Martha Wells - Reliquary

“Yes.” John shifted it out of range.

They finished up, everybody packing the remains of the meal away into the trash container on the jumper, to be taken back to Atlantis for recycling. This was part environmental policy, part safety; it would be dangerous to leave indications of their recent presence to any Wraith that might come sniffing around after them. John always found the practice a little depressing; it made him feel like the rabbits in Water-ship Down, trying to keep from luring foxes to their burrow, helpless to defend themselves against a stronger enemy. War and Peace had its share of issues, but he was glad he had brought it to Atlantis instead.

Corrigan wanted to do a survey of the city ruins, so John sent Boerne and Kinjo with him, both men seeming glad to have something constructive to do besides watch the inert Stargate and the empty sky. John scanned that sky one more time, then went inside with the others, heading back through the cavernous foyer toward the control area.

As they passed it, John cast a thoughtful look at the big and apparently unstable spiral staircase. From its position in the building, it probably led up into the damaged spires, which the galleries above the control area weren’t connected to. If nobody turned up any clues to where a ZPM might be soon, they would have to search up there, and it might be better if he and Teyla started on that now. But he found himself still reluctant to separate the group to that extent, even with everyone wearing a headset, even with Boerne and Kinjo outside, even with Ford standing watch over the others. Just because the last time you left a couple of scientists on their own Abrams got eaten and Gall ended up offing himself in front of Rodney, he thought bitterly. Yeah, let’s make that mistake again.

McKay, walking along beside him, still messing with his pack, muttered, “This is a waste of time.”

Surprised, John stopped him at the top of the corridor while the others continued into the control area. “Hey, what’s with you? Why are you so pissy now about exploring this place? You were as enthusiastic as Corrigan and Kavanagh when we saw the image on the MALP.”

“Pissy?” McKay lifted his brows, but John just continued to watch him inquiringly, and he finally sighed. He admitted, “Okay, fine. I was as gung-ho as the rest of you at first, but I just wasn’t expecting — The state of disrepair—” He stopped, mouth twisted as he thought it over. “I have no idea. Maybe I’m coming down with something.”

“Oh.” John nodded, and decided reluctantly that he had started the conversation, he might as well finish it. “I asked, because I was gung-ho too when we got here, and now I’m creeped out, like I’m walking in a vandalized graveyard, and I have no idea why.” He jerked his chin at Teyla, who was watching them with a puzzled expression. “And you’re acting the same way. As soon as we got here, you were talking about the flesh-eating zombies.”

“That was you,” Teyla corrected firmly. “I do not even know what flesh-eating zombies are. Nor do I wish to know, so please do not explain.”

“I know that,” John persisted, “But you said you didn’t want to meet anybody who’d choose to live here, and that started the whole zombie conversation.”

“I take back my earlier agreement,” Rodney said unhelpfully, “I think you’re insane.”

Teyla tilted her head, looking thoughtful. “Many people must have died in the attack that destroyed this place. Why shouldn’t we feel as if we walk on their graves?”

“Because they’re not here.” John gestured broadly, taking in the big shadowy room beyond. Kolesnikova was getting tools out of her pack, and Kavanagh had moved on to the center of the room, back to the spot where it looked like a Stargate should be but wasn’t. “It’s not like we’re finding any kind of human remains. We’ve been to lots of ruins from before the last Wraith culling, and this is really no different. Except in the creepiness factor. Which is fricking off the scale.”

“Do you have a point?” McKay demanded.

“Yes! No.” John gestured in frustration. “My point is that I know for a fact that the three of us wanted to come here and investigate this place, and as soon as we started, we all changed our minds and thought it was a bad idea.” He shook his head, gesturing helplessly. “It’s oddly…odd. That’s all.”

“All right, all right.” McKay considered it, or at least pretended to consider it, it was hard for John to tell. “If that isn’t just a sign that we three have a more highly developed sense of survival than the others, what is it? What does it indicate?”

John sighed. “I don’t know. If I knew, I wouldn’t need to irritate myself by asking for your opinion.”

“Oh, well, thank you, Major! Here I was—”

Metal cracked and groaned and the floor vibrated under John’s feet. He swore, lifting the P-90, looking frantically around. From across the control chamber, Kavanagh shouted, jumping up from the console he had been digging into, staring down. John ran toward him, skidding to a halt when he saw what had caused the disturbance.

The spiral design in the center of the chamber floor was moving, becoming three-dimensional as the little metal tiles forming it shifted fluidly. The whole floor was still vibrating, making the glass and metal debris jump and dance. Something groaned again below their feet, and the spiral began to sink into the floor.

Standing at John’s elbow, McKay glared at Kavanagh, his mouth twisted in annoyance. “What did you do?”

John wasn’t thrilled either. “Some warning would have been nice, Doctor.”

Teyla and Ford watched the spiral uneasily, Kolesnikova a few steps behind them. Kavanagh shook his head, his eyes still on the metal sinking into the floor, his gaze rapt. “I wasn’t sure it was really here, if the power source was still active. If I was…imagining it…”

The groaning rumble of metal parts undisturbed for ages was growing louder, and John wasn’t sure he had heard right. “What?” he said, having to raise his voice over the din. “Why did you think you were imagining it?”

“I was imagining what?” Distracted, Rodney stepped sideways, moving along the edge of the shaft, craning his neck to watch the spiral’s progress.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” John shouted back, “I was—”

“Wait.” Rodney straightened up suddenly, looking at John. “It occurs to me that something may come out of here that could kill us.”

John swore and yelled, “Fall back, now!”

Everybody scrambled back toward the shelter of the main entrance corridor. Kavanagh didn’t move immediately but came along readily enough when Teyla took his arm and pulled him away. That was another good thing about civilians used to dealing with alien technology, John reflected, backing rapidly toward the corridor and making sure everyone was clear — when you yelled Run! no one stopped to ask why.

John halted in the shelter of the archway. The metallic groaning and thumping continued, and McKay looked at the detector again, chewing his lip. “Now I’m getting power readings,” he said, sounding peeved about it.

“Well, I assumed this wasn’t some kind of Rube Goldberg device,” John told him, watching the effect warily. He couldn’t see much from here, but it sounded like the spiral had originally been an elevator platform, and was now ponderously lowering itself down its shaft. Maybe Kavanagh had been right in the first place, and this had been a Stargate operations chamber, with the ’gate itself in a safety well on a lower level.

McKay spared John a glare. “If there’s shielding in this floor and no active power sources in any of the equipment we found, how did Kavanagh manage to activate it?”