Dawn awoke and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, grimacing slightly. It took her a moment to recognize her surroundings and come back to an awareness of her self. She was Dawn Summers, that much was almost always the same; and even when it wasn't, she was still Buffy's sister. Or magical clone. Or whatever; once she had been Buffy and Angel's magical daughter. That had been weird. Her eyes teared up, and she shuddered, reminding herself that it was just a dream. Glory hadn't won. Hadn't killed Giles. Dawn had never crossed dimensions, and she certainly hadn't joined the marines. Reality settled in around her, and immediately a sense of loss, and of diminishment threatened to overwhelm her senses. The memories of that other life faded into the background, and she was herself again.

Illyria was there, watching over her in the guise of Winifred Burkle. "Welcome back, Dawnie," the Old One said pleasantly, Fred's Texan twang buzzing in her voice.

Dawn had never met Fred in this life, but she'd experienced some dream-lives where the two of them had been friends, and it annoyed her to see Illyria pretending to be her. But then, she'd never liked it when her friends had pretended to be something they weren't. "Lyri..." Illyria's eyes narrowed slightly at the diminutive, but Dawn kept talking. "What's with the Fred imitation? You don't have to pretend to be her in here. I know better."

Fred's face lost all traces of warmth as she considered the newly-awakened young woman before her. "I wear this face because I wish it," she said coldly.

Wow. Kind of touchy on the subject. When did this start? Dawn raised an eyebrow, a curious expression on her face.

"What did you see?" Illyria asked.

Dawn knew she was only asking to get away from the subject of her 'Burkle Persona,' but it worked. Damn her eyes, but it worked. Like Illyria a moment before, Dawn didn't want to talk about it. "I don't remember," she said stubbornly.

-----------------------

Epigoni: Atlantis
by P.H. Wise
An Angel crossover fanfic

Chapter 2 – To Make a House a Home

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel. I don't own Stargate. Please don't sue me. This story contains spoilers for the final episode of Angel.

Note: This story is the sequel to Epigoni. If you haven't read that story, you will not have seen the character growth that got Illyria to the place she begins at in this story, and the story will probably not make much sense besides. Epigoni: Atlantis contains spoilers for Buffy, Angel, Stargate SG-1, Stargate Atlantis, and for Epigoni.

-------------------------

Well, this was different. Boring, but different. Dawn permitted herself a small grimace as she went about the task of cataloguing the written records that had been salvaged from Earth's ruin. Yesterday they'd had her translating Ancient. Today, they had her doing this. Resentment rose up in her belly. Why should she do any of this? She wasn't being paid. There wasn't any money to pay her, and even if there had been, it wouldn't have been worth anything out here.

She was in a large storage area, brightly lit but with no obvious light sources beyond the glowing wall panels that the ancients appeared to be so very fond of. When she'd first arrived, Dawn had taken a moment to try to figure out where all the extra light was coming from, but had quickly given up. The storage area was currently full to the brim with boxes and boxes and boxes full of books, magazines, ancient artifacts, and more modern 'artifacts.' All she had to worry about was the books; the artifacts and magazines were the job of the other workers in the area, each of whom was busily cataloguing away; the low buzz of their occasional conversation curled around her like smoke.

She turned the page of the book she held, and with the turning, her resentment evaporated like a thin layer of fog before the mid-day sun. 'The Filostrato of Giovanni Boccaccio,' the book's title proclaimed in bold black lettering. She placed it carelessly in the 'literature' stack, and marked down the appropriate information on the computer terminal that had been provided for her. It was funny. They now had more information on the history of Atlantis and of the Ancients than they had of Earth and humanity; the greatest wealth of literature and historical records that they still had was the contents of Daniel Jackson's office at the SGC, and that barely scratched the surface of the history of the people of Earth. What kind of culture would grow out of this? She shook the thoughts from her mind. It was no good thinking about things she couldn't change. No good thinking about... no. She wouldn't allow her thoughts to go in that direction.

As she continued with her task, Dawn felt a peculiar sense of doubling, as if one will were directing two bodies in the selfsame task. It faded quickly, but she shuddered nonetheless. That had been happening more often as of late, and she didn't much like it. Maybe she'd ask Illyria about it at some point. She probably wouldn't get a straight answer from the Old One, but it'd make her feel better to ask, at least.

