Chapter 26

In his facility, Akalus gradually reintegrated his dispersed form, and donned his suit to continue his work. Sheppard was saved from the Reliquiae, at least there was that much to celebrate, but his inability to capture Sheppard infuriated him. That little hybrid female was trouble and he needed her out of the way if he was going to get to the human. She appeared to think of herself as a bodyguard, or perhaps something closer. With her constantly hovering around Sheppard carrying that weapon she used against him, there would be no opportunity to abduct him and he was running out of time.

He sat down at his workstation and called up the holographic display of his work…McKay's work mostly. He had added a few extra calculations, but as yet, things weren't quite right. He was missing something…some factor he wasn't quite grasping…a safety protocol not yet overridden. He scoured the display, reading quickly, absorbing, computing, considering alternative methods, but in the end, he kept coming back to the same formula that was illuminated here in front of him. But it wasn't working. The simulation showed the splitting of the wormhole to be limited to only a handful of gates. The draw would not be strong enough to reverse universal expansion unless every Stargate in every galaxy the Lanteans had ever travelled to and occupied were awoken and connected back to Doranda's Spacegate.

Frustrated, he chose to step away for a while to clear his mind. His failure had left him so full of anger that he could not think clearly. The problem or solution was most likely staring him straight in the face, but he was too distracted to see it.

And so, he walked. He took a transporter down to the very lowest level of the facility, and once he exited, a tunnel lay ahead of him. The sound of his footsteps echoed back in the silence as he progressed along it. He ran over the processes, the protocols that had been overridden, knowing that every one had been addressed. He couldn't shake the feeling that Rodney McKay had sabotaged the programming in some way, all the while pretending to be working hard to solve the problem. The man considered himself to be a genius; it was likely he had the necessary arrogance to try such deception even while under his watch.

He entered a large chamber now, one dug into the bedrock to form a hollow sizeable enough to house the most essential component of his operation. To one side were cells, part of an old underground jail the Ancients had set there as part of their facility, but Akalus had extended on that, having had a team of now deceased workers excavate this vast additional room down from the surface through several hundred feet of soil and rock. He'd killed them to cover the existence of the chamber, and anything else they might have seen at the site. And that was because of what he now housed here.

He halted and regarded the Stargate. It had taken him years to source the now obsolete transportation device. It had been removed from its dais centuries ago and lost to time, traded, sold, stolen and eventually forgotten until an excavation for a new arena had uncovered it and it had been purchased by a vile and disreputable mercenary called Kaliq. He had negotiated the payment for the item via untraceable communications, had it packaged in a way that made it unidentifiable, and then arranged for it to be delivered to the chamber from above by a one-man haulage operation without the driver of the transporting vessel every laying eyes on what lay below ground level. Still, just to be safe, the vehicle had met with a terrible accident before the driver could return home, and every record the creature had possessed of the operation was also destroyed.

So, officially the Stargate was once again lost. Only he knew the truth of where it now resided.

But all the effort he had gone to in acquiring it was for nothing if he couldn't get the wormhole connection programme to work. He approached the control chair now situated a safe distance in front of the inactive gate, turning it to face him. This was the point from which his whole plan would be put into action. The chair had been adapted to his needs, and now automatically dialled the Dorandan Space Gate and could only be used for that function. It had no other purpose, and once Sheppard had activated it and set the wormhole connection process in motion, there would be no stopping the slow but steady destruction of the universe. It would take time, but he had waited this long to put things right. He could wait for as long as it took knowing that he would eventually right all the wrongs of his people and their half-witted descendants.

He smoothed his gloved hand across the gel pad controls, then stepped up to take the seat himself. Of course, it did not react to him at all, his former Lantean DNA now long gone. He had never successfully found a way to override that essential component and neither had anyone else. It was the one thing the Lanteans had done right – genetically coding their technology to work for no other race unless initialised to do so by them. At least no one else could use it to do harm.

He was beginning to feel more composed again, stronger, more sure of himself. Each time he was dispatched by an EM pulse it took something out of him, but the suit gave him stability – a way to hold the bonds of his energy together even when he felt weak and disjointed. He recalled the heights of the Lantean empire. Seeing Captain Aldaeus take up a seat such as this to fly the Libera, the ship his wife and daughter had tried to flee on, only to be blasted out of existence. For a fleeting second her saw his wife's face clearly, sad and desperate as she had looked when he'd insisted she go on ahead while he completed his work to secure the city. How he wished he had delegated that work to another so they could leave together as she had wanted him to. All of the pain, all of the anguish, the loneliness…he would not have known any of it if he had left with his family and perished at their side.

