Chapter 5: Keep Talking
A/N: Thanks for the reviews – and comments. It's a nice little break from the real world writing I have to do. I wish I could claim Kyte is my alter-ego, but that wouldn't be fair to her. This gets a little dark in places, and I must admit I had to do some re-writng, or it's be a bit too much, although some things could always surface later.
Dr. Weir sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee. Life had certainly gotten interesting less than an hour ago, but maybe that was just par for the course in Atlantis. It certainly seemed that way. For once she'd like to have Sheppard and his team have an uneventful mission, although the fact that they'd come back uninjured and with two additional people, could be considered an improvement.
She didn't know what to make of her guests, though, The tall blond major had come through the Gate, spotted her and said Dr. Lowell and team were in the galaxy looking for Ancient technology. He and a girl with the Ancient gene had escaped from them and been searching for Atlantis for the last few months.
Dr. Lowell. That name brought back memories. The two of them had handled a few negotiations together, but she always sure he wasn't the most impartial in the field, and he certainly had his special interest groups. If he were here, then there were some powerful and wealthy forces at work, apparently with strings to pull at SGC.
Then the girl had burst through, a force to be reckoned with, by all appearances. Well, girl probably wasn't the right term. She was petite, skinny, dirty, and by all appearances to trying to hang onto her sanity. One look at her haunted eyes said it all, but there was something else there too, she couldn't quite put her finger on. Caldwell had immediately summed up the entire situation and decided they were dangerous.
As if on cue, Col. Caldwell, strode into the conference room, all business. "Dr Weir, I demand that you place guards in the infirmary. Those two are dangerous."
"They are a couple of tired and probably scared humans from Earth, who have been on the run…"
"And you quickly forget the girl took on a half-dozen Wraith, and didn't seem to fear dying in the process."
"I understand your concern. Two marines, that's it. I'm sure Dr. Beckett has the situation under control." And they're probably asleep, by now, anyhow," she thought silently
"I'd also like permission to search their belongings."
"I don't think you'll find much, but…" her voice trailed off as he was already repeating orders into his radio.
She was grateful there was no further silence as Lorne, Sheppard, and McKay walked in. Sheppard and Lorne seemed to be teasing McKay about something as usual.
"Hey, Dr. Weir, you learn something new everyday," chuckled Lorne.
"Yeah," interrupted Sheppard, "We learned that Rodney does know how to share," laughed Sheppard. "What was it, did you decide there someone grouchier than you in this universe?"
"It was empathy, nothing more," replied Rodney, scowling. "I merely thought about how I'd feel in their situation. Besides, I thought rescuing damsels in distress was your area, Col. Sheppard?"
I'm not sure she'd put herself in the 'wanting to be rescued' category. Ronon will be disappointed to have missed seeing someone out-run the Wraith," mused Sheppard.
"Dr. Beckett said he'd be joining the meeting shortly," announced Teyla as joined the group.
"Good. Let's start," said Dr. Weir firmly. It was a pretty short meeting; there wasn't much to discuss other than the two new arrivals.
"Sorry, I'm late. I wanted to double-check some results from our guests," interrupted Dr. Beckett as he walked in and sat down.
Caldwell glared at him at the word "guest."
The doctor ignored him and continued, "They're both in fairly serious shape, suffering from dehydration, malnutrition, exposure, and exhaustion. A few more weeks and…well, they'll need to take it easy for a wee bit."
"What were you double-checking, Carson,' asked Dr. Weir with a note of concern.
"The lass has the Ancient gene, all right, but that's not the half of it. I ran the tests twice myself, the doctor continued, looking more serious than usual. " Her gene sequence is longer than usual." Seeing the puzzled looks around him, he attempted to explain, "Gene sequences are like a computer code. When a gene is on, certain, specific things happen. Dr. Randall has several l extra lines of 'code' associated with the gene. I don't know if this sequence is active, or what it does. All I know is the sequence is too long and added at too precise a location to occur by a natural act like mutation. Someone or something introduced it into her or an ancestor's genetic sequence."
The six people in the conference room sat in stunned silence for several long minutes.
Dr. Weir was the first to speak. "There's something more, isn't there Carson?"
"This is more Dr. Heightmeyer's area, but I'm guessing the she may have some issues to resolve from all this. Major Andrews, too. He's got some very old, healed wounds and his back is a mess of scars," finished Dr. Beckett.
Col. Caldwell seemed determined to have the last word. "I'd like to have a copy of the Dr. Randall's DNA sequence. Maybe Hermiod can have an Asgaard scientist take a look, when we get back to Earth. Given what General O'Neill has been through twice, with the Ancient databases, she could possess some sort of bridge between our evolutionary state and their knowledge."
"Yes, maybe the Asgaard can shed some light on the situation, but for now, both of our guests are staying here," said Dr. Weir, with a quiet firmness. "If there are people looking for them, Atlantis may be the safest place
"Don't you understand, she could be the key to it all?" persisted Caldwell.
"I'm sure someone used that as justification before, if she was an unwilling participant in this search." Dr. Weir responded with ice in her voice. Sheppard and others knew to stay out of this, especially the Lt. Col. Some things Dr. Weir took seriously, like the Geneva Convention and not destroying solar systems.
"I'm just saying you don't know what she is capable of, hell I bet even she doesn't know what she is capable of."
"Which is why Atlantis is the best place for her. If the Ancients engineered her, or someone in her family, this is her city," concluded Dr. Weir. "I'm sending a report to Stargate Command, along with my recommendations. You're welcome to do the same. At the least, General Landry will not be amused to hear there are others from Earth here."
"I'll do that, Dr. I think this meeting is adjourned."
Dr. Weir was impressed and a little nervous with the speed with which Stargate Command had responded. The ZPM from the Antarctica outpost had gone unaccounted for a week, apparently originally classified as "misfiled." All they needed was that, a cargo ship, and another stargate. She guessed there was an investigation underway to who had "borrowed" the ZPM.
She sighed and turned her attention to the two personnel files SGC had sent, trying to reconcile the files with the people now in the infirmary. Major Andrews' file was short and a bit of a mystery. He was from Texas, but there were no details before his 16th birthday, or what he decided his birthday was. Graduated high school near the top of class, political science major at UC Berkeley, then enlisted in the marines, with the usual postings, honors, and the like, until approximately 8 months ago. Apparently he'd been assigned to a special classified unit, presumably the organization now in Pegasus. "What had caused him to turn," she wondered. "Who was he in those early years?"
Dr. Randall's file was a little thicker. Born in a small New York State mining town, population 634, last of five children. On the all state and all conference cross country championship teams in the 5000m and 10,000m four years straight, two at the local public high school, two at a nearby private school, graduated top of her class. Cross-country scholarship at Stanford, division championship team all four years, while majoring in molecular biology and minoring in particle physics. Worked for a year in a physics research lab, then went back for PhD in molecular biology, and continued onto a post-doc. Reported missing by a roommate six months ago. Pictures and newsclippings: all describing a brilliant, funny, driven woman. "I'll agree with the brilliant and driven part," thought Dr. Weir, "the rest remains to be seen," although one last item caught her eye – numerous speeding tickets – seemed Dr. Randall had a fondness for taking her Ducati motorcycle out on a couple of freeways in the middle of the night and seeing how fast she could take the turns. "Sheppard would love this," Weir grinned.