Carter checked the pistol in her thigh holster; it never hurt to be prepared, and after everything that had happened on Heruun up until now, it seemed prudent to have the ability to defend yourself if the circumstances required it.
McKay went on. “From what we can figure, a few years ago the ship dropped out of hyperspace in the Heruun system, and by some fluke found itself in the midst of a Wraith culling fleet preparing to attack the planet.”
“How long ago?”
“Decades, perhaps a generation or two. I can’t be sure.” He shrugged. “So. There was a firefight and the Wraith were destroyed, but not before they scored a few choice hits.”
“And the damaged Asgard ship was forced down on to the lunar surface,” she replied, picking up the thread of the story. “But the damage was too widespread for these Risar to fix on their own?”
McKay nodded. “Not enough manpower, and apparently the drones have a very limited lifespan. Days, at most, before they degrade and die off.”
“So the Asgard kidnapped the locals to use as a labor force, keeping them for couple of weeks, and then erasing the memory of what had happened to them.”
“Some sort of engineered hypnotic control, apparently.” Rodney pulled a sour face at the idea of being someone else’s puppet. “That’s what happened to Laaro’s father.”
“The boy Lorne spoke about?”
“Yes. I think that’s what they were trying to do to Ronon, program him the same way to act as a worker drone.”
The last chevron locked and the gate plume cut through the air, shimmering into solidity. Sam paused on the threshold. “We’ve seen that kind of thing before. A few years back, on Earth, SG-1 encountered a rogue Goa’uld doing something similar.”
“I read that file,” said McKay. “Creepy.”
“How is Ronon?”
McKay’s frown deepened. “Doctor Keller has already gone back with a medical team. I’m sure she’ll be able to fix him up. The guy’s pretty tough.” He didn’t sound convinced.
Carter advanced through the event horizon of the gate’s open wormhole and felt the strange, cold rush across her face as she pressed into the ripples. She was aware of a giddying, thunderous sense of displacement, and then suddenly she was walking down crumbling steps of brown stone, the heavy heat of a long, cloudless day enveloping her.
Standing sentinel amid the stone pillars surrounding the Stargate, Major Lorne threw her a salute. “Welcome to Heruun, Colonel.”
Sam returned the greeting. “Thank you, Major. Sitrep?”
“The natives are a bit restless, but so far nothing beyond that.”
“Good, keep me posted.” She glanced around. “Where’s Colonel Sheppard?”
Lorne jerked his chin up at the evening sky, toward the silvery ring bisecting the clouds and the distant moons beyond. “Still upstairs, ma’am. He’s expecting you.”
Sam felt a familiar tingle growing all around her, and nodded. “Right.”
The air around them became a curtain of glowing white energy, and for the second time in less than a minute, Carter’s and McKay’s bodies were dissembled into their component atoms and thrust through a quantum tunneling effect, to be reconstructed at a new location. When the white glow died away, Carter was standing on the deck of the Asgard ship, the familiar curved walls arching away from her. John Sheppard waited nearby, and with him was Teyla Emmagan.
“Teyla,” said Carter, a sense of relief washing over her. “You’re all right.”
The Athosian woman seemed troubled, but she hid it quickly. “I am unhurt, Colonel.”
“I intended no harm to come to anyone,” said a voice. Sam turned and found a tall, rangy creature standing next to the transporter control console.
“Risar,” said McKay, from the side of his mouth.
“I guessed,” she replied. Carter stepped forward. “I am Colonel Samantha Carter of Stargate Command and the Atlantis expedition. Am I addressing Fenrir?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said the creature. The closer she looked, the more she could see the faint physiological similarities between the drone and an Asgard; but the humanoid was a cruder, more primitive version of the willowy, slight aliens she knew — the Asgard equivalent of a Neanderthal. “But I am not here,” continued the voice, the Risar touching its head.
“Then, where are you?” Sam’s eyes narrowed. “You have nothing to fear from us. Our species and yours has a history of alliance and co-operation.”
“So I have been informed,” came the breathy, if suspicious reply, “but you will forgive me if I am reluctant.”
“We made a deal in good faith,” Sheppard began. “Think of the transporter repair and releasing the abductees as the first payment. This is the next step.”
Carter nodded. “We prefer to speak to those we deal with face to face.”
“It’s a, uh, human thing,” added McKay.
The Risar said nothing, watching them with a neutral expression; finally, Teyla spoke. “Fenrir. You must trust us.”
“I will,” it said at length. “Follow this drone.”
They did as they were asked to, and the Risar silently led them through a series of junctions, deeper into the heart of the vessel. The humans approached a wide, reinforced hatchway, guarded by another pair of Risar armed with crystalline ovoids that resembled the control spheres from Asgard consoles.
The hatch retreated into the deck and a cold waft of air reached out from the chamber beyond. Carter and Sheppard entered first as illuminating strips came on all around the walls. The chamber was dominated by a long, low capsule covered in a thin layer of frost, surrounded by smaller control consoles. Parts of the complex machinery seemed damaged, indicator lights flickering, burn damage visible here and there. Sam saw a glassine port in the side of the capsule and glimpsed blue-white flesh inside.
“Fenrir?” she asked, her breath making a cloud of vapor at her lips.
With a hum, the holographic image of an Asgard came into being between them and the machinery. “Greetings, Colonel Samantha Carter. I am Fenrir.”
“Uh, no offence meant,” said Sheppard, “but you’re not. You’re a hologram.” The colonel stepped forward and waved his hand through the image, making it flicker and pixelate for a moment.
Sam studied the image. The Asgard were identical, beings born from clone stock who endured by the transfer of their minds from one living copy to another; and yet there was something about the representation of Fenrir, an unusual cast to his eyes that set him apart from the others of his kind she had known, a subtlety she couldn’t fully quantify.
She pointed at the capsule. “That’s really you, isn’t it? Your organic body, inside that pod.”
The alien nodded once. “My flesh, yes. In cryogenic suspension. However, my consciousness remains active and connected to some of my ship’s systems. Hence, my ability to converse with you through this interface, and my operation of the Risar.”
“They are all Fenrir,” said Teyla quietly.
“From a certain perspective, that is correct.”
“Stasis pods,” said McKay, “used for long duration space flight. But that begs the question, why are you still in there? Relatively speaking, I mean.”
“I am trusting you with this knowledge,” said the alien, “to prove my sincerity.” The hologram gestured at the capsule. “Although I wish it, I cannot end the stasis cycle and exit the pod. Damage sustained to my vessel has caused a critical interrupt in the system, and any attempt to intervene could cause a cascade failure. If the deactivation cycle commences, I will perish.”
“But you can transfer your consciousness to another cloned body —” began Sam.
“No, Colonel Carter. The emergency genetic bank aboard this craft was also lost when the Wraith attacked me. I was only able to reconstruct the gene-code for Risar.” The Asgard seemed to frown. “My only chance of survival is to repair my ship and return to my homeworld, Hala.”