He snapped up from the seat, now rigidly to attention. He couldn't afford such moments of self-pity. He had work to do, and that sort of thinking was nothing but a distraction.

He struck out in the direction of his workplace again, back to those confounding calculations. He sat in front of the display, scrolling through lines of coding. Once upon a time he would have been able to do this work himself, but his mind was addled with anger and bitterness and knowledge of such things had become lost in the fog of time. But this time, as the data scrolled before his 'vision', something jumped out at him. It the hundreds of lines of Lantean coding, two superfluous digits were buried – a four and a two. That had been careless of McKay, stray human in such precise calculation. Except…McKay wasn't that careless. It was a code…or a message, or perhaps straight forward sabotage. He stared at the digits, so obviously out of place now he'd spotted them, and wondered how he could ever have overlooked them. He deleted them from the programme and set it to run again, and this time, when his simulation activated the Stargate and connected to the Spacegate, that one wormhole branched out exponentially from that point, connecting one after the other with currently dormant Stargates to the furthest recesses of the galaxy, and then on…and on. The power from the supermassive black hole drove it on, keeping the gates open and energised, tying up the whole gate system across many galaxies with its one solitary purpose – to drag everything into the void.

Akalus sat back and watched in disbelief, realising this was the closest he had ever been to success. The only component now missing was Sheppard himself. He'd hoped to keep him close by using the young girl's form, but the pathetic creature had died too quickly and spoiled that chance. Then had tried unsuccessfully to take him in his non-corporeal form. They would be expecting him to try that again and would be ready for him. He needed a new plan of attack.

Akalus rose from his seat and crossed to a refrigeration unit. Inside it sat several vials of enzyme, taken from Marrath when he murdered her. The sight of it planted the seed of an idea in his mind. One that just might work.

He needed a new host.

oooOOOooo

With everything calm again in Anastan, Oolanae considered their next move. She called her sisters to order from her place at the centre of the great meeting hall. 'Sisters. Let us be focused on the task at hand.'

A hush fell on the room. All eyes looked back at her in anticipation.

'Our work using the research gained from the Rammarant prince goes well,' she began, feeling a swell of excitement in those surrounding her at its mention. 'He had clearly compiled a DNA strand he believed to be Wraith, and had even begun to manipulate it to make us able to devour the lifeforce of any humanoids to gain their strength. Our failure to retrieve the human female does not change that. We will eventually prevail in our attempts to be whole again, with or without the assistance of the female or the Wraith Slayer.'

A muted rumble of hatred issued forth at her use of his title, but stayed respectfully quiet enough not to prevent her from continuing.

'The attack on the Birajan rebels was our one chance to lure them out of hiding. I doubt they will fall for such a ploy again.'

'So we take the fight to them,' a sister called Ucillath called out. 'They are shielded, but that shield is unlikely to be powered by a fully functioning Zero Point Module after all these millennia. It would be possible to drain it with sustained bombardment. I believe we can drive them out into the open where we have a better chance of defeating them. We may not need the Wraith Slayer anymore, but the female still has intrinsic value if possessing her might speed up our transformation.'

Oolanae sensed agreement in many of her sisters, but not all. 'They have a Lantean facility and all that entails,' she reminded those keen to fight. 'Their drone weaponry could cause catastrophic damage to our craft.'

'So, what would you have us do?' Ucillath charged. 'Stay here and hide forever when we are so close to our goal? Once transformed, we need fear no one.'

Whispers floated about the chamber.

Dissent.

Oolanae could feel it rising. Since Marrath's death, her Reliquiae sisters had been noticeably unsettled, driven by fear for their own mortality, no doubt. She had to take charge and reassure them that her approach was sound.

'We could complete our work much quicker using the Wraithkin,' Ucillath insisted. She had been close to Marrath in their time, an advisor of sorts with the dominant female's ear. She held some sway amongst their kind, and Oolanae felt a surge of suspicion that Ucillath intended to sow seeds of doubt about her ability to lead. This was not just a challenge to her plan, but a challenge to her adopted position as leader.

