DISCLAIMER – Stargate: Atlantis is the intellectual property of MGM/UA and associates. I am not receiving any profit from the writing of this story. I am writing this story solely for fun and personal enjoyment. No copyright infringement is intended.

Shadow, Dr. Kadan Morin, Zora Kovac and Dr. Itzhak Perlman are my original characters. If you want to use them, all you have to do is ask me. I will most likely say yes.

RATING – This story is rated T

ARCHIVE – If you want to archive this, please feel free to do so. Let me know where it's going, though. Thanks!

A/N – Once again I just want to send out a huge THANK YOU to each and every one of you who replied to the last chapter. As always, I love and appreciate each reply I get. You all make my day with your comments!

Here is Chapter 27 for you. My apologies for the length of time between updates, but for some reason this chapter was particularly hard to write. The chapter has gone through several iterations and looks nothing like it did in its first draft. I hope it works and I hope you all like it. Let me know what you think.

Any blocks of text that are written in present tense and italicized are flashback scenes.

I have no beta. Mistakes, if you find them, can be attributed to me.


The Song Of Silent Rivers

27. Legacy

All his life, Radek had dreamed of flying. He'd always been fascinated watching birds in flight, and there had been moments in his childhood when he'd wished he could soar into the sky after them. As a boy, he had constructed kites and model planes. Later, he had studied the mechanics of flight, and had helped to build real aircraft. Now, part of his job was to work on ships capable of travelling through space. If his Earthbound colleagues and friends knew what he was doing, they would probably have said he had experienced more and achieved more than anyone could ever have expected; nevertheless, even in the middle of the great adventure that was the Pegasus galaxy, Radek never stopped dreaming about flying.

He'd made the Atlantis puddlejumpers his own personal project during the two years he'd been in the Pegasus galaxy. By now, he knew the inner workings of little spacecraft better than anyone else in the Lost City. The 'jumper bay was his domain, just as much as it was Colonel Sheppard's or Major Lorne's or any of the other pilots'. He spent a lot of time working on the little ships, sometimes talking to them, and even on occasion singing to them as Colonel Sheppard had once noticed. One of the other scientists had commented teasingly that the 'jumpers were Radek's children. It had been a running joke among the science staff for a while, and Radek had conceded it was an amusing notion, too.

However, with a different perspective on the meaning of parenthood, Radek only saw his colleague's jest as a trite and frivolous statement. The 'jumpers were not children. Though they were artificially intelligent, they were machines. The 'jumpers could not reciprocate any feelings a human might have toward them. They were sophisticated tools, and nothing more.

Still, knowing the 'jumpers as he did, Radek took comfort in the familiarity of them. They were solid and real, logically constant, and they anchored him when he felt as if he was adrift in the storm that was daily life in Atlantis. He did some of his most serious thinking while tucked away inside a puddlejumper. People rarely bothered him in the 'jumper bay, because nearly everyone knew he didn't like to be interrupted while he worked. Sometimes, he came to the 'jumper bay when he wasn't working, just to sit inside one of the small spacecraft and give himself up to whatever happened to be on his mind.

That's what he was doing tonight, sitting in the aft section of Jumper Four, trying to sort out the events of the past couple of days. His thoughts kept returning to Morin and some of the things the old man had said to him. Radek was still curious about why Morin had asked him whether or not the humans in Atlantis were familiar with Ascension. It seemed incongruous, though perhaps it was significant in some way. Morin had also said the information about the treatment he'd developed for Shadow's immune deficiency was in his notes. Radek wondered if the old scientist's notes were stored in the tablet device, or if they were in one of the handwritten books the team had seen in the Ancient lab on Morin's planet. He realized he wouldn't be able to ask Morin about that, now. The old scientist was still alive, but everyone seemed doubtful that he would live until the morning.

It was thanks to Carson Beckett that Morin was alive at all, Radek reflected. He had never fully comprehended what happened in the Infirmary during a crisis until he'd witnessed it first hand. Zora's admonition for him to stay out of the way had been brusque, but in retrospect he was thankful for it, because the previously quiet area had erupted into organized chaos from every side. The last place Radek had wanted to be was in the middle of the human storm. He knew he could never be a medical doctor. Just watching Dr. Beckett, Dr. Biro and the nurses at work made him anxious.

