Supporting Character, Week 2: If You Wrong Us, Shall We Not Revenge? (3/5)
Title: If You Wrong Us, Shall We Not Revenge?
Author: Jem
Prompt: Artificial Intelligence
Word count: About 30,000
Rating: Probably PG-13, possibly R (for violence)
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]
PART 3
Jeannie felt one moment of dizzying disorientation, and then the world swung right side up, and the fire and smoke were snuffed out as if they had never been. Instead, she was lying down watching the bubble-like pod retract above her, as if everything had only been a nightmare that she was just waking up from, except it wasn't, it had been real, and-and she was awake now, but still, everything felt wrong. Different, somehow. She pulled herself up and stumbled out from the pod, tripping over her own legs in her haste, and staggered upright.
And then she stared around the room, spooked, wondering if she was still in the VE.
Everything was wrong, and she couldn't figure out how. Well, of course something's wrong! she scoffed at herself almost hysterically. You just barely escaped from a virtual environment being taken over by a bunch of guerrilla AIs who are apparently trying to escape by stealing our bodies-
Her thoughts screeched to a halt.
Oh, no way.
She took a step back to look down at herself, almost not wanting to see, and wobbled. Heels. She was wearing heels. And it wasn't haste that had made her trip over herself, it was beautiful nylon-sheathed legs that were completely unfamiliar. She gazed down at her hands, the too-fine bones and long slender fingers. She used to want hands like that, but now that she had them, they wouldn't stop shaking. And when she looked down at herself, she saw a ridiculously model-thin body wrapped in a dark brown business suit . . .
She was in the body of one of the Ava Dixon-style Replicators.
The first ludicrous thought that came to mind was, I swear I will never be self-conscious about my weight again. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Pull yourself together, Jean Willamina Miller! Okay, first things first-where was Bill?
She scanned the room, and felt her stomach drop sickly within her. The rest of the pods were empty.
Oh my God . . . I do not believe it . . .
There were five Replicators loose on Earth, one of them in her body, and Bill . . . Bill was trapped in a virtual environment. One that was being taken over by those same Replicators.
She sat down suddenly on the pod bed, realizing that she was shaking, hard. What was she going to do?
Okay, logical first step-you have to let someone know what's going on. This is the SGC, after all. They'll take it from there.
Right.
And she had to do it fast, not sit here thinking about it.
She jumped up and tried to dash frantically out into the hallway, but immediately tripped over the unfamiliar legs and shoes.
She almost screamed. Just what I need to be dealing with right now!
She kicked off the heels impatiently, and, leaving them on the floor of the lab, made her way out into the corridor, keeping one hand braced against the wall and testing each hurriedly stumbling step, feeling like she wasn't quite sure how everything was put together. And, to be honest, she wasn't. Everything felt queer-breathing, walking, just the way her body rubbed against itself when she moved . . .
It was only then that she remembered this body was made completely of nanites.
Whoa there.
She stopped, one hand pressed to the wall, feeling dizzy. She was in a Replicator body. Everything she was feeling was just nanite interactions that were being interpreted and processed and somehow translated into sensation for her brain. How on earth did that work, she wondered? A human brain in a Replicator body? She'd have to look at the programming more-it was going to bug her no end until she figured it out.
She saw someone turn into the hallway, a short, serious-looking man with glasses who was walking engrossed in the papers he was reading.
“Hey!” she shouted, and speaking felt weird, too, tinny and too high and in the wrong part of her throat, throwing her and momentarily derailing her urgency.
The man she had seen looked up at her, startled, and suspicion immediately clouded his features. She must have looked a sight, staggering along as if drunk with no shoes on. “Are you authorized to be here?” he demanded.
“Yes!” Jeannie cried, exasperated, then amended, “Well, I am, but not-look, there's been a-I need to talk to somebody. It's important,” she finished lamely. It suddenly hit her that she really didn't have a succinct explanation for any of this.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to call security,” he said, activating his radio before she could say anything. “This is Sergeant Harriman, I need a security team in corridor 21 Charlie. Unauthorized entry.”
“No, really, look, that isn't necessary! I was on a visitor's pass today. Guest of Bill Lee.”
“Do you have your guest pass?”
“No, but-”
“And where is Dr. Lee?”
She hesitated. “It's complicated.”
His expression was unreadable. “What's your name?”
“Jean Miller.”
Something in his face changed, and he touched his radio again. “This is Sergeant Harriman. Unauthorized person is claiming to be Dr. McKay's sister.”
“No-well, yes, because I am! And you should tell those security people, if they see me-I mean, her-I mean, if they see someone they think is me, they should arrest her, okay? Oh, and if they see anybody else who looks like this me, too-they should arrest her. Except not this this me. And, and Dr. Lee. He needs to be taken into custody too, or whatever you call it. Right away!”
