“The Atlanteans aid us in the search for a cure,” said Kullid. “We are close —”
Soonir waved him away. “You have searched for a treatment for years, healer, and found nothing.”
“That’s because he didn’t have our help,” Keller broke in. “The sickness is… It’s a taint in the blood of the Returned. An accident. Once we can figure out how to purge it, it will never come back.”
“An accident?” Soonir clearly found that difficult to accept.
“Doctor McKay has ventured back through the Gateway,” added Kullid. “He will bring back new learning that will make the cure a reality.”
The rebel leader was silent for a long moment. “I do not doubt your intentions, healers,” he said, at length. “But until I see the sick restored, I remain unconvinced. And you should know that for all the false cheer Takkol demands, there is unrest here.”
“Meaning what?” said Ronon.
“The people do not know what they should believe, voyager. Some fear Takkol and the other elders are in league with you and a new tyranny is on the rise. Others are afraid that the Aegis is dead and the shadow of the Wraith will soon fall across our world once more. There are even those who would welcome such a thing, those who believe it is fated.” One of Soonir’s men suddenly moved to the doorway, drawing his leader’s attention. “There is confusion,” he concluded, “and where that leads, violence is certain to follow.”
“Guards are coming,” said the man at the door. “We must go.”
Soonir gave Keller and Ronon a hard glance. “Remember what I have said. Tell your Colonel Carter.” He pushed past and moved toward the back of the lodge, vanishing into the darkness. “And be watchful.”
Kullid shook his head. “What shall we do?”
“Keep quiet,” Ronon growled, as the doorway crashed open under the force of a boot heel.
Sheppard entered the core compartment, rubbing at the sore spot on his arm. “McKay?”
Across the room, panes of shimmering holographic text hung in the air, crowding around the sloped console of the Asgard supercomputer. “Over here,” said Rodney, over the rapid-fire tapping of fingers across a keyboard. McKay gave him the briefest of looks. “Let me guess. Blood test?”
Sheppard nodded, navigating through the floating screens. “I’m surprised they didn’t ask me for the fillings in my teeth and my first-born child as well.”
“Yeah, I bet SG-1 wouldn’t get the same treatment…” He reached up and touched a screen, making it turn in virtual space. “Look at this. I found our little grey buddy. Chapter and verse, right here.”
Sheppard studied the picture of an Asgard for a moment, his lip curled. “They all look the same to me.”
“That’s because they are all the same, more or less.”
“Why didn’t these files open for the Odyssey crew?”
“Encryption,” replied McKay, with a smug smile. “The Asgard use layered structures inside their computer architecture, and they encode each tier with a different cipher. The lower levels are so heavily coded that unless you know they’re there, you’d never find them.”
“Nice work,”
“Yes, I like to think so.”
Sheppard stood in front of the console; with all the holo-screens around them, it was like being in a hall of mirrors; except instead of reflections, there were streaming waterfalls of dense alien text. “So, what’s the scoop on Fenrir.”
The momentary grin on Rodney’s face slipped. “I don’t think he’s been entirely forthcoming with us, that’s for sure. The reason Fenrir’s records were so hard to find was because they didn’t appear in the central registry. They were in a subframe belonging to the Asgard equivalent of the, ah, correctional system.”
The colonel’s eyes narrowed. “He’s a convict?” Sheppard had a crazy mental image of the diminutive alien wearing an orange prisoner’s jumpsuit. “I thought they were too advanced for all that kind of thing, y’know, lawbreaking and stuff.”
“We know there have been other renegade Asgard. There was Loki, who conducted human biological experiments on Earth…” Rodney paused. “To be honest, I think the Asgard hid these files because they were an embarrassment to them.”
“What did he do, McKay? I’m guessing from the look on your face that it’s something big.”
“You’re not wrong.” The scientist got up and came around the console, bringing a data pad with him that trailed glowing cables from an interface socket on the core. “From what I can see, Fenrir was originally a bio-researcher working with some of their biggest brains — Heimdall, Sigyn, Thor, those guys — on their life-extension project. But then the Replicators became a problem and he switched majors, so to speak. After one of their main colony worlds was consumed, it says here, he began work on a crash development program.”
“Military research?”
“Bingo.” McKay began manipulating the pad, and the holographic projectors in the core moved the screens out across the room, the panels growing wider and larger. Sheppard saw images of a blue-white world of large oceans and massive ice sheets webbed by Asgard mega-cities, then time-lapse scans of the surface turning dark as a tide of Replicators advanced across it. By the time the short animation concluded, the planet was a wasteland. Rodney continued; “Whatever he was working on, it was big. The data is buried so deep I need a jackhammer to dig it out…” Red runes in the Asgard language flared brightly around them as McKay hacked the security codes keeping the files closed. “Wait. Wait. No. I’ve got this.”
Like a dam bursting, all the holographic screens flooded with data as Rodney broke the lock and released the files. Sheppard picked out fleeting schematics for an Asgard warship, the complex orbital structure of a solar system, a cutaway globe showing the interior of a star; and repeating over and over was a symbol, a stark vertical line on a dark background. He pointed into the hologram. “What does this mean?”
When McKay looked up from the data pad his expression was bleak. “It’s a warning. An Asgard rune. It’s the character ‘Isa’, it means ice, entropy…the end of the universe.”
Elder Aaren and a group of armed guards crowded into the sick lodge’s anteroom.
“Where is he?” Aaren demanded. Without waiting for an answer, he bellowed an order at his men. “Find him, bring him to me!”
The guards barged in and began a forceful, careless search.
“Hey, watch it!” snapped Keller, as one of the men almost tipped a table of lab gear on to the floor.
“Where is Soonir?” snapped the elder.
Ronon made a show of sitting down. “Who?”
“I know he was here.” Aaren turned and glared at Keller. “Again we find you in his company, Doctor! Why does a healer collude with a militant, answer me that?”
Jennifer drew herself up. She didn’t like this guy’s attitude. “The only thing I am doing is trying to protect people. The way I see it, the only thing you’re protecting is your…self!”
Aaren’s nostrils flared in annoyance and he took a threatening step toward her. Ronon leaned forward and flicked his pistol around in a spin; the simple action stopped the elder cold. His expression changed, becoming one of false kindness, but Keller could see the fury boiling away just underneath the surface.
“Perhaps I was mistaken. Forgive my zeal.” He snapped his fingers and his men returned to him; it was clear by now that Soonir was long gone. He paused on the threshold and glanced over his shoulder at the doctor. “Soonir is a dangerous man. The people need protection from someone like him. Anyone who associates with that man will be considered to be his accomplices and treated as such… No matter who they are or where they come from.”
Pages of data from Fenrir’s research projects hung around the walls of the compartment, mute representations of the ruthless science the Asgard had employed in his studies.
“Talk to me, Rodney,” said Sheppard. “Tell me what this stuff all means. You’re the only person in the room with a PhD, remember?”