“Exactly! The first Stargate experiments in the 1940s did it with a generator. And in fact, the Heliopolis in our galaxy had a broken DHD and the gate had to be dialed manually, using a lightning strike for power. We, however, don’t need such extreme measures, since we have—” McKay gestured triumphantly “—a ZPM.”
So that was why McKay had taken it, plunging the entire complex into darkness. He had probably wanted to conserve its resources, saving them for the ’gate. And hopefully for Atlantis, if they could get it there and deal with Dorane. “So we have a plan. Except that if Dorane’s taken over the ’gate room — which he probably has by now — he’s not going to open the force shield for us.”
“Yes, the plan has flaws,” Rodney admitted.
“The plan’s flaws could end up turning us into impact events.” If they tried to go through the ’gate to Atlantis with the force shield up, it would be suicide. When the Genii had tried to invade the city, John had killed around fifty-five of them by managing to raise the shield while they were in transit through the wormhole. He hadn’t had any other choice, and seeing the city that was the only chance of protecting his people from the Wraith about to be invaded had made it an easy decision. He shifted uncomfortably on the hard floor. The itching had mostly stopped, but now he was having weird aches in his hands and arms. “But we can go to another world, some place we have a trading agreement with, then dial Atlantis from there and try to bluff our way in—”
McKay grimaced unhappily. “We can try. But I suspect that the Ancients did more than just blow up the DHD. If they wanted to keep Dorane here, the logical thing to do is to alter the gate’s control crystal so it couldn’t dial anywhere except Atlantis. They could still ’gate back and forth through it using the jumpers, but Dorane would have no choice but to stay here or dial Atlantis and walk into the force shield.” He gave a little shrug. “It could also explain why he wasn’t too worried about finding me, or making sure you were dead. If the only way off this planet is the ’gate, and the ’gate will only connect to Atlantis, a place which he would shortly control, there’s not much point in hanging around here eliminating pesky survivors. We’ll have to test it, but—”
“But you’re right, that is logical.” John let out his breath wearily. He started to run a hand through his hair and dropped it abruptly when he encountered the spines. Something else occurred to him, and he said, “You know, that holo projector, set off by itself in that room like it is — I bet it was a memorial to the Thesians, the people who died here, that Dorane killed. Whoever they were, the Ancients picked them to help build this place. Their meeting hall, their United Nations of the Pegasus Galaxy. They must have been pretty special people.”
McKay’s mouth twisted downward. “And Dorane probably developed his control drugs so the Ancients could show up here to check on things, see it all looked normal from the outside, and not have any reason to question anyone’s word that everything was fine.”
John grimaced in agreement. It would be the same way on Atlantis with the Athosians and any ’gate teams who had been out during Dorane’s arrival. Everything would look fine until it was too late.
They sat there for a time in glum silence. John shook his head, shifting with a wince. His arms were aching right down to his fingertips. To distract himself, he said, “We’ll need to go back up through that main shaft. That could be tricky.”
“The one Kavanagh ‘discovered’?” McKay’s expression was sour. “The Koan probably don’t use it. It didn’t look as if it had been opened in years, and I don’t think they could fake that.”
John nodded. “We can duck in somewhere out of sight until the detector shows it’s clear up on the surface — and hope Dorane didn’t leave them another jammer.” It wasn’t so much a plan as a statement of intent, but it was what they had at the moment. “We need to — Oh, crap—” An intense pain seized John’s hands, as if he had thrust both into a wood chipper. He doubled over, tucking them under his arms, trying to curl into a fetal ball against the agony.
After an endless moment the pain receded, and John managed to gasp a breath. His eyes were watering and he was trembling and Rodney was hovering over him repeating, “What happened? What happened? What happened?”
“Just…shut up for a minute. I’ll tell you when I know.” His stunned brain was starting to process sensation again. Biting his lip, he wiggled his fingers tentatively. Oh, yeah, it’s worse. He pushed himself upright, Rodney gripping his shoulder when he nearly swayed over. John leaned back against the wall and took a deep breath. Might as well get it over with. He pulled the first glove off.
McKay made a garbled noise, then coughed and managed to say, “Well, that was… Not entirely unexpected.”
John had claws. Short and curved and silvery-gray, they protruded from his fingertips, formed out of what had been his fingernails. He flexed his fingers and they slid back into their nearly invisible sheaths. He knew the Koan had claws, but somehow, whatever Rodney said, he hadn’t expected this. He pulled off the other glove to examine that set, wondering what else he should be expecting.
Rodney was staring, fascinated. “That’s so—” He reached out, carefully pressed John’s fingertip and a half-inch of claw slid out. “It’s very like a cat’s claws. I wonder—”
“Hey, stop that.” Indignant, John yanked his hand back. “That feels weird.”
“It looks pretty weird, too,” Rodney admitted readily.
John took a deep breath. It had been a really, really long day, and he thought his and Rodney’s relationship could benefit from a time-out just at the moment. He used his forearm to rub the sweat off his face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Look, you need to get some sleep before dawn. Give me the pistol and I’ll watch the detector.”
McKay sat up straight, eyeing him narrowly. “No.”
“Huh?” John stared at him, then pressed his lips together. Even though it proved his argument, it still pissed him off, which ought be a sign of approaching insanity, only it actually felt pretty normal. “Oh, a minute ago, everything’s fine, and now my claws grew out, so you don’t want me to have our only weapon. Doesn’t that prove my point?”
“No, it does not. Nothing proves your point, because your point is stupid and defeatist. Note that I said stupid first before defeatist, because that’s the salient feature of your wholly ridiculous point.” Rodney unclipped his holstered sidearm and held it in his lap, staring at it. Then he said, “You have to give me your word you won’t shoot yourself.”
“What? Oh.” John had forgotten about Dr. Gall. A young guy, a super genius like Rodney, with his life mostly sucked out of him by a Wraith, he had put a bullet in his own head so Rodney wouldn’t have to stay with him in the downed Wraith ship. So Rodney could go help John. John looked at the ceiling, around at the stained walls, uncomfortable. Would he use a gun on himself? He didn’t think so, but then Gall probably hadn’t planned on suicide before the Wraith had taken him, either. Feeling incredibly awkward, he finally said, stiffly, “I give you my word I won’t shoot myself.”
Rodney looked at him for such a long moment that John turned shy and picked up the life sign detector, fiddling with it to make sure he could still make the buttons work. It was a little strange working with the claws when they kept coming out unexpectedly. It was like having extended fingertips with no feeling.
Finally Rodney put the pistol on the floor next to John. He shifted over to pick up the flashlight, saying, “I’m going to turn this off to save the batteries. We only have two flashlights and no spares.”
“Good idea.” John left the gun where it was. He just hoped Rodney wouldn’t have reason to regret asking him for that promise.