Sergeant Harriman's expression was completely blank. “We need to arrest Mrs. Miller and Dr. Lee,” he repeated with flat skepticism. “Perhaps you would like to tell me why.”
“Because they're not us!” Jeannie wished she could start over; she was quite sure she was not explaining this at all well. “Look, I really need to talk to the general or-or somebody,” she insisted, her spazzing mind choosing that moment to blank out on the name of the base commander. “Please! It's really important.”
A bit of a frown had crept onto Sergeant Harriman's face. “Wait, are you saying this is some sort of body swap thing?”
“Yes! Exactly!” cried Jeannie desperately.
He made an exasperated noise. “Not another one. Why didn't you say so in the first place?” He touched his radio. “Sergeant Harriman here. We may have a code 64A on our hands, repeat, a possible code 64A, subjects Dr. William Lee and Jean Miller.” He looked back at Jeannie. “I'm afraid you're still going to have to be escorted by security, ma'am, until we can get this all sorted.”
She nodded, dazed at the left turn. “Does this, uh, happen a lot?”
“Enough that we have a code number for it,” he answered grimly.
The security team chose that moment to come pounding around the corner. Jeannie staggered backwards against the wall-the whole situation was so completely overwhelming. This was the second time in a matter of hours that she'd been surrounded by gun barrels, for Pete's sake! She was totally winning the “who's having the worst day” contest here . . .
“What's the situation, Sergeant?” one of the soldiers inquired, not taking his eyes or gun off of Jeannie.
“We may have a 64A, sir. This woman claims to be Jean Miller, who's on our consulting staff.”
“Consulting staff? I am?” asked Jeannie, dazed. That was news to her.
“Yes ma'am, that's the designation your security clearance is under,” answered Sergeant Harriman.
“Oh,” she said, wondering if this man had the records of the entire base typed in his brain.
“Ma'am, you'll have to come with us immediately,” said the soldier who seemed to be in charge.
“Okay. Uh, where? Because I need to tell someone about what's happened-this is really important-”
“Don't worry, ma'am, we'll take you straight to General Landry for a debriefing.”
“Code 64A is very specific,” put in Sergeant Harriman, almost as if he were showing off a trivia fact.
“Right,” said Jeannie, trying to ignore the very large guns that were still being pointed in her direction. “Lead the way, then. And, uh, we should really hurry.”
Bill felt someone dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth. Groggily, he tried to blink his eyes open. They stung and scratched horribly, and his vision blurred with tears. Exhausted, he closed them again.
He didn't really remember much after he had gotten Jeannie out and Ava and her people had dragged him out of the building. He was pretty sure he had at least halfway passed out from the smoke; Ava and whoever she was working with must have gotten him to . . . wherever they were now. His throat and lungs stabbed horribly every time he took a breath, and he really felt too damn tired to do anything.
Except that there were five Replicators who had escaped into the SGC, and the VE was being torn apart by violent sentient AIs, and it was all his fault.
He forced himself to open his eyes against his tearing vision, coughing painfully. He felt the familiar shape of an oxygen mask being pressed against his face and struggled to sit up. Gradually, his vision cleared to reveal the unsmiling face of Ava Dixon.
She removed the oxygen mask as his breathing eased, tossing it to one side. “Bill, I think you owe me an explanation,” she said, with no preamble.
He coughed again, his eyes tearing miserably. At least he could claim it was completely from the smoke. “I-I'm sorry,” he managed wretchedly. “I . . . I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”
She crossed her arms. “So this has been a virtual environment all along.”
He nodded miserably, his tearing eyes leaking out onto his cheeks. He'd lost his glasses somewhere, he realized. It didn't seem important.
“Ever since I left the SGC,” Ava verified coldly.
He didn't know what to say. Apologize again? Make some lame excuse, like that she was too dangerous? Beg her to accept that it hadn't been his idea, that he had wanted her at the SGC, as a scientist? None of it seemed adequate or appropriate.
“So what was it that kept you coming in here? A pity stop?”
“No,” he mumbled raspingly. “I . . . you won't believe me.”
“I wonder why.”
He was silent.
“And now what? A Replicator colony gone wrong? Where did Janus and his crew come from?”
“Me,” answered Bill miserably.
Ava stared at him, her eyes widening incredulously. “What?”
“I wanted . . . I wanted you to have some company, some people, that were real,” he explained. It seemed so everlastingly stupid now. “It seemed like the only thing I could do for you.”
Her eyebrows jumped up a mile at that. “You created Janus to be good company? Bill, I don't think I want to know who you invite over for dinner parties.”