Oolanae pondered her statement, angered by it, but careful not to let that show. 'We can, but if we die in attempting to gain that which will only speed our progress a little, would it not be too high a price to pay? We have waited this long, what is a few weeks more?'

'If the Wraith Slayer and his people come for us, it would be better if we were strong enough to meet the challenge.'

Oolanae cast her a patient smile. 'I understand your fears, Sister,' she purred, the veiled insult clear enough if Ucillath chose to hear it. 'But we are already strong…and I do not believe the humans will seek us out now they know that. If Akalus had not intervened, they would have fallen at our hands today.'

Ucillath's gaze turned icy. Fear was a weakness none of them liked to be accused of, and it certainly wouldn't help if she wanted to challenge Oolanae in their future hierarchy. 'I am not afraid,' she retorted. 'I am not the one suggesting we hide within these walls.'

'If we attack it will draw attention to us,' another, Valhoudrae, interjected. 'Akalus will surely come. We only need the female. Perhaps we should try to separate them somehow. I still believe capturing her should be considered a priority.'

'They are a team…separating them will be difficult,' Tarrantha pointed out. 'And we do not know enough about their incentives or loyalties to drive a wedge between them. I do not believe that will succeed.'

Glad to have Tarrantha's support, Oolanae watched Valhoudrae shrink a little in stature, humbled by such an obviously critical flaw in her plan. Another challenge thwarted.

'We cannot allow desperation to cloud our thinking,' Oolanae announced, raising her voice so it rang out clear within the circular walls of that stone chamber. 'We must exercise patience to ensure our eventual victory. And it will taste sweeter if we all make it to full transformation.' A murmur of agreement swept through her sisters, and Ucillath reluctantly backed down, resuming her seat. 'So, if we are all in agreement, we will simply continue to expand on Valkalar's studies for now. But if we are unsuccessful, we will need to find a way to infiltrate the base, and perhaps then, as Ucillath suggested, a continuous barrage would be our best hope. But whatever method we employ, we must take the female alive…the Wraith Slayer too, if possible. I want his death to be a slow one to punish him for his crimes against our kind.'

Her sisters voiced their support with deep-throated growls of approval. Oolanae's mind filled with images of how they pictured his demise, and she allowed them their fantasies for now. But she had already decided that his final moment of life would be hers to take. Of course, that didn't mean her sisters couldn't have their fun with him first.

oooOOOooo

This was the task he'd been dreading but simply had to see through. They'd been fortunate enough to find that a shovel was a standard piece of kit in rebel transporters, because apparently the Ancients weren't big on digging in such a primitive way. Sheppard guessed they could have fashioned something for the job, but he was glad they hadn't needed to once Mishta had provided them with a more than adequate tool for the job.

Sheppard sat beside Mishta as they watched Ronon dig out what Sheppard had already decided would be the last few inches of soil for the grave. She leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and aura of sadness engulfing them both. A few feet away, the body bag containing Jemma's remains lay in the shadows cast by the mount their cave facility cut into. From time to time he glanced over at it, feeling a sense of unease, creeped out by the thought that Akalus had used the poor girl's corpse to keep track of him and his wellbeing. He half expected her to sit up and start struggling her way out of the bag, but he knew that was just his imagination getting the better of him. Akalus had to know by now that his cover was blown. He wouldn't try to come back to this particular vessel. That would be the fate of some other poor soul. Perhaps next time they encountered him they'd trust their instincts if someone just didn't seem right. By this point, Sheppard was past giving anyone the benefit of the doubt in this galaxy.

Sheppard and Ronon had taken it in turns to dig, the ground already baked hard by the twin suns even after all the rain of the previous weeks. It was partly because the work was laborious and tiring, and partly because while one of them worked, the other could keep watch, Kheprian gun in one hand, their own weapon in the other.

Mishta had chosen to join them a few minutes ago after helping Mehra carry Jemma's body out from the stasis chamber it had been stored in. Now she held the Kheprian weapon ready to quickly dispel any assault by Akalus. Sheppard had been impressed with how she'd held it together when Akalus had attacked her during the Reliquiae raid, prepping the weapon despite that monster's attempt to crack her skull open. Right now, he couldn't think of anyone better to watch their backs while they carried out this thankless task.

