“Never play poker with Oma Desala. Now, we don’t know what Dr. Weir’s situation is. We don’t even know for certain that she was forced to unascend. But it’s possible that she, or whoever returned her to human form, wanted her to be found.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning that your best chance of finding her is probably to continue doing whatever you were planning to do, and to keep your eyes open. I’m assuming that if she’d appeared on New Athos, you’d have heard about it by now.”
“They all knew Elizabeth.”
Daniel nodded. “I only met her briefly, but she was a remarkable person. I’d like to think you’re right.”
“As long as you don’t think I’m crazy.”
“Why does it bother you that people might think you’re crazy? I mean, I’m pretty much used to it. Pyramids built by aliens, it was never a popular theory.”
“That’s you,” Rodney said. “I’ve always—” He was interrupted by his headset radio.
“Dr. McKay, this is Woolsey. Major Lorne has just reported back.”
“And?”
“I’m very sorry, Dr. McKay. Dr. Weir’s Replicator body was located along with the other Replicators. It appears to still be entirely inert.”
“Dead. You mean dead.”
“I am sorry.”
“Yes, well, so am I,” Rodney muttered, and he switched off his headset.
“Bad news?” Daniel said.
“They found Elizabeth,” Rodney said. “Still floating frozen in space. So there goes that theory, right? Chalk the whole thing up to an incipient and well-deserved psychotic break.”
“I don’t know,” Daniel said slowly. “I don’t want to give you too much hope—”
“You know what, excessive optimism has never really been a problem of mine.”
“Okay, then. The body that’s floating in space isn’t Elizabeth’s original body. Her consciousness had already been separated from that body, in a state that allowed it to exist in subspace, and then to inhabit a new Replicator body. Yes?”
“As far as we understand, yes.”
“So, it’s possible that the part of her that makes her Elizabeth could have Ascended, and not taken the Replicator body with her. I think the physical body goes with you in the first place because you’re used to thinking of it as part of yourself. But this was a new body for Elizabeth. She may not have identified herself with the body that way.”
“And there’s no way of knowing if Elizabeth is still in there, because we can’t risk thawing her out and asking her,” Rodney said.
“I don’t expect Woolsey’s going to authorize that,” Daniel said. “Not to mention that if she is in there, it would be pretty cruel to put her through being woken up when you still don’t have a solution for her problem.”
“Believe me, we’ve tried to come up with something,” Rodney said. “But if she didn’t Ascend, there’s nothing we can do that will make it safe to unfreeze her. She’s essentially dead, and she’s going to stay that way.”
“So let’s keep our eyes open,” Daniel said. “And keep doing what we’d be doing if we weren’t looking for Elizabeth, and hope she finds us.”
“That’s fair enough,” Rodney said. “Of course, that means that we’re going to be doing exactly what you wanted us to do in the first place.”
“As you pointed out, that’s what Woolsey already ordered you to do.”
“Great. Let’s go look for Ancient installations.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Daniel said.
She lay in the tall grass, feeling it itch along her skin, and opened her eyes. Shadow. She lay face down, her head pillowed on her arm, and turned her head. She lay in a field of flowers. Golden stars surrounded her, deep in the tall grass, while above the largest stalks great pink flowers raised their heads to the sun, their centers black with seeds. They were no flowers she knew, nothing she had a name for. The sun was warm on her back and she lay in a field of flowers.
The sun was warm. Where had she been that it was so cold? Why couldn’t she remember? Perhaps it didn’t matter much.
There were the sounds of voices, children’s voices raised in song, the deeper voices of adults. They sounded happy. That was good. It was good for people to be happy on such a lovely day.
There were the sounds of running feet, and then they stopped. A child’s voice sang out very close at hand. “Gran! Gran, come quick! There’s a naked lady here!”
More footsteps. A woman’s voice. “Kyan, get back. Go to your father.”
A hand touched her neck from behind, careful fingers gentle as they felt her throat. Checking for a pulse. She knew that gesture, and she opened her hand against the earth.
“Ah.” A woman’s voice, then a man further away.
“Kyan, come here.”
“She’s alive,” the woman said.
She wanted to answer, but the words stuck in her throat.
Careful hands lifted her, turning her over, the sun unbearably bright on her face. “Can you hear me?” the woman asked.
A shadow, the man bending over. ‘I don’t see any blood. Is she hurt?”
Something settled around her shoulders, a cape of soft feathers. She opened her eyes.
An old woman bent over her, concerned brown eyes peering at her face. “Can you speak?”
“I…think so.” Her voice was hoarse, as if from disuse.
The cape settled around her, bright green feathers smelling like sunshine and some deeper scent of resin, covering her nearly to the knees.
The man held a little boy by the hand, the boy watching her curiously. Behind were other people and a three wheeled cart pulled by a pair of large dogs. The men’s heads were shaved except for the child, each carrying packs or bundles. “Where did you come from?” the man asked.
“Child, can you stand?” the old woman asked.
She took the offered hand, getting slowly to her feet. All around them stretched a plain of wild grass, a prairie filled with wildflowers. “Where am I?”
“Along the route to Iaxila,” the man said. “Were you lost from a caravan?” He looked at the old woman worriedly. “There haven’t been bandits on this route for a long time, but…”
The old woman held her hand gently. “You’ve fallen in among honest people. We won’t hurt you, I promise. The Ancestors charge us to treat the stranger as our own. What terrible thing happened to you?”
She stood in the bright sun, her hand in the old woman’s, looking across the grass from horizon to horizon, and no words came. No thoughts. They ran away like water, any moment before this. “I don’t remember,” she said.
They camped that night on the open plains, their fire small compared to the fires above. The sky was thick with stars, a wash of them across the eastern sky illuminating almost to twilight. There was a stew of grains and dried meat, some folded dried fruits passed hand to hand. She sat in the clearing where the tall grass had been cut for the fire, her hands around the hollowed gourd that held her stew.
They had found clothes for her, baggy trousers that tied at waist and ankles, a tight fitting top of knitted wool dyed in all the green shades of new growth, as though one skein had been dipped from dark to light and back again. She was warm enough. Everyone was very kind and very careful.
She slept beneath the stars, wrapped in a tanned hide with fur on one side, listening to the quiet sounds of the camp. Waking changed to sleeping and sleeping to dreaming so gradually that it seemed she was still awake.
She lay beside the dying fires, the tents lit from within by their battery powered lights while the adults talked quietly. The radio with its makeshift antenna played, a song about a girl with kaleidoscope eyes. Her parents were talking, nursing cups of strong British tea, while outside the circle of the fires she saw the reflected gleam of green eyes. They watched steadily.