“Well, no one really. I work too much.”
She stared at him. “I was joking,” she said, though she still showed no trace of a smile. She studied him for a moment, and he could feel it coming. “I suppose I should ask why you didn't tell me I was living in a virtual world,” she said, the slightest hint of bitterness creeping into her voice, “but I assume your answer will be security clearance.”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I really wanted to. Believe me. I-that's why, I tried to think, if I could make it a little more real-”
“I get it.” she said, but her voice had gone back to being flat.
“I guess you hate me now, huh,” he got out, though he broke down coughing again at the end of it. The pain in his throat and lungs seemed an appropriate complement his current mood. How had he botched everything so badly? How?
Ava looked him in the eye. “I feel betrayed,” she admitted baldly. “I might get past it. I might not.”
It was no less than Bill had expected, but he still felt his heart sink within him.
Almost immediately upon being hustled to a conference room, Jeannie heard an authoritative voice demanding, “All right, someone tell me what's going on.” She was just registering a two-star general entering the room when someone cried out, “I know her! She's a Replicator!”
The clack of guns chambering sounded through the room like a metallic, deathly round of applause. Jeannie squealed, ducking involuntarily. “No you don't understand!”
“No one fire except on my order!” barked the general. “Captain, what's this all about?”
The uniformed woman who had identified Jeannie spoke. “General, this woman is Ava Dixon, a Replicator created by Poole Laboratories some months ago. I was on the team that helped Dr. Lee download her consciousness into a virtual environment. As far as I knew, her body was scrapped, sir.”
“Captain Yamato is quite right,” said the general, studying Jeannie. “I recognize you, too. Now, Miss Dixon, how did you get here? And this better be a damn good answer.”
“General Landry? She claims it's a 64A,” put in Sergeant Harriman in a stage whisper.
“A what?” snapped the general.
“A 64A, sir.”
“Walter, if I have to ask you what the hell-”
“A, uh, body swap situation, sir. Code 64. With the subjects possibly possessed by hostile entities.” When Landry stared murderously, he added quickly, “There was a memo about it, sir.”
General Landry turned back to Jeannie. “All right, then, just who are you claiming you are?”
“I'm Jean Miller, General, I'm Mere-I mean, Rodney McKay's sister. I'm a, uh, a consultant,” she explained quickly, glancing at Sergeant Harriman. “My body's got someone else in it. And Dr. Lee, too-they've got his body as well. And three more who look like me-I mean, like Ava Dixon.”
The general looked to his right. “Captain-”
“Yessir,” said Yamato with a nod, and spun to leave the room, presumably to put out a notice about retaining everybody Jeannie had just mentioned. At least, she certainly hoped so.
“All right, Mrs. Miller, if that's indeed who you are, do you want to tell me who 'they' is?”
She winced. She hated to do this to Bill, but-“Replicators.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Replicator consciousnesses, General. They escaped from the virtual environment and into mine and Dr. Lee's bodies. And into three other Replicator bodies. Like this one.” She was still keenly aware of all of the many many guns pointed in her direction. She dearly wished General Landry would order them to stand down.
“Are you telling me that there are five Replicators loose somewhere?”
Jeannie swallowed. She wondered if they auditioned generals on looking dangerous when they gave out stars. “Yes. Sir.” Then she hastened to add, “Well, not really Replicators, I mean, they won't try to replicate. But they're, uh, artificial intelligences. Like Ava Dixon. She's not one of them, though, they-we, I mean-just look like her.”
“Walter, I want this base on lockdown until we find everybody involved or ascertain that they have left the mountain. Contact all of our standing units outside the base with full profiles of the people we want.”
“Yessir,” said Sergeant Harriman, and left the room, already speaking into his radio. Somewhere in the base, alarms started sounding.
General Landry turned his full attention back to Jeannie. “Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”
“So what happened?”
Ava looked up from the tablet she had become absorbed in. She had not shared what was on it. “What do you mean?” Her tone was impersonal, closed-off, and he felt like he could feel his heart breaking. It was the same feeling he got when he looked at Marjorie and saw her frowning at him with her arms crossed, an angry stranger to him, and yet at the same time vividly remembered embracing her, touching her soft, dark hair, making love to her, holding her hand when Jeremy was born . . . it was a terrible feeling of being torn between two realities, of knowing that it was his fault that invisible, irreversible line had been crossed over which he could never return.
Maybe Ava could forgive him. It was a foolish thought-after all, part of him still hoped Marjorie could forgive him.
He tried to concentrate on something else, continue the thread of conversation. “Uh, here, I mean. The violence.” Yet another thing that was his fault, his screwup. “What happened?”