'Think that'll do it, Buddy,' he called over to Ronon as he tossed aside another shovel full of dirt. He was waist deep in the hole now, so it had to be around three feet deep. Not the traditional six feet you got back on Earth, but he figured the effort to go three feet deeper might just kill them too.

Ronon swiped the perspiration from his brow and vaulted his way back up to ground level, heading over to them where they sat in the shade. Mishta immediately passed him a flask of water, which he accepted gratefully and emptied with a few deep gulps.

That done, he shifted his gaze to the body bag, staring at it in contemplative silence for a while before saying, 'I feel bad for that kid.'

Sheppard squinted up at him, silhouetted as he was in the sunlight. 'I know, Bud. We all do.'

'You gave her the benefit of the doubt…treated her fair. If there was any remnant of her left in there –'

'There wasn't,' he assured him. 'She was gone before we got her back to the rebel camp.'

Ronon nodded, but Sheppard could see he was still troubled. Ronon, much like him, had spent most of his life protecting others. He'd entered military service to shield people from being attacked or exploited by enemies…particularly the young and vulnerable. He felt that he'd failed Jemma at some level, and Sheppard knew that because at some level he felt the same way. But they couldn't have done anything to save her. Akalus had already possessed her body before they even set eyes on her.

'We should bury her quickly…get you back inside the safety of the facility,' Mishta prompted, nudging him. 'You shouldn't be out here for too long.'

'Fair enough,' he sighed, getting to his feet.

Ronon followed him over to the body bag, each of them taking an end to carry it over to the hole. She weighed next to nothing, and he didn't think that was just down to the enzyme boost he'd had. That had to have passed by now. It was as if she were hollow.

They got down on their knees at the grave side and lowered her down as carefully as they could, letting her drop the final few inches beyond the reach of their outstretched arms.

Then Sheppard took up the shovel and began covering her up. At least this part was easier than the digging…physically anyway. But he couldn't shake the fact that they were leaving her behind on a world far from where she belonged. That stung deep in his soul.

When the hole was half-full, Mishta tapped him on the shoulder and offered to take over. It was hot work and she seemed keen to help so he let her, standing back with Ronon as they watched the hole gradually fill, shovel full by shovel full. Though it felt disrespectful, they all stamped the ground down, flattening it as much as they could, conscious that the dirt would settle and reveal the body-sized hole more quickly if they didn't. The last thing they wanted was some sicko coming by and digging her up to see what was hidden there, and it would make any wild animals in the region less likely to drag her away either. Though he knew it was just an empty husk, Sheppard couldn't stand the thought of Jemma's body being desecrated again. She had been through enough in her short life to merit her the right to some dignity in death now.

Once done, and with a dusting of finer dirt scattered over the stamped down surface to camouflage it to look like the surrounding terrain, the grave was barely visible even to them. Sheppard doubted it would catch anyone else's eye.

They stood a moment in silence, staring down at the spot. It was hard to just walk.

'Should we…say something?'

Sheppard looked over at Ronon, who had asked the question. 'I guess.'

'Do you have a prayer for the dead?' Mishta asked. 'Something to guide them on their journey?'

Ronon shrugged. 'She's from Earth. It's your call,' he told Sheppard.

Though he hadn't been to church for years, Sheppard dredged up a line he remembered from his mother's funeral. One that had stuck with him all this time. He paraphrased for their situation.

'Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen.'

Ronon nodded, satisfied, and stalked his way back to the cave. Sheppard hung back a moment or two longer, before Mishta prompted him again. 'You have done all you can for her, John. You really should come back inside now.'

He let Mishta gently pull him away, all the time thinking that yes, it was all he could do, but it somehow wasn't enough. Somewhere back on Earth, perhaps in his own lifetime, perhaps another, a mother was wondering where her child was…a father was beating himself up over not being there to help his daughter in her time of need…or a sibling was growing up missing their playmate. And those thoughts above everything else made his hatred for Akalus soar.

It wasn't enough to just go home and end his plans for universal destruction. Sheppard wanted to end him too.

oooOOOooo

The pain in her chest just would not go away, and Mishta worried that she might be sickening. They'd been back inside the facility for a couple of hours now and no matter what she tried she couldn't get comfortable, the pressure feeling like a rock gradually crushing her beneath its weight.