Today was the day she would be tested for the Ancient Gene, she knew. Illyria, too. Doctor Beckett was giving everyone recovered from Earth a complete physical, and that was a part of it. Idly, she wondered how the Old One planned to get through that without arousing suspicion.

Days had passed since the Town Meeting, and the whole population of Atlantis was in an uproar over the decisions that they all knew were to be made by the Congress that they had elected. Everyone had an opinion on what kind of government they should create. Well, almost everyone; the ones that still thought of this whole experience as some kind of waking nightmare (and there was no small number of these) simply took it as one more nail in the coffin of everything that was safe and familiar. Dawn tried not to think about that much. The building of a new nation seemed like far too big a deal for someone as small as herself to be involved in. She just did the work she was assigned, and every day tried to regain as much normalcy as she could. She was almost nineteen now. She could handle this. She could handle being on her own.

She could.

She couldn't.

Sorrow welled up in her uncontrollably as her thoughts finally came to rest on the one thing she'd been trying so hard to distract herself from thinking about.

Buffy.

Buffy was gone. There had been such a look of joy on her face when she'd vanished with all the others... nearly overcome, Dawn dropped the book she was holding to the floor and ran. Faster and faster, she ran, until she was running with all her might, and sorrow followed, nipping at her heels like an angry dog. She ran through the corridors of Atlantis, knocking a startled Major Sheppard to the ground as she went, running on and on until finally there was nowhere else to run; she'd reached the edge of the north pier, and all that lay before her beyond the guardrail was a vast expanse of ocean.

She almost thought she could smell Buffy's perfume on the salty ocean air. That didn't help matters. Giles. Xander. Willow. Buffy. Tara. Mom. Buffy had said she'd never abandon her. Where was she now? Huh? "Where are you now?" she whispered, and her voice was lost to the ocean's roar. Her emotions welled up inside her, taking form in her lungs and moving up until she could bear it no longer, slammed her fists into the guardrail and screamed, "BUFFY!"

Like a puppet whose strings have been cut, Dawn fell to her knees; she fell to her knees and wept, and the vast ocean heeded her not at all.

-----------------

Elizabeth Weir pinched the bridge of her nose. This was getting nowhere fast. The first Lantean Congress had been in session for the last six hours, and the only progress that they'd made thus far was a very general statement of purpose. Which of course meant that absolutely nothing had been accomplished, as each of them had known the purpose of this body when they'd accepted their nominations to it three days previous.

She hadn't even gotten them to agree that the new government should be a democracy. She'd tried, and the members of her original expedition team that were members of the Congress were in favor of it, for the most part - except for Kavanagh. He was the root of the problem, she was sure. When he'd been nominated (and Elizabeth still wondered why on Earth anyone had thought him fit to decide policy), she'd known it would be trouble, but she'd never expected this. Immediately after her impassioned speech on the need for a new democracy, the need for the survivors of Earth and their Athosian allies to govern themselves as a free people, Kavanagh started his opposition.

"With all due respect to Doctor Weir," he said, "That's an horrible idea. These people just experienced the end of the world. They survived, for lack of a better term, an Apocalypse. They are nowhere near recovered from the trauma of that experience, and are light years away from being able to govern themselves responsibly." Kavanagh's eyes were bright as he spoke, and she saw several nodding in agreement with him. "What's more, the survivors of Earth have been thrust into mortal danger by coming here. Thanks in no small part to the gross incompetence of the current leadership of Atlantis, the Wraith were allowed to become a threat that now threatens our very survival as a species."

Doctor Weir repressed the urge to interrupt him. She would have her chance for rebuttal.

"We need a strong leader to guide us through this time," Kavanagh went on, "Someone who understands the situation and is competent enough to correct the grave, grave mistakes made by those currently in command of this city." He glanced at Doctor Weir. "Democracy can come later, when we're ready for it. Right now, we need..."

"A despot?" Doctor Zelenka asked, his voice grave.

If looks could kill, Kavanagh's glare would have flayed the Czech doctor alive. He did not allow his anger to carry into his voice, however. "A governor with both the means and the will to preserve the human race from extinction," he finished.

A faint murmur went through the group as Kavanagh returned to his seat, and Weir went up to the podium to speak.