Ava shrugged slightly. “Someone figured it out. It started out as a small movement and then gained momentum as people realized the truth.” She shot him a look, even though he had said nothing. “I had nothing to do with that, you should know. After all, I had no idea. I suppose that was my gullible naïveté.”
That stabbed. He tried to pretend it didn't. “But . . . the violence. How . . . ? I swear I didn't build them to-I mean, I didn't-”
“They don't call it murder,” said Ava. “To them, it's programming.”
“Huh?”
“The people they started killing. They were only part of the virtual environment. It isn't murder then, is it?”
“But-they seemed to-I mean, they were fighting you, and you're not, you know, just a program.”
“I'm not?” she asked mildly.
He couldn't find an answer.
After a moment Ava resumed. “Some of us disagreed with their methods. Felt that they should be more certain of what was going on before going around exterminating people they judged were not actually people. I was one of those who begged them to think.” She raised her eyebrows, giving him a pointed look. “Ironic, isn't it, that I asked for caution? I should have been among those who were most angry with what was going on.”
Again, he couldn't think what to say. What on earth did she want from him? Somehow he didn't think an apology would quite do.
“I don't even know,” said Ava quietly, almost as if to herself, “I don't even know, among the people who are with me here, which are programs and which are consciousnesses. Part of me isn't sure it matters.”
“The others . . .”
“Around twenty of us, all working against Janus and his little militia.”
“But what about . . . the environment was programmed to be part of a world, the government should have responded . . .”
Ava was shaking her head. “Janus' scientists realized that all of the extant consciousnesses were localized in this town, so they somehow managed to isolate it from the rest of the VE. And we're the only ones left.”
Oh. Bill swallowed against a throat that still scratched horribly from smoke. Why couldn't he just think it better? This was a VE, after all. Had Janus and his crew messed with the back end programming so badly? Maybe if he could get to a tablet . . . the import of Ava's words suddenly penetrated. “Wait. The only ones left in this whole town? You said twenty are with you, and Janus can't have more than twenty-four . . .”
“Less, actually. A few of them have-well, let's just say that they can die from firearms, since they didn't know they shouldn't be vulnerable to them.”
It was like The Matrix. Scarily so.
“But they took care of most of the townspeople before we even got organized enough to fight back. And they've gotten some of us since then, too. I never know whether to mourn or not.” She looked at Bill. “You could tell me, couldn't you?”
“I could,” he said slowly. “If you, you know, want me to.”
Wordlessly, she handed him the tablet. On it was a list of about a dozen names.
He didn't even have to think about it. He recognized them right away. “Archibald Thane,” he told her quietly, “and Cody Rodriguez.” Archie Thane-apparently around thirty, a teddy bear of a personality, and the epitome of the perfect gentleman. Cody Rodriguez-a young rascal who loved teasing and practical jokes as long as it was all in good fun, someone who would brighten your day with his cheeky smile and love of bad puns. Bill wished he had met them.
Ava closed her eyes and quietly reached out to touch the wall, as if she needed it to steady herself.
Jeannie paced the room. Back and forth. Back and forth.
They didn't trust her. That was more than clear, as evidenced by the airmen outside her door and the fact that they had ever so politely told her that she was basically under arrest and that she should stay put in what was obviously a cell. She wasn't even sure whether they believed her. Well, why would they? She was a Replicator.
She shied away from that thought, trying not to concentrate on the fact that her current body was one swirling amalgam of nanites. Every time she noticed her too-thin arms or her too-straight, too-brown hair or heard her own different-sounding voice, a sob wanted to rise in her throat. Her non-existent throat, because really it was all nanite interactions simulating a human form, wasn't it? For God's sake, she knew better than almost anyone exactly what her body was made of. And the thought that she might be stuck this way forever . . . never to go back to being herself again, but to be trapped as a stranger . . . what about her family? Would Madison even recognize her? And Kaleb, he would probably always look at her differently, no matter how hard he might try; it was just the way things went, wasn't it? Stop it! she told herself forcibly. Those sorts of thoughts will get you nowhere.
It didn't stop them from rising up unchecked, along with a clogged feeling of a sob developing just behind her nose and eyes. She wondered if she could even shed tears. The thought just made her feel like crying even more.
And then she heard a voice that almost made her faint with relief.
“Okay, will someone tell me what this is all about? Because somebody mentioned my sister, and I am getting seriously anxious here. You can't just drop a mention of someone's little sister and not explain, you know. That's-”
“Mer!” she cried, dashing towards the small barred window in the door. The slight movement of the guards bringing their weapons to bear brought her up short, and and she had to swallow a sob of frustration, a feeling of invasion. “Mer! It's me!”
The door opened to reveal two more guards flanking her brother, her socially awkward, excessively arrogant, tactless older brother, and it was the dearest sight she'd ever seen.