What had felt like a long time after the Infirmary had settled back to something passing for normal, Itzhak had appeared in his usual dishevelled state. Itzhak had seemed distracted, almost agitated for some undisclosed reason. He'd apologized copiously for keeping Radek waiting, though he hadn't elaborated on what had detained him. He'd examined Radek, declared him fit to leave, and sent him on his way with dire warnings about the consequences of not taking better care of himself and even more dire warnings about the consequences of involving himself with a certain Croatian nurse. Radek had only half-listened to most of what Itzhak was saying. His mind had been on things other than Zora Kovac and getting at least seven hours' sleep a night.

His thoughts had mostly been taken up with worry over Shadow and Morin. He supposed there was little coincidence in the fact that contemplating the dying scientist had made him think about his own father as well. He'd been remembering Father a lot, lately. Ever since meeting Morin and Shadow, Radek had begun to see his own family in a new way.

His Uncle Jaromir had once told him life was a journey of learning. Radek had taken the adage literally, believing there was no end to the human capacity for attaining knowledge. Now, he was beginning to see his uncle hadn't only been speaking of learning in the formal sense, but about self-knowledge, about discovering new meaning in things one assumed he already knew.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The sky is soft and grey after a recent rain. The light it casts is like the illumination inside an old church; ethereal and pale, reflecting against a ceiling so high it can only be touched by angels and spirits. Radek cannot keep the ironic smile from his face when this thought crosses his mind. Radislav Zelenka would have failed to appreciate his son's poetic musings at his funeral. He would have, however, doubtless appreciated the solemnity with which the rest of his family and friends are mourning him.

Radek had expected to feel grief today, sorrow or regret. Instead, he simply feels empty, hollow, like a man searching for satisfaction he cannot find. Perhaps he'd exorcised all his stored emotion that morning in the hospital when he'd cried like a child at hearing Father finally say he was proud of him, that he loved him. Perhaps he had accepted the inevitability of his father's death that day as well. He wonders if this explanation even makes sense.

Beside Radek, his mother cries quietly as the priest intones some ritual prayer. On Radek's other side, his sister Milena's face is hidden against her husband's shoulder, turned away from Father's grave. Uncle Jaromir is standing at attention like a soldier. His expression is impassive, but his eyes say a thousand things his face does not. Radek curls his fingers around his mother's hand. She clings tightly, and he hopes he can give her the strength that she needs while he is here..

They have discussed his going to America. Radek had assured her that he would stay with her, if that was what she wanted. Mother had said no. He must go to America, because that's what he wants. His life stretches ahead of him with untold promise, while hers is already more than half spent. Perhaps, she had said, she might visit America one day. Radek had smiled at that. He knows she will never leave Prague.

Radek is leaving for America in three days. He can remember a time in his life when three days would have felt like a veritable eternity. Now it seems hardly enough time to say his farewells and accomplish everything he needs to do before going away.

He looks at the assembled mourners. Many of them are Father's friends and co-workers, men Radek only knows as Mr. Prochazka or Mr. Novak or any of a handful of other surnames. He sees Tatiana and Alexander's parents standing near the middle of the group. Tatiana is with them, and she smiles encouragingly at Radek when he catches her eye. Radek knows he'll miss quiet little Tatiana when he goes away. She and her twin brother Alexander have been Radek's friends since all of them were very small children.

At the far edge of the crowd, Radek spots someone he had not expected to see here today. Jirina Dvorak's smile is of an entirely different quality than Tatiana's. Looking at her, Radek wonders why she is here. She ornaments the arm of her fiancé and looks pretty, and doesn't appear to be mourning anything or anyone. He chides himself for the thought the moment it crosses his mind. He has no cause to be uncharitable, for he really doesn't know what Jirina might be thinking. After all, Radek probably doesn't look like he's in mourning, either.

It is only jealousy that makes him feel unkind towards Jirina, he concludes. His foolish heart still loves her, despite the truth he can plainly see for himself. Jirina's life does not include him any more in the way it once did. She has found a brave soldier to marry. She isn't interested in a shy engineer who dreams of flying and exploring America. Radek tells himself he should be happy for her, but can't bring himself to feel anything close to happiness.

