chief Cowan —"
"I'm not Cowan," Radim said. "Or Kolya. Or any of the other leaders we've seen in our lifetimes. But none of them were afraid to fight. I have to be here. You know that."
"Yes," Dahlia said, after a moment. "Well, it's simpler that way."
"That, too," Radim said, and turned away.
Well, Lorne thought, and kept his eyes firmly fixed on the controls. That — wasn't entirely encouraging, really. But he'd known the score when he volunteered. "Mr. Radim?"
"Yes, Major?" The Genii leader stood ramrod straight, fighting for every inch of height.
"We're ready to lift."
"Ground reports all nonessential personnel are off the ship and accounted for," another technician reported, one hand to his heavy earpiece.
"Very well." Radim drew a deep breath. "Raise ship, Major Lorne."
"Yes, sir." Lorne rested his hands on the controls, feeling the ship respond to the touch, sensing the genetic makeup of the Ancients. He could feel the ship's presence at the back of his mind, as though a sleeper woke, and he urged it on, rewarding each new evidence of awareness with as much attention as he could give. The engines rumbled, a sound too deep to be heard, felt through the floorplates and deep in the marrow of his bones; he felt the inertial dampeners establish their fields before the boards lit, pressed both hands gently into the yielding control surface. The Pride of the Genii groaned deep in her core, and rose.