NOTES: My first multi. Thank you, PurpleYin, for betaing this.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate: Atlantis and all things associated with it belong to other people.

SPOILERS: through Siege, Part 1 for SGA, Covenant for SG1

RATING: K+


CLARITY

PART 2

THE VIDEO

We received a video letter from him. It was hand-delivered by a laconic SAS officer who departed as soon as the disc was signed for. My mother wept with joy, and my sister was relentlessly smug, as though this paltry evidence refuted the cold ache that had resided in my bones for weeks.

He was smiling into the camera, that tight, close-lipped grin. He spoke in his smooth, deep voice as though nothing was wrong, but his eyes told a different story. Seeing it cut me. I wanted to believe as much as the rest of my family. Some untenable chamber within my heart was filled with celebration for this vain proof of his existence, but I didn't believe. I couldn't believe. I knew he was dead.

Much later, I learned there was supposed to be more to it, not just his message, but we never saw that. Perhaps if we had, my life would be very different now. Some well-intentioned or over-secretive bureaucrats somewhere decided not to include the other part that would have supported what I knew. I try not to curse them for it, though even now, when all the anguish and anger have washed through me, I still occasionally feel a sparks of resentment and incredulity. I console myself with the thought that, were I in the same position, I do not know if I would have chosen any differently.

So I had only his brief tidings to work with. My mother jealously hoarded the disc, but with my grandma's help, I was able to copy it without mother's notice. I remember the ridiculous, giddy thrill my success gave me, like the hero in some spy show outsmarting the evil villain. Once I had it, I poured all my resources into unlocking its hidden truths. My money drained into programs, research, hardware. If I couldn't wring every drop of information from it, I was not by brother's sister. I would not betray his intellectual legacy. I would not let his death fade, unacknowledged, into infinity. I would prove I was right because his truth was more important than any ephemeral illusion of happiness.

The background had been blurred after the initial recording. That was the easiest part to deal with. There are only so many programs that can create such an effect with that type of video file. Of course, it was possible the file had been converted from some other format, but Occam's razor held true in this regard. It was just a matter of running through the reverse process of each program until the image became distinct. Although it seemed unremarkable, what I found in the background ended up being a bit more complicated.

My country possesses experts with exhaustive knowledge in nearly any topic you can imagine. It never occurred to me none of them would be able to identify the details in the architecture behind my brother. It was like going around in circles. Each time one specialist failed, I would be referred to another until I eventually ended with the one I'd consulted first. Were it not for progress in other areas, my frustration would have overwhelmed me.

Although the nameless officials actively obscured anything revealing from the video, they did a surprisingly poor job with the audio. Even so, the process was more complex than cleaning up the visuals. Not only did it require me to purchase more obtrusive hardware, which raised questions from my parents, but figuring out if unknown sounds are as they should be is infinitely more difficult than being able to look at an image to determine its clarity. Then again, perhaps that's why they didn't put as much effort into altering it. How can you analyze a sound that only a handful of people will recognize and none would admit to knowing?

Unlike working with the single background image, which could be circulated either in person or anonymously through hardcopies, I found myself exploiting the internet for my best chance with the peculiar little sounds I discovered. It was when I began consulting audio aficionados that my world truly began to change.

I knew my brother had worked on a top secret project. I knew those he worked for felt the need to alter his solitary personal message in more than six months in order to maintain their secrecy. Naturally, I took precautions. My equipment was not networked. Multiple security systems protected the computer I used to connect to the web, including one of my variations on a program my brother had developed. I also routed my signal through a veritable maze of connections. I used every trick my brother had ever taught me and everything I'd learned since then. Only a highly skilled professional could have hacked their way through to my system, but that's what happened shortly after I'd made contact with a Russian and a Czech.

I came home from a lecture at uni to find my main computer so infested by a virus that I had to wipe the harddrive. Since I'd compartmentalized everything on separate systems, very little was lost. Seems one of them snuck something in with their response that slipped past my security. When I reconnected with the Czech and the same thing happened again, I sent a nasty little thank you program that I imagine required them to wipe their own computer. Then I tried the Russian only to get a brief apology, reneging on the earlier offer. The tone was so formal compared to the hacker chat of the first message, it was as though someone else had written it or someone was looking over the writer's shoulder. I don't know what they were thinking. How could these two situations result in anything but more determination? I couldn't speak to anyone about it, but at last I had confirmation I was onto something!

And then I got a phone call.