Maybe some day he'll be able to forget. Time is supposed to be the great healer, so perhaps his pain will disappear as time and distance grow between himself and the source of his heartache. Perhaps all his inner hurts will fade that way and he will no longer awaken in the night from bad dreams.

Radek passes the rest of the service in deciding how he will spend the next three days. He knows he should be paying attention to what the priest is saying, but he can't. The priest is a stranger and cannot possibly know anything about the man whose body he is committing to the earth today. Any one of the men gathered near the grave would say more meaningful things about Radislav Zelenka than this dreary little priest is doing. They could have said he did not believe in God. He wouldn't have wanted some falsely deferential clergyman to intone a tedious liturgy over him.

Radek imagines his father would have preferred to have his ashes scattered in the Vitava while his friends stood by the riverbank and saluted him. Radek had heard Father talking about that once, and he'd wondered at the time if the older man had meant it. In retrospect, Radek thinks saying farewell to his father while scattering his ashes over the river might have been a more fitting tribute than standing in a cemetery in the rain.

In the evening, after the funeral, people come to the house to offer their condolences. Well-meaning neighbours show up with more food than anyone possibly wants or needs. Radek has never understood this particular habit of bringing sweets and soup and other things to the family of someone who has died. There are a lot of customs surrounding death he does not understand.

With the kitchen full of visitors, Radek does not want to be there. No one notices him leaving the house, or if they do notice, nobody comments on it. Radek goes to the back yard. He's surprised when he discovers someone else is already out here. Uncle Jaromir is leaning against the big tree, smoking and staring into the sky.

"There are no stars tonight," Uncle Jaromir says.

Radek crosses the yard and stands beside his uncle. He tips his head back and gazes into the cloudy darkness. "Just because we can't see them, it doesn't mean they aren't there," he says.

"I suppose you could say that about a lot of things. People, too," Uncle Jaromir says. He draws deeply on his cigarette and then exhales a stream of bluish smoke into the mist. "Want to go for a walk, Radek?"

"Where?"

"I can't see your father here. I thought we might find him by the river."

"With the river spirits?" Radek says.

Uncle Jaromir smiles. "Where else would you expect him to be? The river was something he loved. The water and the stars. When we were boys, he talked about being a sailor. He wanted to see the ocean."

"I never knew that."

"There are a lot of things you don't know."

"I…I feel as though I never really knew him at all. I loved him, but I never knew him. How do you think that's possible?"

"He was your father."

"I wish I'd been able to know him better."

"Now isn't the time for regrets," Uncle Jaromir says. He drops the remains of his cigarette and crushes it into the wet earth. He steps away from the tree. Putting an arm around Radek's shoulders, he says, "Let's walk by the river, and I'll introduce you to him."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The metallic ring of something knocking against the hull of the 'jumper pulled Radek from his reverie. He hadn't expected someone to come looking for him, though if anyone did, he guessed it would be Elizabeth. She'd found him hiding in 'jumpers before, and she was the only one who dared to disturb him there when he wasn't actually working on the little ships. He found himself mentally preparing for a conversation with her. Lately, he hadn't been able to talk to her without feeling slightly uneasy for one reason or another, and that worried him a little. He shouldn't have to be uncomfortable with her. He'd never felt that way before.

When he opened his eyes and peered around the edge of the open hatch, he was surprised to discover the person standing there was not Elizabeth. He let out the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. He must have looked nearly as surprised as he felt.

Zora Kovac was laughing at him.

"Hello, Radek," she said. "Do you hide here often?"

"How did you know I was here?" Radek asked.

"I'm a secret agent, remember?" Zora said. "Can I come in?"

"Of course."

Zora climbed into the 'jumper and settled herself on the seat beside him. "Actually, Major Lorne said he saw you come in here. He told me where to find you."

"Why were you looking for me?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're okay," Zora said. "When you left the Infirmary this afternoon, you looked kind of…lost."

"Maybe I was."

"How are you now?"

"Everyone asks me this," Radek said. "I don't know the answer."

"It's okay," Zora said. "I guess I wouldn't know the answer either, if I'd experienced everything you've been through lately."

"Thank you for finding me, Zora."

"I'm sorry about Morin," she said.

"Me too," Radek said. "I think it is tragic legacy, to die in the Lost City only days after finding it. I wish things could be different for him."

