Chris Wraight - Dead end

Miruva turned to him and gave an amused smile. “Dr McKay,” she said. “I wish we’d had you in Sanctuary with us. And you’re right: the Banshees called themselves Avatars.”

“Let me guess,” continued McKay, enjoying Miruva’s approval. “They have really catchy names. Like GH7X, or something. Right?”

“Something like that,” she said.

McKay turned to Aralen. “Look, I don’t want to butt-in,” he said. “I’m generally happier sorting out the tech than getting involved in politics. But Sheppard’s right, this whole planet is screwed. You’d have to be insane not to get into this ‘Sanctuary’ — demonstrably suicidal, in fact. Power problems can be sorted. We have them all the time on Atl — back home. And projecting AI avatars across large distances can be a big energy drain. Just because the Banshees flicker on and off doesn’t mean the whole system’s shot.”

Aralen looked at the scientist with skepticism. “So why do they cause such fear?” he said.

Miruva and Sheppard looked at McKay. Clearly, neither of them had any idea either.

“Well, er,” he started, hoping his complete lack of actual knowledge about Banshees wasn’t entirely obvious, “that’s probably down to the psychic techniques the Ancients use. In ways we don’t understand, they can tap directly into our minds.” It was entirely conjecture, but he hoped the Forgotten wouldn’t know that. “That’s how we’re able to use their technology. They create a neural link — a way to respond to the thoughts and emotions of the user. In this case, it’s likely that the Banshees’ neural manipulation has been distorted by the power drain. They appear as terrifying ghouls, when actually they’re just trying to do their job. If what Colonel Sheppard says is true, then I don’t think you have anything to worry about from them. In fact, you should probably stop calling them ‘banshees’. The origin of the term in fact comes from…”

Aralen’s scowl stopped him in his tracks. The etymological explanation could probably wait.

“What you say sounds convincing, Dr McKay,” he said. “If I were a less careful man, I would happily do what you suggest. But I have kept our people safe against all threats for longer than you have been alive. If I’d given-in to every theory and idea that had come my way, we would have been lost long ago. This thing needs study. We cannot risk—”

“There’s no time!” cried Sheppard. He took a deep breath. “With respect, Aralen, you’re not gonna survive another storm here.”

Aralen’s face went red with anger and he stood up. “How dare you speak to me that way,” he said, icily. “You are our guests, and now you lecture us like children.”

Sheppard opened his mouth to reply, but Miruva interjected.

“Enough,” she said. She turned to Aralen. “I hadn’t wanted to do this, Father. But if it’s proof you need, it’s proof you’ll get.”

Aralen stared at her, startled. The young woman threw him a defiant look, and then gazed up to the symbol carved on the roof of the chamber. She closed her eyes and extended her hand towards it. Immediately, the symbol glowed and a beam of energy passed between them. The familiar swishing sound filled the hall and a wave of panic washed over the crowd.

“Stay where you are!” shouted Sheppard. “You’ve nothing to fear.”

Despite himself, McKay was impressed by Miruva’s mastery of the technology — she must have been a quick study.

The figure that materialized before her was clearly an AI avatar, albeit slightly rusty around the edges. For some reason, McKay felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of terror. He shrank back, and it was all he could do not to run. “Ignore your feelings,” Miruva urged the crowd. “I can control it. The Banshees are our servants, they cannot hurt you.”

The apparition hovered motionless before Miruva. The people in the chamber gaped at it in horror, but none of them moved. Moment by moment the air of menace emanating from the Avatar dissipated until McKay found he could breathe again and could observe the device quite dispassionately. Clearly, the emotional response it generated was linked to the emotions of the observer. Clever, really.

“Announce yourself,” Miruva commanded.

“I am TF-34,” replied the Banshee in a scratchy voice. “My function is to provide teleported transportation to Sanctuary. This is the great work. Minimal power readings. I cannot remain instantiated. Shutting-down link.”

The vision guttered and faded out.

“They have been charged with bringing us to the Sanctuary created for us by the Ancestors,” said Miruva. “Their failing power supply has necessitated the transportation without explanation. But now we can access the caves directly, and you’ve seen the way I can control them. Surely you will relent, Father?”

Aralen gazed at her in wonder. “You can control them…”

“Yeah, it’s a gift,” Sheppard said. “All the best people have it.”

Aralen looked up at the symbol, and then back over the gathered crowd in the chamber. An unbroken hush had descended over the hall as the Forgotten awaited his verdict. McKay had an urge to say something, but bit his tongue.

The wait seemed interminable, but finally Aralen took a deep breath. “If you can summon the Banshees at will, how can I fail to take note of what you say? Everything I have clung on to has been turned to ashes.” He looked at Miruva, and his eyes shone with emotion. “My daughter, you have returned to us when we thought you lost. It is time for you to lead our people and fulfill the will of the Ancestors. Lead us to our Sanctuary.”

An expression of profound relief passed between Miruva and Sheppard as the crowd dissolved into excited chatter. The decision had been made, and it was the right one.

McKay elbowed his way through the press of people towards Sheppard. “Glad to have you back,” he called over the hubbub. “But what about Teyla? Ronon? Did you find them?”

“Yeah, my hunch paid out,” replied Sheppard. “They’re in Sanctuary right now. They’ve had a rough ride — I figured they needed the rest.”

“Thank God. When you came back without them, I started to imagine the worst. Not that I’m getting into irrational fears, or anything. But, well, it’s been a bit lonely out on the ice.”

Sheppard raised an eyebrow. “I’ll remember you said that,” he said. “Where are we with the Jumper?”

McKay looked troubled. “I can get us airborne,” he said. “Not for long, and probably only for a single flight. But the gate is a dead as stone. And that’s a problem.”

Sheppard smiled, and produced a large tubular item from his furs. “Oh, really?”

McKay let his mouth drop open. It shut again, then fell back.

“My God!” he cried. “A ZPM! Where the hell… Of course. Sanctuary.”

“There was more than one and Miruva says they can spare it — but I don’t think it has much juice left. You can use it, right?”

“Yes. I can. You’ve just brought me our ticket home, Colonel.”

“Glad to be of service,” said Sheppard. “As soon as we’ve got these people to safety there we can — ”

“Wait.” Rodney was appalled. “We’re not leaving now? You do know there’s a storm of utterly monumental proportions coming our way? In fact, the storm of utterly monumental proportions.”

“Yeah, and that’s why we’ve got to get these people underground before we lose the chance.”

McKay looked exasperated. “Is that our job?” he asked. “Did we come here to escort a bunch of primitives into the ground? No. We thought there’d be tech here we could use. There isn’t, and we’re in a lot of trouble. Weir would say the same thing, John, and you know it. We’ve got to get out. Pronto. Let them sort out their own mess.”