STARGATE ATLANTIS: Dead End by Chris Wraight Page A

ceiling.
    Sunlight-traps were embedded far up into the uneven roof of the rocky chamber. Each of them sparkled with a fresh, pure light. The cold gleam complemented the warm glow of the embers in the torches, lending the room a gentle sheen.
    There was a bowl of frigid water and some linen on a low rock shelf nearby. He washed as quickly as possible, and then donned the fur wrappings over his fatigues once more. The hides of the White Buffalo were incredible things; light enough to enable normal movement, but extremely well insulated. Sheppard smiled to himself, thinking how Rodney would spend his time analyzing the properties of the material when they got back to Atlantis. If they got back to Atlantis.
    He slipped his pistol into its holster and pulled the hangings over the entrance aside. McKay was waiting for him in the antechamber beyond, his room built into the opposite wall. A third door led to the corridor outside.
    “So, how d’you reckon we get hold of food here?” he said, scratching his stubbly chin. “I’d kill for a coffee and a Danish. The nice ones. With pecan on them.”
    Sheppard shrugged. “Guess we go and find out,” he said. “Good news is, I reckon we’ll get outside today. There’s sunlight coming down from somewhere — the storm must be over.”
    “Yes, ingenious, aren’t they, those sun-traps?” McKay said. “I’m not sure how they do it. There’s so little glass around. They must’ve placed lenses at the top and bottom of shafts in the rock. They’re clever, these Forgotten, I’ll give them that.”
    There was a polite cough from the corridor outside and Miruva came in, bearing bowls of steaming stew.
    “Forgive me, but when I heard noises I prepared you some breakfast,” she said. “I hope it will be pleasing.”
    McKay wrinkled his nose at the thick gravy. “Hey, I don’t suppose you’d have something a bit less… meaty? I mean, it’s a little early for me, and to be honest my digestion needs — ”
    He was cut off by Sheppard reaching across to take the two bowls. “That’ll be perfect,” he said, pointedly. “Thanks.”
    Miruva smiled, bowed, and left the room.
    Sheppard glared at McKay. “For God’s sake, Rodney, we’ve got to get along with these people. It’s not like we’re in Trump Tower here, and they’ve given us a lot.”
    McKay took one of the bowls and sniffed it suspiciously. “Alright,” he said. “But if I don’t get something green soon, there’ll be consequences. And you won’t like them any more than I will.”
    There was the sound of footsteps outside, and Ronon and Teyla entered. The Runner had to duck some distance under the low entrance to the antechamber. It looked like he was getting used to doing it.
    “Morning,” said Sheppard. “How’s the accommodation?”
    “Same as this,” said Ronon, looking grumpier than normal. “I like these people, but they’re too short.”
    Sheppard took a mouthful of stew, and with some difficulty swallowed it down. Much as he hated to admit it, Rodney had a point about buffalo meat so early in the day.
    “OK, we’ve gotta start planning our next move,” he said, still chewing. “Priority one: salvaging what we can from the Jumper and working out how we get home.”
    “Agreed,” Rodney said. “We need to get the Jumper systems operational as soon as possible, and then I need to take a look at that gate. I don’t know what we did to it, but it won’t be pretty.”
    “There is little Ronon and I can do to help you with that,” said Teyla. “We need to find out more about these Forgotten. I sense that there is much about this people that is still hidden. If the Ancestors have achieved something here, then we will need to use their expertise to locate it.”
    “That’s your area,” agreed Sheppard. “Any ideas?”
    “Nothing has come to light. But the girl Miruva is perceptive and she has undertaken to show me more of these dwellings. I will spend today with her, discovering as