"You'd like to know him better."

"Yes. I want him to be able to see Shadow, too."

Zora smiled at him, and all he saw was sincerity in her expression. There was no trace of the mischievous person he'd observed in the Infirmary. She reached across the space between them and laid her hand next to his so that the edges of their fingers barely touched. It was a respectful gesture, Radek thought, yet there was something intimate about it as well.

"It's remarkable," Zora said, "how somebody you barely know can become important to you in such a short time."

"Some people make bigger impact than others."

"Yes, some people do. Once you meet a person like that, you know you'll never look at life in quite the same way again."

"Have you ever met someone like that?"

"I've met a few," Zora said. "Once, I had a chance meeting with a man I thought I could fall in love with, if only I'd had the opportunity to get to know him."

"What happened?"

"He was a patient," Zora said.

"He disappeared."

"No, not really. I saw him again, but I think he might've been in love with someone already."

"You never asked?"

"No," Zora said. "How do you ask a question like that to someone you barely know?"

"You are secret agent. I'm sure you could find out."

Zora laughed. "That's going to be a private joke with us, now, isn't it? My being a secret agent, I mean."

"Perhaps."

"You're amazing, you know that? I came here to cheer you up, and you're the one making me laugh," Zora said. She grinned at him. "Maybe I should have asked Dr. Perlman to let me keep you after all."

"You wouldn't like to keep me. As the Americans say, I am high-maintenance."

"I'm a nurse. Maintenance is what I do. Besides, it's been a long time since I had anyone to take care of, outside of the professional context."

Radek looked away from her because suddenly he could feel the heat of a blush creeping across his cheeks. He was startled to realize it wasn't discomfort or embarrassment that was making him blush. He was more than a little flattered to think Zora wanted to take care of him. No one had said anything like that to him before. Not even Elizabeth had ever told him she wanted to take care of him.

When he thought about it, he realized there were a lot of things Elizabeth had never said to him, things that she'd only implied. It occurred to him that he didn't really know how she felt about him at all. He had only assumed that he knew.

With Zora, he suspected it would be different. Zora would have no difficulty expressing herself, no ethical or political inhibitions. In fact, she had already said quite a lot. He would have liked to hear more of what Zora had to say, but something that might have been his conscience began to poke him and remind him this conversation was probably bordering on the inappropriate.

Radek lifted his hand so that it wasn't resting so close to Zora's. He said, "I should go."

"Why?"

"I…have things to do. I can't hide in here all night,"

"No, I suppose you can't," said Zora. She got up. "I suppose I should go, too. I also have things to do."

Neither of them asked what the other planned on doing once they left the 'jumper bay. Radek knew this was a tacit agreement not to scratch below the surface of each other's reasons for ending their conversation before it evolved into something for which neither of them was prepared. Maybe later, they would have another meeting like this. Maybe they would not. Radek had learned a long time ago not to attempt to predict the future, because events in the universe never seemed to transpire the way one expected them to.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Every doctor knew that death was an inevitable element in the human condition. Its inevitability, however, never made it easier to accept. Kadan Morin was dying, and Carson Beckett knew there was nothing anyone could do about it, but the situation still made him feel frustrated, a bit sad and a bit angry, and a dozen other emotions in between. Perhaps it was the untimely nature of Morin's end that upset him, the senselessness of it. Morin wasn't truly old, after all. The Wraith who'd stolen his life force had made a vital man of forty years appear closer to ninety. Who knew what Morin might have accomplished had he been able to live those fifty years instead of losing them to the ruthlessly voracious Wraith?

Carson looked down at his patient and wondered for the hundredth time that day why he and his staff had made such an effort to revive the old scientist. For what purpose had they tried so desperately to prolong Morin's life? Because we're medical professionals. That's what we do, said the voice in his mind. We swore an oath to preserve life.

Carson never ceased to marvel at the human need to preserve life for the sake of life itself. He remembered the lines from the poet, Dylan Thomas, who advised mankind: 'do not go gentle into that good night'. Often, it wasn't the one who was dying that raged against death, but the people around him who fought to stave it off. He didn't ask himself whether or not it made any sense because he didn't want to get into a philosophical argument with himself. Those were never pleasant.