"The decisions and motivations of myself and Major Sheppard in regards to the leadership of the Atlantis expedition are at this point a matter of public record, and I urge you each to take the time to read the mission reports, which document both our decisions and the reasoning behind them. I stand by my record, and by my decisions, and I will not be made to defend them. With that out of the way, I wish to address Representative Kavanagh's suggestion of an all-powerful executive ruler." Her gaze traveled across the delegates, and her words hung heavily in the air. "Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety. Those words were spoken by Benjamin Franklin, one of the founding fathers of the nation that many of us here came from, and it is no less true today than it was in his time. A single executive ruler in whose hands rest all the power of the state may seem like an ideal solution in the short term, and it would certainly make our lives easier – for a while - but once given power, despots have a way of remaining in power. If our history has taught us anything, it is this."

"Again, with all due respect," Kavanagh began, and it was clear by his tone that he held none of that respect for Weir, "I don't think you're seeing the big picture. But that's always been your problem, hasn't it? You've never been clear-sighted enough to rise above your emotional response, Doctor Weir. You lead with your heart. We need to lead with our heads, if we're to survive. There are a little more than four thousand of us left here, and lacking the ability to contact Earth's alpha site to find out if the people there are even still alive, we may well be the last remnants of Earth's civilization in the universe. We are going to have to make some hard decisions in the coming months, and if we don't make the right ones, our species, our culture, and our way of life may well become extinct. Four thousand. That's it. When there are more of us, we can risk being ruled by the mob. But now, now we need strength and solidarity, and the unity that can only come from a single ruler."

All eyes returned to Weir as she began her rebuttal. "You're right, Kavanagh." For a moment, she wondered what his first name was, but quickly dismissed the thought as unimportant. "There are only a little more than four thousand of us left. But even if we should fail, the human race will continue. Entire galaxies were seeded with human life by the Ancients. Their legacy will continue, even if we do not. We may well be the last remnant of Earth's civilization, but we are not alone." She glanced at Teyla as she said this, and there were a few nods from the assembly. "Our responsibility is far greater than mere survival. We are engaged in the lofty enterprise of nation-building. We have a duty to create the world we would want to live in, because the world we create here, in this room, is the world we will be giving to our children, and to our grandchildren. We cannot afford to be short-sighted in this. Freedom is the birthright of the human race, and I for one will not give that up for convenience sake. Will you?" The question was not addressed at Kavanagh, but at the assembly, and its effect was palpable. "I'm not saying it will be easy; but it will be worth it. Eternal vigilance may be the price of freedom, but it is a price worth paying, because the alternative is nothing less than tyranny."

And that was it. The debate was ended for the day. About thirty of the fifty representatives applauded, and Weir smiled. She glanced at the clock on the wall. "Now, if there is nothing further to discuss, and as we have already been in session for over six hours now, I propose that we recess for the day. Is there a second?"

"Seconded," Doctor McKay called, looking impatient. Weir sympathized with him. Although all of the members of this Congress understood the importance of what was going on, McKay had never been a patient man, and he was clearly eager to get back to his research.

"All in favor?" Weir asked.

The delegates punched their responses into the terminals before them, and the main screen behind the podium lit up with the results: the resolution had been passed, and the congress would go into recess for the day. The murmur of conversation began almost immediately.

Doctor Beckett rose to his feet and began to collect his things. He had a number of physicals to give today, and this meeting had cut significantly into his available time. While he had a fully trained medical staff to assist with such matters, with all the new arrivals needing to be checked out, they were overworked, and needed every trained team member as often as they could have them.

"Carson," Elizabeth called, walking down from the podium.

Beckett looked up. "Aye?" he asked.

"I checked your work schedule for the day, and noticed that you'll be examining Winifred Burkle today," she said

Beckett nodded.

"I wonder if you might stay a moment. I have something I need to discuss with you in regard to Doctor Burkle."

The room was emptying rapidly, and within a few minutes, they were alone. As the last person left the room, Weir spoke. "Carson, this is very important. I need you to keep the results of Doctor Burkle's physical strictly confidential."

"A patient's medical history is already confidential, Elizabeth."

"I know, but this one... this one is a little odd. You may have heard rumors about her, how she came through the Stargate in a leather catsuit and body-paint..."

Beckett smiled at that. "Aye. You'd never figure a delicate lass like herself for that sort of thing, but it's usually the quiet ones who surprise you."

