Chapter Three
The day of her memorial dawns bright and clear. Outside the city the ocean glimmers a serene blue. It feels wrong. It should be dark, and stormy. The waves should be rising angrily to batter at the city walls, the angry screaming of the wind an echo for the silent scream of my soul. The last three days have been a blur. Food chokes me, so I've barely eaten. Sleep brings nightmares, dark images of blood and a broken body that burn my eyes and make me wake cold and screaming. I've tried to stay awake as much as possible, drinking inhuman amounts of coffee, pilfering stimulants from the infirmary and spending hours working in the labs trying to figure out why we lost control of our systems and how to stop it happening again. The mysterious enemy dialled in twice more after that first, but we managed to get the shield up each time before anyone got hurt. What little sleep I've had has come slumped over my computer. The city and her people tread silently around me, lost in their grief and afraid of my own apparent lack. I've tried to comfort them, tell them it wasn't anyone's fault, that there was nothing anyone could do. Stereotyped phrases offer cold comfort, but it's all I have to offer.
We're holding the memorial out on the eastern pier. It's the only place big enough to hold the entire expedition team at once, as well as most of the Athosians. Jinto approaches me to offer his sympathy. We've always been close, yet I hear myself thanking him with the same cold detachment that has met all the others.
There are so many people here to honour her…even representatives from the Genii and other worlds that have benefited from her diplomatic touch. In an odd way, I'm proud. It's like they all know how important she was, like they all know that we're going to suffer without her. Inside the gateroom a pyramid of golden stars adorns one of the walls. Our 'wall of fallen heroes.' Her star now sits on the very top.
John is speaking, his voice thick with grief and the tears he's trying to fight back.
"Dr Weir had a gift," he says, "for seeing the best in people. She could look into your soul and make you want to be a better person, if only so that you could make her proud." He continues, but my attention now turns to Rodney, standing by the side of the podium looking lost. He always seems so childish when he grieves. Like a little boy who doesn't quite understand what's happening.
Halling and Teyla are standing now, lighting a candle and speaking an ancient prayer. I see Radek standing in the crowd, tears streaming unchecked down his face. He had always been so kind, so considerate of her. I loved him for that. Carson is nearby, his face in his hands, his guilt on his sleeve. I stand looking out at the ocean, an empty void.
Suddenly I realise that the speeches have stopped. They're moving towards the coffin – Oh Lord, the coffin – John and Rodney, Ford, Ronan, Carson and Jinto…they're lifting it up…they're turning, moving slowly towards the edge of the pier. Oh please, don't they realise, don't they know? My mother is in there – what are they doing, she's in there! I open my lips to cry out, but no sound emerges. I'm suffocating, I can't stay here. I back away, my eyes still fixed on the awful procession. I turn and push my way through the crowd, barely noticed by those too lost in the moment. As soon as I'm clear I break into a run, fleeing as though a Wraith ship is racing behind me. Deeper and deeper into the city, running until the walls are no longer familiar. My breath is ragged now, each step a painful nightmare, but I can't stop. Minutes pass, hours, days? An eternity of running to escape the pain that follows behind me like a murderous black bird. Finally my feet will no longer hold me and I fall, hitting the floor with a sharp cry. Around me glass walls glitter, showing a girl brought to her knees; her chest is heaving, her long brown hair is drenched in sweat…but her face remains blank. And I understand. I know. I believe.
My mother is dead.
A scream rips through the air, the harsh guttural sound torn from my raw throat. Silence, and I scream again, sudden fury lifting me to my feet and driving my clenched fist through the mocking reflection. Again and again until there are no walls left, only shattered glass mixed with blood on the floor. I sink to the floor, bizarrely fascinated by the crimson rivers coursing down my arms and through my fingertips. Blood, so much blood. Her broken body in a pool of blood. The tears begin.