While Carson watched over him, Morin began to wake. The old man's eyelids fluttered and he made a peculiar sound, low in his throat. Carson wondered how lucid Morin would be, if he fully regained consciousness. He'd seen patients at the end of their lives become incredibly clear-minded, even if they hadn't been so in the days or hours before.

Morin made another unintelligible noise. His hand moved aimlessly atop the white sheet. Carson lifted Morin's hand, gently stilling the motion of the old man's fingers. At the contact, Morin finally opened his eyes.

Carson smiled at him. "You're still with us, Dr. Morin," he said.

"Beckett," Morin said. The word was slurred and muffled by the oxygen mask that covered his face, but it was unmistakable.

"That's right."

Morin mumbled something else that Carson couldn't understand, and gripped Carson's fingers weakly. With his free hand, Carson reached out and eased the mask away from Morin's face, just for a moment, to give the old man a chance to be understood.

"Want…see…River Man," Morin whispered.

"Of course," Carson said. "He'll want to see you, too, unless I miss my guess. I'll tell him you need to speak with him."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The Infirmary was quiet when Radek arrived. He didn't know why he'd expected it to be otherwise. Perhaps he was still remembering the commotion of this afternoon. The place certainly hadn't been quiet, then.

Radek and Zora had just left the 'jumper bay, and Radek had been on his way to his lab when Carson had called him and asked him to come to the infirmary. Even before Carson began to explain, Radek had guessed what the physican wanted to tell him. Morin had awakened, and the person the old scientist wanted to see was Radek.

Radek dared not guess why Morin wanted to speak with him. During their last conversation, Morin had inferred there were several important things he'd wanted Radek to know. Radek didn't want to speculate about what was so important to the old scientist that he needed to impart it in the final hours of his life.

Radek allowed Carson to lead him to the curtained-off corner of the Infirmary where Morin rested. Neither of them said anything as they went, and even when Carson held back the curtain to let Radek step through first, they didn't exchange any words. Morin lay almost exactly as Radek had last seen him, on his back with his green eyes wide open and fixed on some point on the white ceiling. The only difference now was that an oxygen mask covered the old scientist's face.

Carson laid a hand on Morin's arm and leaned in close to speak to him. "Dr. Morin," he said. "There's someone here to see you."

Only Morin's eyes moved. When he saw Radek, he smiled weakly beneath the mask. Carson lowered the mask from the scientist's face, and Morin drew in a harsh breath.

"River Man," he said.

Radek smiled at Morin's use of that name for him. Morin had adopted it immediately when Radek had explained this was the name Shadow had given him. It was unusual to hear someone address him aloud that way. He'd gotten used to seeing it written in Ancient.

"I'm here, Dr. Morin," he said.

"Tell you…something," Morin rasped.

"Yes. Dr. Beckett said you wanted to tell me something. I'm listening."

"This is…very important. About Jana."

"What about her?"

"You…" Morin said. "Now…she is…your daughter."

Radek had never seen a more beseeching look on anyone's face than he beheld on Morin's just then. The old man was pleading with him to take on a tremendous responsibility, one which Radek was honestly uncertain he could handle. He wanted to – there was no denying that fact – but the idea was overwhelming, to say the least.

"Dr. Morin, I—"

"Please," the old scientist whispered. His green eyes were bright with tears. "Please…"

"I'll take care of her," Radek said.

"I know you will. Tell…tell her…"

"I will tell her you love her very much."

"Yes. Tell her…I said goodbye."

"I will. I promise."

Morin closed his eyes. Only the slow rhythm of the machine that measured his heartbeat told of the way he held onto the last fragments of his life. Carson stepped up and carefully replaced the oxygen mask over Morin's face. Radek thought the doctor looked very sad. He could hardly expect otherwise, for Carson would imminently lose a patient he was powerless to save. Radek thought he understood a little of Carson's helplessness, because he felt it himself. He wished desperately there was something they could do, even though he knew there was nothing.

Carson met his gaze from across Morin's bed. "You know, you don't have to stay," he said.

"I know," Radek said. "But, I think I will, if it's all right. He shouldn't be alone. I would not want to be alone if I were in his place."

Carson seemed to think about it for a minute, but he finally agreed. "Aye, it's all right. You can sit with him for a little while."