Weir schooled her expression carefully to avoid laughing at that. "She's more surprising than most. She was previously examined by Doctor Warner at the SGC. Only Rodney and I have known about this before now." She produced a small folder and handed it to Beckett. "This is important, Carson. No one can know about this. Not yet. We're not ready. I know what you're thinking, but read the report, and if you still don't agree with me, you can do whatever you want with the information."

He nodded. "I'll read it. I don't like the sound of this, but I'll read it."

"That's all I ask," she replied, and turned to leave.

Carson opened the folder and began reading the contents. After a few minutes, his eyes widened, and he nearly dropped the papers in shock.

-----------------------

"Good afternoon, Doctor Burkle," Carson said nervously. Illyria had just arrived for her physical, with a sullen Dawn in tow. The medlab was bustling with patients and medical personnel, but when Illyria and Dawn had arrived, they were immediately directed into a side room where the good Doctor stood waiting for them. Human and Ancient technology filled the little room on either side of a small bed, and Illyria took an immediate dislike to it.

"Miss Summers, if you'll just wait outside, we can begin..."

Illyria cut him off. "Dawn Summers will remain here for the duration," she said, and her tone brooked no disagreement.

Beckett paled a bit at that, and barely restrained himself from flinching at the commanding tone of the possibly hostile alien who could squash him like a bug if she so chose.

Illyria grimaced. "You have been told. It is obvious. The reek of your fear is oppressive." She glanced at Dawn for a moment, then redirected her gaze to Carson. "I will not harm you this day, Doctor Beckett. You may begin your ministrations."

Doctor Beckett nodded, taking a deep, calming breath. "Right then, a bald head is soon shaved."

The physical went quickly enough, and Illyria did her best to suppress the feeling of suffocation that being in such a tiny side-room brought to her. Soon, Doctor Beckett was breathing a sigh of relief as he completed his final test.

He blinked, examined the Ancient medical device, and ran the test again, scanning Illyria a second time.

The scanner showed the same result as before. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

"What?" Dawn asked, trying to get a glimpse of what the device showed.

Carson shook his head. "I must be reading this wrong."

----------------------

"The Ancient gene?" Weir asked, thoroughly surprised. This was one discovery that she had never expected in a million years.

"Aye. Whatever her body's become, it still possesses the Ancient Gene."

"But she doesn't have any internal organs, Carson. Her body is hollow. How can she have the Ancient Gene?"

Carson smiled faintly. "It's a matter of genetics, Elizabeth, not the condition of the body."

"Were you at least able to determine what's keeping her alive?"

Carson shook his head. "I asked Doctor McKay to have a look at the lab results, though. He might have more of an answer for you."

They were in Weir's office, with Elizabeth seated at her desk, and both Carson and Rodney seated across from her. Weir and Beckett looked to McKay.

"Well, the equipment here is considerably better than what we had available on Earth. As near as I can figure, she's actually being sustained by something very similar to the energy being we encountered in the ancient laboratory when we first arrived here last year. An order of magnitude stronger, but similar nonetheless."

"Her body is... inhabited by this creature?" Weir asked. "Is Doctor Burkle still alive?"

"I don't know if you can call that living," Carson interjected. "With most of her internal organs missing, there's no way her body could survive on its own. Like as not, if it were possible to separate 'Illyria' from Doctor Burkle, she'd die right quick, and it'd be bloody painful."

Weir nodded, and then looked to McKay. "Rodney?" she asked leadingly.

Doctor McKay shrugged. "The energy pattern does show some similarity to the bio-electrical energy generated by a human body, but without some means of comparison..."

"Well, is there any way to separate this energy being from her body?"

"No, I'd say definitely not. It's not just inhabiting her; the scans show that it's actually an integral part of her physiology. Even if we could separate the energy being from the human host, it would," he nodded to Carson, "almost certainly result in Doctor Burkle's death."

Weir nodded. "And the other one? Dawn Summers?"

Carson shook his head. "Another mystery. We still don't know why or how her body rejected the gene therapy, but it was bloody amazing to see it happen."

"Oh?"

"She glowed green."

"She what?"

"That's what I said. You should have seen it, Elizabeth! For about a minute, nothing, and then her whole body lit up with green light. When the light faded, all traces of the gene-therapy retrovirus had vanished from her body."

"How is that possible?" Weir asked.

"As far as I know, it's not," Beckett said, "But we scanned her with the same sensors we used on Miss Burkle, and detected the same kind of energy pattern in her."

"Do you think she's from the same species as Illyria?"

