“Without actually telling Ember what we’re looking for,” Daniel said.
“I’m sure you can manage that.”
Woolsey watched Sheppard’s team, plus Dr. Jackson, troop out of his office. Sheppard lagged behind.
“Yes?” Woolsey asked as the door closed.
“I was just wondering,” Sheppard said. Worrying, more likely from the expression on his face.
“Wondering what?”
Sheppard sat back down in the visitor chair, leaning back as though he were getting comfortable for a long stay. “There seems to be some tension between you and Jackson. I was wondering why.”
Woolsey took a deep breath. “That’s a long story.” And not one he really wanted to tell, actually. He wasn’t proud of his part in it, not anymore. “Let’s just say that I had some problems with SG-1 when I worked for the IOA. I don’t expect Dr. Jackson has forgotten.”
“I wouldn’t forget if somebody authorized my execution either,” Sheppard said mildly. “That’s not how we deal with compromised personnel around here. I’m just having a little trouble squaring that story with how things went down when we got Rodney back.”
Woolsey felt his face heat. Of course Sheppard had heard all about it from Carter. Of course. He and Carter were tight, part of the same military fraternity that he was forever excluded from. “The situation was different,” he said tightly.
Sheppard crossed his legs, leaning back to see the gateroom floor. The Stargate was dialing, the regularly scheduled communications dump from the SGC most likely, since nobody had called him and clearly an access code had been received. “I’m just wondering what the situation will be if we find Elizabeth. As much of a long shot as that may be.”
“Obviously given what happened with McKay…”
“I’m not saying that we shouldn’t be careful,” Sheppard said. “Hell, given the mess we had with McKay, we’ve got to be. But I want to know what the parameters are.”
“You mean you want to be sure that if we find someone claiming to be Dr. Weir we won’t just shoot her,” Woolsey said.
“That,” Sheppard said.
Woolsey steepled his hands, giving himself time to think. “You think we will find her. After how many years?”
“Jackson was gone a year before SG-1 found him,” Sheppard said. “If Elizabeth has ascended, and if the so-called rules are what Jackson says, yes, I think she’s out there.” His eyes met Woolsey’s, clear and absolutely frank. “And if she’s out there, we’ll find her.”
Woolsey took a deep breath. “Then I suppose I’d better start laying the ground work,” he said. “We’ll need an Alpha Site quarantine. There’s no way we can bring her straight back to Atlantis until we’ve completely ruled out any Replicator involvement. Understood?”
“Understood.” Sheppard got to his feet. “Then I’ll get Lorne on that. Just in case. He can make that a priority before his next scheduled mission.”
“Very good,” Woolsey said. He watched Sheppard leave. Two solid years of working together, and he still had no idea what made the man tick.
His laptop chimed softly, letting him know that the email download from the SGC had arrived. One was marked highest priority. He opened that one first and read it with an increasing sense of dread. Then he opened the intercom and called Sheppard back from where he’d been standing in the control room, leaning over Zelenka’s shoulder to look at something on his screen. “Colonel Sheppard, can you come back in here a moment?”
Sheppard stuck his head back in. “What’s up?”
“Come in and close the door,” Woolsey said grimly. He waited until Sheppard had done so and stood with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been ordered to report to the SGC tomorrow morning, their time. I’m supposed to leave things ‘in good order’ with you in charge.”
“Not again,” Sheppard said.
“I’m afraid so.” Woolsey looked away from him, a not entirely unexpected sorrow rising in his chest. “I told you this business with McKay might cost me my job. It looks like it has.” He looked up. “I’m not sure I’m coming back this time.”
“When they tell you to bring your stuff…”
“Exactly.” Woolsey made himself smile, though he suspected it was more of a grimace. “No mention of a review. Just a recall. That means there’s no hearing and no defense. The IOA has made their decision.”
“I’m sorry,” Sheppard said, and he sounded like he meant it. “I’m really sorry to see you go.”
“Well. It’s one of those things.” Woolsey tried to sound firm and dispassionate, though he didn’t at all. “I knew this might happen when we played fast and loose with the Wraith. But that was a risk I was willing to take.” He was afraid he was going to say entirely the wrong thing if this conversation continued, something completely unprofessional. “Just wanted to let you know,” he said, and stood up. “I’m going to go do some packing now.” He pushed past Sheppard and made it into the transport chamber before his expression changed.
Lorne assembled his team in the jumper bay. Sgt. Anthony and PFC Harper were both relatively new to Atlantis, part of the Marine contingent assigned to replace people who’d been transferred out while they were on Earth. They’d spent most of their stay in the Pegasus galaxy so far getting oriented and then immediately facing a Wraith invasion of the city. Pretty much par for the course as far as newcomer orientation went.
The two other Marine privates were even greener, having come out with the latest shipment of supplies on Daedalus a couple of weeks ago. They looked like they could barely resist bouncing up and down on their heels at the prospect of actually getting out of the city to explore another world.
“All right,” he said. “You’ve all read the initial survey team’s report on M47-533. They say it’s suitable for use as an alpha site. I want you to go out there and find out whether that’s still true. We all know that there are a million things that a three-hour survey of an entire planet can miss. Let’s spend a little more time checking this place out before we set up a lot of tents and equipment there.”
“Yes, sir,” Anthony said. “How big a base are we talking about? Do we need to be able to evacuate the entire Atlantis expedition there?”
“Not this time. Figure we need room for maybe a dozen people, but they may have to be there for some time. So think about the logistics of that: they’ll need food, water, and shelter. As well as not to be eaten by carnivorous beasts, fried by weird radiation, or phased into another plane of existence by glowy rocks. Got it?”
“No glowy rocks,” Anthony said. “Yes, sir.” He looked like he thought Lorne was joking. Lorne wished he were.
“As you can see from the survey team’s report, they found some evidence of previous human activity near the Stargate. Who can tell me what that’s likely to look like, based on their report?”
“Some rocks with carvings on them, sir,” Harper said promptly.
“That’s right,” Lorne said. The rest of the team looked relieved. It made him wonder if they’d read the report at all. It was, to be fair, five pages of incredibly dry briefing materials, but the scientists had an alarming way of burying important warnings in the middle of snooze-inducing paragraphs. “So don’t put the alpha site down on top of them, or the archaeologists will come yell at us. It doesn’t matter if even they think they’re boring rocks. They’ll still come yell at us, or, more to the point, at me. Which I will not like. Understood?”
“Don’t touch glowy rocks,” Anthony said. “Don’t touch rocks with carvings on them. Got it, sir.”
“Then go do it,” Lorne said. “And don’t be a wiseass.”
“Understood, sir,” Anthony said.