He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on her, and confusion and shock warred on his face. “Wait, what?” he managed.
“Mer, it's me,” she said again, and definitely had to sniff back tears. “It's me! I taped over the Batman marathon you recorded when I was in sixth grade and you said you'd never speak to me again and managed it for twenty-seven days. You slept with a night-light until tenth grade, and then you got rid of it but left your room light on and always claimed you fell asleep doing homework. Uh, you had a cocker spaniel named Tesla and you refused to let me pet him but he ran away after like two weeks and I told you it served you right and you sulked for like a month. And remember when I was eight, I snuck down to play with your chemistry set but you had mixed up the labels and I ended up setting off an explosion that shattered all the good china and you totally got blamed for it-”
“I did not mix up the labels!” Meredith fumed. “You misread-” Then he froze, and his eyes widened. “Jeannie?” he whispered.
She was definitely crying now. “It's me,” she said again, smearing at her eyes, trying to stop. Dumb body. What was the point of being artificial if she couldn't manage to stop crying?
He came forward and sort of gingerly hugged her, in his hesitant I'm-still-not-sure-about-this-personal-space-invading-thing kind of way. Jeannie heard a few cries of “Sir!” from the guards, but Meredith apparently totally disregarded them, and she was grateful. She clung to him, feeling stupid but needing it all the same. He deals with this sort of thing all the time. He and John and everyone else-they'll get everything set to rights again.
Finally Meredith pulled back and studied her. “Crap, Jeannie, what happened?”
Still sniffling a bit, Jeannie held up a hand. “Look.” She concentrated, wondering if this would work . . . and watched in sick fascination as her hand dissolved into silver . . .
Meredith flinched back from her as if she were disease-ridden, the disgust and fear in his voice unmistakable. “You're a-”
Her hand snapped back to being human-looking as something inside her crumpled like a discarded pop can. She turned away from him, her tears welling up anew.
“Oh crap-Jeannie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-come on.” He was touching her shoulder, trying to get her to face him. “You could have just told me, you know. You don't always have to be such a show-off. Look, we'll figure this out, whatever it is. Just stop with the . . . you know, the crying . . . thing. Please?”
She almost laughed through her tears. Her brother was so wonderfully and reassuringly familiar. “I'm glad you're here,” she whispered.
“Yeah, well, I'm not going to leave you in Bill Lee's hands. The man's an oaf. He-”
“Mer, about Bill-”
“What? What did he do? Oh God, is he the one who got you stuck like this? I'm going to crash his World of Warcraft server for this, I swear. It's the only language that man understands. He's like a teenager. Where is he, anyway?”
Jeannie didn't know where to begin.
Mer's eyes widened at the look on her face. “Oh, God, he isn't dead, is he? Did I just threaten a dead man?”
“No, no, he isn't, but he's trapped. In a VE.”
Her poor brother looked thoroughly lost. “Okay, what happened here? And what does this have to do with you?”
“Well-a couple weeks ago Bill e-mailed me and asked for some help with a project-”
“And you said yes? Are you insane?”
“Hey, you weren't collaborating with me anymore!”
“Because I didn't want you to get hurt again! And then you go and collaborate with Bill Lee-”
“Mer, I'm a big girl! I can take care of myself!”
“Obviously not!”
They glared at each other. Finally Jeannie admitted, “Okay, yes, there's a situation right now, but I knew there would be risks working with all of you! And that's my decision to make. Besides, you're the person who brought me in on all this in the first place!”
She could tell she had stung him. He stared, speechless, his eyes full of guilt and anxiety.
“Look, Mer,” she said, softening a little, “I'm glad you did, okay? I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Stop trying to protect me. It's not like you don't go out on ridiculously dangerous missions on a regular basis, and that scares me to death, but I'm not going to tell you to give up your job.”
He mumbled, “It's different with you.”
“What? Why?” she demanded indignantly.
“Because you're my little sister!” He made a self-conscious movement with his hands. “Besides, you've got, you know, family. People who care about you.”
“And you think you don't?”
He looked at her, shock at her challenge evident on his face, his mouth hanging open slightly. Jeannie was exasperated. For goodness' sake, hadn't the man ever considered that it might hurt her if something happened to him?
With typical military bad timing, General Landry chose that moment to arrive at her little cell. “Dr. McKay, I see you've been apprised of the situation. Can you verify that this is indeed your sister?”
Still gobsmacked, Mer turned. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's my sister. But for your information, I haven't been 'apprised' of anything, not the least of which being, what the hell is my sister doing in a detention cell?”
