"Uh, if it's all the same to you folks, I'd rather hang out here." Lee shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "To pack up the equipment and all."
Giving him a nod, Sheppard told the Marines, "Stay with him, and check in with Lorne and the others. Let them know they can stand down."
"Aye, sir."
Sheppard led the group through the winding passages, using his P-90 only as a flashlight. He'd even put the safety on. While Daniel trusted the man's judgment, he kept his own weapon ready, as did the others. There was always the possibility that a few remote areas of the cave system hadn't been penetrated by Teyla's amplified voice.
When they arrived at the inner chambers, however, all thoughts of lingering dangers vanished.
"Good God," breathed McKay, his features slack with disbelief.
"According to many ancient religious texts, the invocation of a chant or a cantillation is supposed to be one of the most effective techniques for exorcizing demons." Daniel had witnessed some stunningly lethal results from the use of acoustics in the past. Even so, he never would have believed that something so graceful and delicate as Teyla's rendition of the hymn could produce such a violent outcome.
But the proof lay scattered everywhere. As the group explored the cave, stepping carefully over and around scores of bodies, it became clear that not a single succubus, incubus, or cambion had survived. They lay in tangled heaps, some sprawled over rocks-all with weapons in their hands, although the assorted gunshot wounds were secondary. Every last one had bled copiously from the ears, nose and, in some cases, eyes.
Daniel pulled his gaze from the carnage and noticed a vast network of symbols and drawings covering the dolomite walls. Some were etched into the living rock; most were neatly painted. He felt around in his tac vest until he found his palm-sized digital camera and moved closer to the nearest set of markings.
"This is unnervingly similar to a couple of hive ships we've known and hated," observed McKay. Daniel looked over to see the scientist peering distastefully into an alcove stacked with partially cocooned bodies. Under the wispy membranes, this particular collection of victims clearly had been fed upon and appeared to be dressed for hiking. The Tasmanian authorities probably could call off the search for those who had recently gone missing. The Lilith must have gathered and stored them in order to fuel themselves for the battle.
"I didn't know you could sing like that," he heard Ronon tell Teyla. "What you said a while ago, about not letting fear and war rule every part of life…I think I get it."
"I have always used my voice only to honor my people and the Ancients," the Athosian answered, sounding stunned and not a little disturbed. "To know that it can also be an instrument of such destruction…"
"You honored them both today," Ronon said, resolute.
When Daniel sneaked a glance at Teyla, he could see that she was far from convinced.
Returning to where Sheppard waited, expressionless, McKay asked, "Not that I'm unimpressed by your phoenix imitation, but how exactly did you get down here-and, while you're at it, what the hell happened?"
"Anata happened." The pilot had adopted a thousand-yard stare that Daniel recognized all too well. Jack had pulled the same maneuver plenty of times: compartmentalizing emotions, closing off the parts of himself that couldn't afford to waste time being traumatized. What had transpired over the last few hours to bring Sheppard to that point, Daniel doubted they would learn anytime soon.
"Anata?" asked Ronon in a tone that said he already understood.
"A Ninlil succubus. She and her cambion got Rebecca and me out of the crashed truck and brought us in here. Her people came here to stop the Lilith, to protect someone whose bloodline might have given us a shot at saving humanity."
McKay's face fell. "I'm not thrilled with your use of the past tense just then."
"They're dead." Sheppard gestured with a listless hand at the surrounding massacre. "All of them."
Hearing the Colonel explain the details of the Ninlil plan, Daniel felt the weight of his actions settle over him. Although no one could say here and now whether the people of Earth would need the Ninlil's brand of protection in the future-to say nothing of whether they would want it-the odds were good that something fundamental had just been lost to them. In his experience, potential threats like the Orici never merely went away.
Too often, what seemed like a necessary choice in the midst of a crisis ended up difficult to accept when the smoke cleared. He could still recall the anger and bitterness that had fueled him when Jack had shot the android Reese, betraying the trust Daniel had earned from her, ending any chance of learning from her the weaknesses of her replicators. Time and subsequent events hadn't completely eroded his belief that killing her had been a profound mistake. The replicators might have since been destroyed, but their Pegasus counterparts were an entirely different matter. He could only hope that, by acting on his insight into how to take down the Ancient Ninlil's chimeras, he hadn't just committed the same error.
"We didn't know the Ninlil were here," he said simply, the statement sounding weak and ineffectual. "It wasn't our intention to… We didn't know." The useless mantra of the ill informed.
So many deaths here-it would take days, if not weeks, for the caves to be scoured and every last body located. Teyla had pressed her hands to her mouth, her dark eyes broadcasting her dismay and sorrow like a beacon. Daniel wanted to tell her that it wasn't her fault, that it had been his idea more than her voice that had condemned both the Lilith and Ninlil. He knew, though, that it was all a matter of perspective. He might have been the trigger. Her voice had been the silver bullet.
While McKay's shock was obvious as well, Ronon appeared indifferent. Daniel suspected that the Satedan didn't draw much of a distinction between the succubus factions. They were too close to being Wraith to garner any sympathy from him.
Sheppard had been silent for some time when Teyla reached out to grasp his sleeve. "John," she whispered. "I cannot express…"
Her misery seemed to jar him back to the present. "You're not responsible," he told her, sliding his hand up to clasp hers before releasing it. "I'm not explaining this very well. Anata and her people were losing the battle before the sound even reached us. The group who had followed through on the Ancient Ninlil's original intentions had a code of conduct; they only allowed themselves to feed minimally on any one person, usually just the dying. Because of that, they weren't as strong or resilient as the Lilith." He rubbed distractedly at a bloodstain on his shoulder. "I took a couple of hits during the attack, and Anata healed me. One of the Lilith incubi had just gotten the drop on her when we heard the first notes of the song."
Teyla nodded, clearly still conflicted. In the quiet that followed, McKay asked, "I can already guess that the answer isn't good, but where's Agent Larance?"
"I think we'll find her in here." With his weapon dangling from one hand, Sheppard cupped the other around the back of his neck, looking tired beyond measure. "The Ninlil used the ginkgo to trigger the retrovirus in her, so she'd understand her role in all this."
Her role? Comprehension flooded Daniel. "She was the one they were trying to protect," he said suddenly. "She was the evolution Ninlil had been aiming for all along."
And now she was dead, either by the Lilith or the hymn. It didn't matter which-except in the sense that knowing for sure might keep everyone standing here from wondering if they'd done as much damage as they'd prevented.
"At least the Lilith worshippers didn't succeed in whatever it was they were trying to do," said Ronon.
"Not yet." Daniel gave the wall writing another glance. "A lot of them, probably the majority, died here, but more are still out there. Remember, another group was on its way here from Germany."