She pressed the heel of her hand to her sternum and felt just the slightest alleviation, but the discomfort returned as soon as she removed her hand again. She felt breathless, almost as though she had run many miles and exhausted her body and lungs beyond their capacity. In truth, she knew it was none of those things, and was most likely down to the anxiety that had been quietly building since the reality of John leaving had encroached into her life. It had been spoken of before many times, but without the Kheprian time dilation drive working it had remained something she could ignore for a while. Now…now it was really happening, and the pain it was causing her was something she wasn't sure she would ever get over.

He was talking with McKay again at the controls of the facility, watching the sensors, alert to the threat of Akalus who would undoubtedly try to breach their defences in pursuit of him. McKay and Lansha had set up a disruption device that afternoon, one that would send out a considerable EM pulse that would at the very least buy them time to reach the jumper and relocate before he was able to reassemble. But it was still vital to be aware of his approach or he might use his stealth as an advantage, waiting for them to break cover.

As if feeling her eyes on him, John glanced her way, offering a fleeting and somewhat grim smile. She knew this was hurting him too, and she suspected she knew why, because she knew what she would do if she were in his shoes. They would go back in time and try to change things so Phylacos never happened. And if Phylacos never happened…

She slipped out of her seat and ambled out of the door and into the corridor. John had tried to explain why she couldn't leave with him in the least distressing way he could, but it was apparent that if she travelled back and anything in the timeline changed, she would cease to be. That was hard to imagine and had filled her with fear as the words had first filtered through. But was there anything to really fear? It wasn't as if she would die…she would simply never be. The concept of such nothingness was just too hard to absorb, and she'd thought at first of how she would miss John, but that wouldn't be true either. It wasn't even that she would know nothing. She simply would never have been. There would be nothing of her in this universe. She would not know fear or love or long for things she once had because she would not exist. Cold enveloped her at that thought. In some ways she welcomed the idea of oblivion because life was sometimes so terrifying, but at least it was life. Then a voice inside her told her she and Lansha should leave with John and take the risk, that if they were meant to be the universe would find a way. She suspected that Dr McKay would laugh at the simplicity of her belief and give her a thousand reasons why it could not happen that way, but she could hope…couldn't she?

Her radio alerted her to an incoming message. She activated it and felt an immediate sense of belonging as she heard Juroah's voice on the other end.

'Mishta. Are you well?'

'I am for now. And you?'

'We have relocated and are beginning the process of setting up camp. It has been another long day.'

'That it has,' she agreed, with a vague smile as she thought of all that had happened. 'So, are you just checking up on us, or is there something you need?'

The old Birajan hesitated and she felt certain she heard a sigh. 'We have received a message from Marmotah.'

The pain in her chest increased a little at the sound of that name. 'Already?' she snorted, covering her worry. 'Is he so pathetic he could not even manage a few hours with his old tribe, or did he annoy them so much they told him he was not welcome?'

Another pause, then, 'They're gone.'

She frowned, giving the radio in her hand an odd look. 'Gone? The whole of the Rammarant tribe just upped and left?' she half-laughed, a nervous, sinking feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

'I mean they're dead, Mishta.'

Now she paused, letting that sink in. 'All of them?' she eventually asked, he voice barely stronger than a whisper.

'So he says. We contacted sources near to the Rammarant territory and they confirmed there has been an attack. There are numerous reports of smoke rising from the citadel.'

She heard a sound behind her now and found John loitering at a distance. She gestured for him to join her. 'What is he doing now?'

'The Founders said he could return to join us for the time being at least…that they would devise a role for him that would make up for his failings.'

Mishta glanced up at John, seeing his puzzled frown. 'It's Juroah,' she explained to him. 'He says Marmotah has told them the whole of the Rammarant tribe has been killed so he is being allowed to return to their camp.'

'Who is with you?' Juroah asked.

'It's John.'

'I hope you are looking after Mishta, Human.'

'I thought she was supposed to be looking after me,' John quipped, flashing her a quick smile.

'That she is,' Juroah chuckled. 'That she is.'

'How certain are we that these sources are telling the truth about the Rammarant tribe?' Mishta asked her mentor, getting the conversation back on course. 'It's not as though opinions cannot be bought.'

'I don't think that's what this is,' Juroah told her, his tone now grave again. 'Marmotah sounded genuinely shaken about what he found – said it was carnage. My sources said they believed it was a Reliquiae attack.'