“I'm sorry, Dr. McKay,” said the general, though his tone said the apology was only a formality. “We had to be certain she was who she said she was. We haven't been able to locate the Replicator inhabiting her own body yet.”
“The Repli-what?” Mer looked at Jeannie incredulously. “How was that not the first thing you mentioned?” He turned back to the military in the hallway. “Hey! Somebody get me to a lab, and fill me in on the way. And you're coming with me,” he added, grabbing Jeannie's arm. “Put those guns down. I swear, you Air Force grunts would shoot a kitten if someone told you it was an alien life form. Come on, Jeannie.”
And ignoring cries of, “Dr. McKay-” and “Sir-” from behind him, Meredith bulldozed his way through her guards and past the general as if he owned the SGC, Jeannie in tow.
Sometimes she really loved her brother.
“Hi, Ava.” A blond girl who looked like she was maybe eighteen had entered, carrying a tray that held what looked like two bowls of soup. “I brought you some food.” She set it down on the table and offered one bowl to Bill with a shy smile. “Hi, I'm Ruby.”
“Hi,” said Bill. Ruby. There was no Ruby among the twenty-four he had created. This little porcelain girl with the shy smile was nothing more than a program.
He avoided looking at Ava. They hadn't really said much since he had told her that two of her casualties had been people.
“Ava? Ava!” cried a voice, and Bill was startled to recognize Ahmed as he dashed in the door with a tall, matronly-looking woman. “Ava, they've found us. We just got word from Piers, we've got to go.”
Ava roused, spinning into action. “Ruby! Grab José and get the weapons. Gladys, get Bill to the rendezvous point. Ahmed, you're with me,” she ordered, and was dashing out of the room.
The matronly-looking woman came over to Bill. “You up for a trip, honey? 'Fraid we've got to get moving.”
“Sure.” He coughed, belying his words, but tried to talk bravely anyway, despite feeling like absolute crap. He smiled weakly up at Gladys. Gladys. He hadn't created a Gladys either. “Anytime.”
“All right, up and at 'em. There you go,” she said almost fondly, as she helped him up. The room swung dizzily. “Whoa there, honey-you okay?”
“Let's go,” he said hoarsely.
“All right, then. Just lean on me, dear. There you are.”
It felt like the longest, most breakneck run of his life.
Even leaning on Gladys, his maligned lungs were screaming by the time he had even just stumbled out of the building. Gladys pulled him through back alleyways and through basement garages, swiftly and quietly. He kept having to stop for coughing fits; he was terrified that the noise would bring down Janus and his goons, and couldn't help but keep looking over his shoulder.
“Aren't there cars in here?” he whispered breathlessly at one point. He felt like he was almost a dead weight that Gladys was dragging along, and felt bad. She's just a program. Stop feeling guilty.
“Oh, sorry sweetie, but there are so few people left now, a car would bring 'em to us right quick. Here, rest a minute and have a drink.” She offered him a canteen of water. “That better, hon?”
He nodded.
“All right, just a little ways more. You gonna make it okay?”
“Yeah. I'll be fine.”
Fine. His definition of that word had expanded a lot since he joined the SGC.
He accepted Gladys' arm again, and the two of them staggered off into the night.
The alarms started blaring before they had even reached the lab.
“Unscheduled off-world activation,” came a voice over the loudspeaker.
“Do you think this has anything to do with-” started Jeannie, looking towards Meredith in fear.
“I doubt it . . .”
The speaker crackled. “Dr. McKay, please report to the gateroom.”
“Make that, I hope not,” groaned Mer. “Come on.”
Jeannie followed him, still trying hard to ignore their very armed escort, who did not seem at all happy about Mer's insistence that she accompany him.
They arrived at the gateroom to see the wormhole just dissipating. And, wow, that sight never ceased to amaze Jeannie. The actual even horizon of a . . . but then the scientific thoughts ground to a halt, because walking gracefully down the ramp, looking slight and regal and ridiculously beautiful even with her rounded belly, was-
“Teyla?” Jeannie asked incredulously.
“Teyla?” cried Mer, a little more incredulously
“Jeannie? Is that you?” asked Teyla, looking towards them.
“Yes, it's me,” said Jeannie, bewildered.
“It is good to see you again,” said Teyla, and without hesitation or the least bit of abhorrence came up and placed her hands on Jeannie's shoulders, leaning her head forward for their foreheads to touch. Jeannie felt tears coming to her eyes as she completed the gesture.
“Teyla, what are you doing here?” Mer demanded from beside them, never one to wait for an appropriate moment. “Oh God, Sheppard and Ronon aren't in trouble, are they? I told Sam that if she wanted me to come back to Atlantis they'd be lost without me, but then she mentioned Jeannie, and-”
“John and Ronon are fine, Rodney,” said Teyla with a tolerant smile. Jeannie strongly suspected she often used that smile with Meredith. “At least as far as I know. Colonel Carter told me why you had been recalled, and since the rest of the team cannot be here, I came to see what I could do to help.”