Radek placed his palm over Morin's gaunt hand. He was speaking to Carson but looking at Morin when he said, "Thank you."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The airport is busy and noisy. Radek's mother holds tightly to his arm as they make their way toward International Departures. Radek knows his mother doesn't like crowds. He'd told her she didn't have to come with him this morning, but she had insisted on bringing him to the airport and seeing him off. He understands how difficult it is for her, and he appreciates the effort she is making to be brave in the face of everything she must be feeling. It must be harder for her than it is for him. He is going on an adventure. She is going home to an empty house.

The idea of that almost makes him want to stay. He tries not to think about it as they reach the glass doors that separate the secure area and the departure gates from the rest of the airport. Radek knows that when he steps through those glass doors, he won't be able to look back. If he does, he'll never get to America.

Several metres from the door, Mother stops walking and pulls Radek to a stop beside her. She gently turns him around so they are facing each other, and Radek realizes this is the moment he has to say farewell. He takes a deep breath.

"I can't believe I'm leaving," he says.

Mother shakes her head. "Neither can I."

"Am I doing the right thing?"

"Yes," says Mother. "You are doing the right thing. It's never wrong to pursue a worthwhile ambition. Haven't I always told you that?"

"Yes," Radek says. "You and Uncle Jaromir have both been telling me that all my life."

"I'm glad you were paying attention," Mother says, and smiles fondly at him. "I have something to give you before you go.".

"What is it?"

"Something to help you remember where you come from and where you are going," Mother tells him. She reaches into her voluminous shoulder bag and pulls out something loosely wrapped in brown paper. She says, "Your father wanted you to have this. He made it for you."

She places the object in Radek's hands. When he unwraps it, he recognizes the wooden box carved with birds on its cover. Holding the box, Radek is able to see the image more clearly. His father's delicately etched birds are flying toward the top right corner, toward a single star.

"It's beautiful," Radek says. "I…I saw him making this, before I left for England. I didn't know he was making it for me."

"He loved you so much, Radek," says Mother. "He just never seemed to know how to tell you."

Radek runs his fingertips over the etching on the box, and imagines his father's hands working to chisel the image of each graceful bird in flight, soaring toward the star.

"He knew how, Mother," Radek says quietly. "Sometimes people don't need words to say what they mean."

Mother smiles. "You're a good son."

"Thank you," Radek says. He tucks the carved box into his backpack and steps forward to give his mother a hug. "I love you, Mother. I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you, too," Mother says. "Take care of yourself in America, and don't forget to write to me."

"I won't forget."

Mother kisses his forehead, and whispers, "Be safe."

They say goodbye and they both turn away at the same time. It's difficult not to glance behind him as he walks through the doorway that leads to his future in America, but he manages to keep his eyes facing forward.

In his seat on the plane, he takes the wooden box out of his backpack so he can look at it again. Mother had been right about it being something to remind him of where he had come from. He'll think of Father every time he sees it and he'll remember home.

He traces the outline of the star and feels the smooth, warm wood beneath his fingers. He decides he's going to keep Aunt Kveta's chess set in this box from now on. It seems just about the right size to hold all the pieces, and he can't imagine anything else he'd want to put in a box like this. He lifts the cover to see what it looks like inside.

Resting at the bottom of the box is a small piece of blue paper. Radek lifts it out and unfolds it carefully. The note, in Father's strong, confident penmanship is short, simple. Ten words, yet in them are volumes of meaning that reach to the centre of Radek's heart.

Radek,
May you always fly high and land softly.
—Father

Radek gazes at the note on the blue paper for a long time. He can't decide whether he is filled with happiness or sorrow, and in the end concludes he feels both. If this is what 'bittersweet' means, he thinks he understands it now.

The elderly lady in the seat next to his asks him if he is all right. He tells her, yes, everything is fine, and for the first time in a long time he believes he really will be all right. He has never been more courageous in the face of uncertainty than he is at this very moment. He doesn't know what will happen tomorrow or the next day, but the unknown future no longer seems as daunting. If he leaps from the metaphorical precipice today, he will be held aloft by his father's last words to him.

With perfect clarity he realizes his father's final gift to him is intangible and far greater than the box or even the evocative letter inside.

TBC
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