02 - Reliquary by Martha Wells - (ebook by Undead) Page B

many of the others had been part of the
SGC, but John had first found out about the Stargate program in Antarctica,
about fifteen minutes after nearly crashing a helicopter with General O’Neill as
a passenger while being chased by a stray energy drone accidentally launched
from the Earth Atlantis outpost. His military career had been fraught enough
that he really hadn’t been all that surprised by it. He also thought the SGC
needed a sign outside that said You don’t have to be crazy to work here, but
it helps. Of course, as someone who was for the moment permanently stationed
in Atlantis, he wasn’t in any position to criticize.
    Below, Kavanagh finally extracted himself from the tangle of wrecked
equipment. John pushed to his feet to call down, “Hey, we need to pack it in for
tonight. It’s getting dark up top.”
    Kavanagh stared up at him for a moment, squinting in the dim blue light, his
expression blank. Then he said, “Oh, yes, of course.”
     
    They made camp outside the repository, in a half-ruined structure facing the
plaza where the cloaked puddlejumper rested. It was made out of cut stone
blocks, its roof one big still-stable slab. There was a little crumbling around
where the door had originally been, but otherwise it was mostly intact.
    Corrigan was saying, “I found some indications that part of the city might
have been in place before construction started on the repository, but most of it
is about the same age. We’re not looking at an intrusion into a long-term
occupation site.” He had found writing carved into some of the buildings, some
in Ancient and some that was completely unfamiliar. Teyla hadn’t recognized it,
either. There had also been some decorative carving, mostly worn down to nothing
by the weather, just a few ghostly traces of leaves and vines. Corrigan
continued, “I think the Ancients were building this place with the help of
another group. Whether they were humans or not, whether they were native to this
planet or not, I have no idea.”
    They were sitting around a battery lamp, the bedrolls and other supplies for
the night stacked against the wall, the life sign detector out to make sure
nothing crept up on them in the dark. John would have preferred a campfire, but
it was really too warm for one, and the lamp was an adequate if less comforting
substitute. They could hear the sea from here, the distant roar of the waves
rolling up the rocky beach; after months of living in Atlantis, it was a
deceptively homey sound.
    Listening to Corrigan, Kolesnikova had been drawing patterns in the dirt with
a finger. “I think we are all hoping, after what our friends found down in the
bunker, that the people who did that were not the Ancients.” She looked up,
regarding them all seriously. “Are we not?”
    “Yeah. We are. At least I am.” John looked at Teyla, who just nodded soberly.
    Kavanagh’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I still believe what we found was
part of a hospital. And considering that, there may have been a pressing need
for it, which explains why it was built inside the repository.”
    John had settled across the battery lamp from Rodney, so he had a good view
of the elaborate eye roll, the rubbing the hands over the face, and the
exasperated gesture to whatever deity might be listening to grant something,
possibly patience or strength, to deal with Kavanagh’s boneheaded stupidity. At
least, that was John’s interpretation of what Rodney was doing over there.
    “But with the Stargate, this place is only moments away from Atlantis,” Teyla
said pointedly. “If these people needed medical help, why not take them back
there?”
    “Whether it was built by the Ancients or not, the underground was not a
hospital, or not just a hospital,” Kolesnikova told her. “There are devices
similar to the quarantine system in Atlantis, rooms that must have been
laboratories, also the remains of defensive capabilities, of weapons