“But you're not supposed to be on active duty!” cried Meredith, horrified.
“I am not on active duty,” said Teyla serenely. “I am here to keep a friend company during a time of crisis and to offer what help I can.”
“Well I, for one, am very glad you're here,” cut in Jeannie, throwing a pointed look at her brother, who was still frowning at them and didn't seem to notice. She gave up and turned back to Teyla. “Teyla, oh my gosh . . . you look great. How is everything?”
“Okay, if you two are going to start swapping pregnancy stories, I think I might be the person to vomit,” said Meredith.
Both women ignored him. “I am well, thank you. I am more concerned about you at the moment.”
“Yes, thank you! Back on topic! Come on,” Mer insisted, trying to shoo them out of the gateroom with him. “Work to be done, have to get going!”
“Did you get the box of baby stuff I sent?” Jeannie couldn't help asking as they started to walk with him. “I mean, certainly don't feel obligated to use it all, but-”
“I did receive it. Thank you,” said Teyla sincerely. “I am sure it will all be most useful. I shall be sure to send photographs.”
“And have the guys thrown you a shower yet?”
“A what?” squawked Mer, stopping and spinning around so suddenly that Jeannie almost ran into him.
Teyla smiled. “Jeannie explained that it is a custom on your planet-”
“For women! A women custom! A girl thing! Female! Men don't do showers. Ever!”
“Do not worry, Rodney. My people will hold a new life celebration for me once we find them.” Her expression dimmed a little.
Jeannie felt her heart going out to her friend. “Teyla, if there's anything I can do-anything at all-”
“Five Replicators on the loose! Hello!” cried Mer.
They started walking again, but Teyla reached over to squeeze Jeannie's arm. “Thank you.”
Continue to Part Four.
Author: Jem
Prompt: Artificial Intelligence
Word count: About 30,000
Rating: Probably PG-13, possibly R (for violence)
[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five]
PART 3
Jeannie felt one moment of dizzying disorientation, and then the world swung right side up, and the fire and smoke were snuffed out as if they had never been. Instead, she was lying down watching the bubble-like pod retract above her, as if everything had only been a nightmare that she was just waking up from, except it wasn't, it had been real, and-and she was awake now, but still, everything felt wrong. Different, somehow. She pulled herself up and stumbled out from the pod, tripping over her own legs in her haste, and staggered upright.
And then she stared around the room, spooked, wondering if she was still in the VE.
Everything was wrong, and she couldn't figure out how. Well, of course something's wrong! she scoffed at herself almost hysterically. You just barely escaped from a virtual environment being taken over by a bunch of guerrilla AIs who are apparently trying to escape by stealing our bodies-
Her thoughts screeched to a halt.
Oh, no way.
She took a step back to look down at herself, almost not wanting to see, and wobbled. Heels. She was wearing heels. And it wasn't haste that had made her trip over herself, it was beautiful nylon-sheathed legs that were completely unfamiliar. She gazed down at her hands, the too-fine bones and long slender fingers. She used to want hands like that, but now that she had them, they wouldn't stop shaking. And when she looked down at herself, she saw a ridiculously model-thin body wrapped in a dark brown business suit . . .
She was in the body of one of the Ava Dixon-style Replicators.
The first ludicrous thought that came to mind was, I swear I will never be self-conscious about my weight again. She shook her head, trying to clear it. Pull yourself together, Jean Willamina Miller! Okay, first things first-where was Bill?
She scanned the room, and felt her stomach drop sickly within her. The rest of the pods were empty.
Oh my God . . . I do not believe it . . .
There were five Replicators loose on Earth, one of them in her body, and Bill . . . Bill was trapped in a virtual environment. One that was being taken over by those same Replicators.
She sat down suddenly on the pod bed, realizing that she was shaking, hard. What was she going to do?
Okay, logical first step-you have to let someone know what's going on. This is the SGC, after all. They'll take it from there.
Right.
And she had to do it fast, not sit here thinking about it.
She jumped up and tried to dash frantically out into the hallway, but immediately tripped over the unfamiliar legs and shoes.
She almost screamed. Just what I need to be dealing with right now!
She kicked off the heels impatiently, and, leaving them on the floor of the lab, made her way out into the corridor, keeping one hand braced against the wall and testing each hurriedly stumbling step, feeling like she wasn't quite sure how everything was put together. And, to be honest, she wasn't. Everything felt queer-breathing, walking, just the way her body rubbed against itself when she moved . . .
