“I can see that you’d have to develop a sense of perspective.”
“That, or entirely lose your mind,” Zelenka said. “But I have not yet, so you do not have to worry that I will add to your workload.”
“I’m happy to talk to anybody who’d like to talk,” Eva said. “It’s actually pretty quiet right now from where I’m sitting. I’m hoping I can get to know people better and just get a sense of how everyone’s doing.”
“The same as usual,” Zelenka said. “We are stressed and overworked and underpaid. Everyone has had traumatic experiences that should have us all hiding under our beds, but there is too much work to do. Half the people in the city are having regrettable romances, and the other half would not know how to begin one without an instruction manual.”
Eva found herself asking “And which category would you be in?” even though she knew she probably shouldn’t.
“I prefer to be regrettable,” Zelenka said, meeting her smile with one of his own that suggested a wicked sense of humor she hadn’t suspected him of having. “In the last few weeks there has not been time.”
“I expect it’s hard for the science staff with Dr. McKay missing.”
Zelenka spread his hands. “Sheppard’s team goes missing a lot. And of course we are always very worried, but we try not to — ” He broke off, putting a hand to the radio headset he wore. “Zelenka.” He listened for a moment, then stood abruptly. “I must go,” he said. “There is a problem. Big surprise.”
“It was nice to meet you,” Eva said to his back as he hurried away, talking into his radio in low worried tones. She was getting the feeling a lot of her conversations in Atlantis were going to end like that.
Dick Woolsey sighed and looked at his open laptop. The databurst from Earth had just come in, and his inbox now showed 282 new messages. Most of them were not things he wanted to see — official messages from the IOA asking for clarification of one thing or another, screams of annoyance from various people he’d rather not talk to. He had seven days to answer them all before the next scheduled dial out, once weekly to conserve power, unless events warranted otherwise.
Three emails from General O’Neill. He opened the earliest first. It was a simple confirmation that the George Hammond had left Earth on time, Pegasus bound. Good news, but hardly unexpected. Another, three days later, confirming that the Hammond had checked in at a Milky Way gate and was still on schedule. By now it would be between galaxies, out of communications from both ends. Daedalus, on its return trip, would be reaching the edge of the Milky Way today, checking in with Stargate Command at the first gate. It always made Dick a little nervous to have all the warships out of reach.
He was going to have to write to Dr. McKay’s sister sooner or later. He’d put it off, missed this week’s databurst, telling himself that it hadn’t been long enough yet. They’d find Dr. McKay soon, and there was no reason to alarm his family unnecessarily. But another week and he would have to. There would be no excuse. He would have to start one of those letters that began with ‘regret to inform you…’
But not today. They’d find him before the next databurst. Surely.
Dick wished he truly believed that. He wished he had that kind of faith in the way the universe worked.
Chapter Twenty: Tip of the Iceberg
“Dr. Zelenka, this is Lorne,” Lorne said as he steered the jumper out of the bay and up through the hatch out into the snow. The wind was gusting unpredictably, and it took concentration to keep the jumper level. “We just had what felt to me like some kind of impact, like maybe something hit the city. I’m taking Jumper Two out to have a look.”
“Yes, seismic instruments are recording an impact on the south-east pier,” Dr. Zelenka said. “The currently south-east pier — ”
“I got you,” Lorne said, swinging the jumper around. Sheppard had landed the city oriented with a different facing than they’d had on New Lantea, and everyone who had gotten used to calling things ‘the east pier’ and ‘the north side of the city’ for the last couple of years was having to learn to adjust. He’d asked Sheppard if he couldn’t have parked straighter than that, and Sheppard had snorted and told him that next time he could drive.
Lorne thought that he’d get the chance to do that approximately the same time that pigs flew. Or when everybody with a better chair interface rating was out of commission and they had to move the city, which wasn’t a set of circumstances he could really hope for. Beside him, Hernandez was looking more cheerful. Flying spaceships seemed to be more what he’d been hoping for out of this posting.
“I think the most likely thing is ice,” Zelenka said. “The sensors on that part of the city are out again, though.”
“So it could be anything,” Hernandez said.
“You’re getting the picture,” Lorne said.
“Did you get a chance to check out those life sign readings?” Zelenka asked.
“We have pigeons,” Lorne said.
“Come again?” Zelenka said. “Communications may also be — ”
“Pigeons,” Lorne said again patiently. “Papa, India, Golf, Echo, Oscar, November, Sierra. As in small birds.”
“Yes, I know what a pigeon is,” Zelenka said. He sounded testy, which Lorne figured was reasonable at this point in the day.
“We were parked on Earth all that time,” Lorne said. “And since we had the shield up when we launched, it’s not like we gave them a chance to leave. So, no crisis on that front. Just a few casualties among the pigeons.”
“What did you do to the pigeons?”
“It was kind of an accident,” Lorne said. “Involving weapons fire.”
“You shot at defenseless birds,” Zelenka said, in a tone that made Lorne wince. “It is that they were threatening you in some way? You feared for your life if they pecked you with their little pigeon beaks?”
“I said it was an accident,” Lorne began, and then broke off as he brought the jumper down just past the end of the pier, hovering over the waves. “Okay, I think I see what we hit,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of ice in the water here, and there’s one big piece that’s jammed up against the pier. It looks like it’s maybe five meters across and about as high at its highest point.” The jagged chunk of ice rose unevenly out of the water, its top looking like it had been sculpted by the wind that was still buffeting the jumper as Lorne tried to hold it steady.
“How bad is it?”
“I can’t see much damage right now — maybe it’ll leave a dent, but it’s not like there’s a big gaping hole. The actual city wall’s pretty thick. The only thing is, these things are bigger underneath, right?”
“Yes,” Zelenka said. “The majority of the ice will be below the waterline.”
“I’m just afraid that if the current, or the wind, or whatever ran it up against the pier in the first place drags it down under the city — ”
“There are delicate mechanisms that could be damaged, yes,” Radek said. “The hyperdrive propulsion systems, a variety of underwater sensors — which mostly are not working right now, which could mean there is already damage.”
“Hang on,” Lorne said. “I’ll take the jumper down and have a look.”
“These things go underwater?” Hernandez said.
“Read the freaking manual,” Jacobs said.
Lorne ignored them both and brought the jumper down gently to touch down on the water, watching the display to make sure its systems were switching over smoothly to its submersible mode as it sank beneath the surface. What had looked like a chunk of ice from the surface was a wall of ice below it, its clouded surface reflecting back the jumper’s lights.