"It's possible. There are some distinct differences in the patterns they emanate, but that could just be their equivalent of ethnicity. But if they're members of the same species, I'd like to know what species that is, and how two of them came to Earth undetected."

McKay and Weir exchanged glances, but said nothing.

"I want you two to make a full report," Weir said after a moment, "And have it on my desk before morning."

McKay and Beckett nodded, and then departed, leaving Doctor Weir alone with her thoughts. A few minutes later, she spoke into her communicator. "Please have Winifred Burkle brought to my office," she said.

Fateful words.

-----------------------

Illyria strode imperiously into Doctor Weir's office some ten minutes later, annoyed at the temerity of this woman in daring to summon her, and more so at her own willingness to be summoned. Once, she would have flayed Weir alive for her presumption. But not now. The urge faded even as it occurred to her. Yes, Illyria was in a Bad Mood. Once, this would have been lethal. Now, it was simply dangerous.

Weir sat on the other side of her desk, and the sounds of the daily activity in the Atlantis control room floated in through the open door.

"Thank you for coming, Illyria," Weir said as the Old One came to a halt in front of the desk.

Illyria said nothing. How things had changed. How the mighty had fallen. Summoned, and she came like a dog obeying her master's command. She nearly choked on her own pride. It didn't help that Weir's office was a tiny enclosed space.

"I asked you here for two reasons. The first is because of the results of your and Dawn's tests."

"You wish to use me because of this... genetic compatibility," Illyria said.

"Yes," Weir replied. "We need all the people we can get who have the Ancient Gene. People born with it are invariably better at using the technology than the people who are given the gene therapy, and the gene-therapy only works for one out of every two people."

"We will not be your tools, Doctor Weir, nor are we your subjects."

"I realize that. But surely an alliance between us would be beneficial to us all."

Illyria considered that idea. She knew that Weir was treading carefully, trying to avoid bruising her ego. Even that thought rankled, yet another reminder of everything she had lost. 'And everything I have gained,' another part of her countered. Startled by that bolt out of the blue, she very nearly let her confusion show on her face. Nearly. Although she might not be willing to admit it, for all the diminishment of her divinity it had brought, she did prefer this existence to her life before inhabiting this shell... though she was not yet sure whether she preferred her life as Winifred Burkle to her current one. That was another thought that she would never, ever speak aloud. "An alliance. What can you offer one such as me, Elizabeth Weir?"

"You tell me," Weir countered, "You're the one who has lent me aid twice now, and unlooked for. You obviously want something from me." Weir steepled her hands in front of her face. "I am also concerned to learn that Dawn Summers is, as far as Rodney and Carson can tell, another of your species."

"And you wish to know if she will place your people in danger?"

"Will she?"

Illyria laughed; it was a cruel sound. "Yes, though not by choice. She would never intentionally put you in danger, but when the avalanche has already begun, it is too late for the pebbles to vote."

Weir nodded thoughtfully. A silence hung between them for a long moment before she spoke again. "Once, back on Earth, you said that you might explain how you came to be in that body. Will you explain it now?"

Illyria considered the request. "I will," she said at last, "But there is a price."

Weir nodded.

So she told her.

Told her everything.

FLASH

Fred looked into his eyes, and her body quivered uncontrollably. "I'm not scared. I'm not scared. I'm not scared," she insisted, her frightened tone belying her words. After a few moments, her grip softened, and she sank into his arms.

Weakly, she spoke. "Please, Wesley, why can't I stay?"

Her body went still in Wesley's arms.

FLASH

She told Weir of the infection. Of the search for a cure. Of the long sleep. Of the sudden awakening. Of her death, and of her rebirth, and what came after. Of Wesley's death, and of the events leading up to her arrival at Stargate Command, it seemed like so very long ago now.

Weir's jaw dropped open in shock. She obviously had no idea how to respond to such a tale. She recovered quickly, however. "So Doctor Burkle is dead?" she asked in a near whisper.

"Nothin' of the host survives?" Illyria asked in Fred's voice. She shook her head. "It ain't that simple. Never is, is it?" The Texan accent drained from her voice as she continued. "When I consumed Fred Burkle, I took all that she was into myself. Winifred Burkle is in me, as I am in her. There is now no distinction between us."

"And Dawn Summers? Did she consume her host as well?"