Again, she glanced at John, the news apparently as confusing to him as it was to her. 'Why would the Reliquiae attack them?'

'Teyla,' John said, deep in thought. 'They were looking for Teyla.'

Mishta realised he was right. Prince Valkalar had taken samples from her to build a Wraith army, and somehow the Reliquiae had found out.

'If the prince was anywhere close to figuring out Wraith DNA, then we have a problem,' John said. 'If the Reliquiae can reverse the process that made them eat humans, no humanoid lifeform in this galaxy will be spared.'

'Then the Gods help us all,' Juroah breathed on the other end of the communication.

John was tense, his mind no doubt already running over all that this meant. She could see he was troubled and they needed to bring the call to an end. 'Stay well hidden, Juroah. And keep contact with all outsiders to a minimum. I will be in touch,' Mishta told him.

'Stay safe, all of you,' Juroah replied, ending the communication.

'We have to stop them,' John growled, jaw clenched, eyes hardening. 'We can't leave Gragoffa with things like this.'

'If you leave, it doesn't have to be this way at all,' she pointed out. 'You can change everything, including what happens to the Wraith.'

He nodded, swallowing deeply. 'I wish…I wish you could come with us.' His eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and he reached out to grasp her hand, holding it firmly. 'If there was any way –'

'Who says I'm not coming?' she smirked, putting on a brave face. 'I'm a pretty unstoppable force when I set my mind to it. The universe wouldn't dare vanish me out of existence.'

He huffed out a laugh into his chest, but there was a sadness to the sound that broke her composure. She wrapped her arms around him and clung on tight, as if just holding onto him would make everything okay. She felt his arms fold around her, pulling her in against him, felt his heart pounding, but she found no joy in knowing this was as hard for him as it was for her. She cursed herself for her foolish human emotions. She should never have shown him how she felt. If she'd kept her distance and treated him as the others did, this would not be so hard on them both… or not on him, at least.

'I need to go out for a while,' she told him. 'I'm not entirely sure I trust Marmotah's story.'

'I wish you wouldn't.'

'I have to. He's been so deceptive for so many years…I need to do this to settle my mind. If he's playing them, I have to let Juroah know.'

'Why don't you let them check it out?'

'They're busy enough setting up camp. They won't have a chance before tomorrow. If he's lying, I can give them a heads-up.'

'I'll come with you,' he said, pulling back a little so he could look her in the eye.

She shook her head. 'No…you have enough to do here preparing for tomorrow. I won't be long. I'll check it out and come straight back.'

'I'm not happy about this…'

'You're worried about me?' she smirked, cupping his face in her hand. 'You're so sweet.'

He gave her a slightly annoyed grimace and pulled away. 'Of course I'm worried. It's not like we don't have a few bad guys breathing down our necks right now.'

'None of whom are after me, so I'll be fine,' she assured him. 'Tell Lansha I'll be back soon.' She leaned in and planted a kiss on his cheek. He closed his eyes as if savouring the sensation. 'Well, since Rodney isn't screaming in my ear that he's picked something up on the sensors you should be okay to leave…just…be careful, okay?'

'I will,' she promised.

He stepped back and took hold of her hand, leading her toward the transporter. 'I'll ride with you to the jumper bay.'

In the bay, John hung back and watched her board her craft from a distance, holding up a hand to acknowledge her departure as she began to rise toward the opening he'd asked Rodney to activate for her. As the doors above opened and a shimmer of light showed the shield falling away, she rose into the night sky and then set her craft in motion, sweeping away over the landscape towards the city of the Rammarant tribe, not sure whether or not she wanted Marmotah's story to be false.

Neither option boded well.


A/N: For those interested and not in the know, I chose the number 42 for Rodney to use in his sabotage of the complex coding and calculations for overriding Stargate protocols as I knew it was a number he has included himself in passcodes. It's mentioned by John in the episode Quarantine, when he remembers McKay's passcode to get into Atlantis' systems even though McKay thought he never would, and is in reference to the The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy Series by the late, great Douglas Adams. The number 42 is the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe and everything, calculated by a super computer called Deep Thought after it spent seven and a half million years figuring it out. Just shows the importance of choosing your words carefully! lol It seemed appropriate for McKay to use it here to stop Akalus destroying life, the universe and everything.

Once again, thanks to everyone reviewing this story. It's great to get your feedback.