"No. The circumstances of her arrival in a human body were different. Easier, and harder. She is her host, and her host is her. She was made that way from the beginning. There was never a creature called Dawn Summers who was not already as she is now." The Texan twang was now completely absent from Illyria's voice, as was all trace of human emotion. Her brown eyes froze over into her natural, unnatural blue. "What is your second reason for asking me here, Doctor Weir?"

"To ask a question: why are you helping me?"

Illyria tilted her head to the side. "Power," she replied.

"Power?"

"You have it. Others want it. They surround you like carrion-birds, waiting eagerly for you to falter so they might strip the meat from your bones. They want you to fail so they can take the power for themselves."

"And what do you want?" Weir asked.

"To live free, and never die," Illyria replied.

"Once you told me you wanted to conquer all."

"Yes."

"Do you no longer want that?"

Illyria didn't answer.

"I am going to be perfectly honest with you, Illyria. I don't trust you. I don't trust your motives, and I don't trust your means. But I do know that you have never lied to me, and I need that honesty right now."

The Old One considered this statement, and said nothing.

"I've been thinking a lot about the future lately. What sort of society we're going to create here. What sort of legacy we're going to leave for our children and grandchildren. But I know that the future is not all we have to concern ourselves with: if we do not learn from the mistakes of our past, we are condemned to repeat them. You were there when Earth was destroyed, weren't you? In the chamber with SG-1?"

Illyria nodded.

"Is it really over? Does it really stop with the destruction of Earth?"

Illyria shook her head. "No. The creature responsible for what your people have come to call 'The Second Fall' will not be content with its victory on Earth. The demons will come for humanity, and you must be ready for them, or you will surely become extinct."

Weir nodded. "... I suspected as much," she said.

"Then you are wiser than I have given you credit for," Illyria replied. Halfway through her sentence, there was a bright flash, accompanied by the distinctive sound of an Asgard transporter beam; Illyria did not trail off, but completed her sentence, and then turned to look at the Asgard who had just appeared in the room.

Weir's eyes widened, and she stared at the Asgard for a moment, unused to the comings and goings of Earth's greatest allies.

The Asgard spoke. "I am Thor, Supreme Commander of the Asgard fleet," he said.

-----------------

Elizabeth's diplomatic training kicked in almost automatically at that. "Supreme Commander Thor," she said, "It is an honour to meet you. An unexpected honour, but an honour all the same."

Illyria looked on speculatively.

"And you as well, Doctor Weir," Thor replied. It did not surprise Weir that Thor knew her name, though they had never previously met. "The Asgard deeply regret that we were unable to assist you during the destruction of your world, but we were at a crucial juncture in our war with the Replicators, and even one ship could have been the difference between survival and certain destruction. We offer our sympathy to you and your people. The Asgard, too, know the pain of losing our Homeworld."

Weir nodded. "Thank you, Supreme Commander. It is good to know that we are not alone in this." She took a breath. "You said that the war with the Replicators was at a crucial juncture. I take it this is no longer the case? How is the war going now?"

Thor did as close to an approximation of a smile as his physiology could allow. "We are winning."

That lifted Weir's spirits. If the Asgard won their long war with the Replicators, they would have an easy solution for nearly every problem currently faced by the citizens of Atlantis. "That's wonderful news!" She barely restrained herself from asking, 'so how much longer will you be?' General O'Neill wouldn't have, but she did. "Do you have a timetable for final victory?" Smooth, Elizabeth. Smooth. Maybe it would have been better to channel O'Neill.

Thor nodded. "We do. Using all of the resources currently at our disposal, we estimate that we will have achieved a final victory in four hundred and twenty seven of your years."

Disappointment was a bitter drink, though it was still good news that humanity's greatest ally was no longer on the verge of defeat. "Although we do not have the resources we once had," Elizabeth began, "If there's anything we can do to assist..."

Thor cut her off. "Perhaps, in the future, but now it is you who needs our assistance. Unfortunately, my visit is not simply a friendly one. I have come to warn you, and to assist you as best I can. As we speak, the Wraith of this galaxy are mobilizing for a full scale assault on Atlantis."

Elizabeth felt as though the ground had just fallen out from beneath her. "How much time do we have?"

"If the Wraith armada maintains its current course and speed, it will arrive in orbit of Atlantis in thirty days, six hours, twenty four minutes, and fifty one seconds."

She nodded slowly. "... Then we have a lot of work to do."

END CHAPTER 2

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