It was only then that she remembered this body was made completely of nanites.
Whoa there.
She stopped, one hand pressed to the wall, feeling dizzy. She was in a Replicator body. Everything she was feeling was just nanite interactions that were being interpreted and processed and somehow translated into sensation for her brain. How on earth did that work, she wondered? A human brain in a Replicator body? She'd have to look at the programming more-it was going to bug her no end until she figured it out.
She saw someone turn into the hallway, a short, serious-looking man with glasses who was walking engrossed in the papers he was reading.
“Hey!” she shouted, and speaking felt weird, too, tinny and too high and in the wrong part of her throat, throwing her and momentarily derailing her urgency.
The man she had seen looked up at her, startled, and suspicion immediately clouded his features. She must have looked a sight, staggering along as if drunk with no shoes on. “Are you authorized to be here?” he demanded.
“Yes!” Jeannie cried, exasperated, then amended, “Well, I am, but not-look, there's been a-I need to talk to somebody. It's important,” she finished lamely. It suddenly hit her that she really didn't have a succinct explanation for any of this.
“I'm afraid I'm going to have to call security,” he said, activating his radio before she could say anything. “This is Sergeant Harriman, I need a security team in corridor 21 Charlie. Unauthorized entry.”
“No, really, look, that isn't necessary! I was on a visitor's pass today. Guest of Bill Lee.”
“Do you have your guest pass?”
“No, but-”
“And where is Dr. Lee?”
She hesitated. “It's complicated.”
His expression was unreadable. “What's your name?”
“Jean Miller.”
Something in his face changed, and he touched his radio again. “This is Sergeant Harriman. Unauthorized person is claiming to be Dr. McKay's sister.”
“No-well, yes, because I am! And you should tell those security people, if they see me-I mean, her-I mean, if they see someone they think is me, they should arrest her, okay? Oh, and if they see anybody else who looks like this me, too-they should arrest her. Except not this this me. And, and Dr. Lee. He needs to be taken into custody too, or whatever you call it. Right away!”
Sergeant Harriman's expression was completely blank. “We need to arrest Mrs. Miller and Dr. Lee,” he repeated with flat skepticism. “Perhaps you would like to tell me why.”
“Because they're not us!” Jeannie wished she could start over; she was quite sure she was not explaining this at all well. “Look, I really need to talk to the general or-or somebody,” she insisted, her spazzing mind choosing that moment to blank out on the name of the base commander. “Please! It's really important.”
A bit of a frown had crept onto Sergeant Harriman's face. “Wait, are you saying this is some sort of body swap thing?”
“Yes! Exactly!” cried Jeannie desperately.
He made an exasperated noise. “Not another one. Why didn't you say so in the first place?” He touched his radio. “Sergeant Harriman here. We may have a code 64A on our hands, repeat, a possible code 64A, subjects Dr. William Lee and Jean Miller.” He looked back at Jeannie. “I'm afraid you're still going to have to be escorted by security, ma'am, until we can get this all sorted.”
She nodded, dazed at the left turn. “Does this, uh, happen a lot?”
“Enough that we have a code number for it,” he answered grimly.
The security team chose that moment to come pounding around the corner. Jeannie staggered backwards against the wall-the whole situation was so completely overwhelming. This was the second time in a matter of hours that she'd been surrounded by gun barrels, for Pete's sake! She was totally winning the “who's having the worst day” contest here . . .
“What's the situation, Sergeant?” one of the soldiers inquired, not taking his eyes or gun off of Jeannie.
“We may have a 64A, sir. This woman claims to be Jean Miller, who's on our consulting staff.”
“Consulting staff? I am?” asked Jeannie, dazed. That was news to her.
“Yes ma'am, that's the designation your security clearance is under,” answered Sergeant Harriman.
“Oh,” she said, wondering if this man had the records of the entire base typed in his brain.
“Ma'am, you'll have to come with us immediately,” said the soldier who seemed to be in charge.
“Okay. Uh, where? Because I need to tell someone about what's happened-this is really important-”
“Don't worry, ma'am, we'll take you straight to General Landry for a debriefing.”
“Code 64A is very specific,” put in Sergeant Harriman, almost as if he were showing off a trivia fact.
“Right,” said Jeannie, trying to ignore the very large guns that were still being pointed in her direction. “Lead the way, then. And, uh, we should really hurry.”
Bill felt someone dabbing at his forehead with a wet cloth. Groggily, he tried to blink his eyes open. They stung and scratched horribly, and his vision blurred with tears. Exhausted, he closed them again.
He didn't really remember much after he had gotten Jeannie out and Ava and her people had dragged him out of the building. He was pretty sure he had at least halfway passed out from the smoke; Ava and whoever she was working with must have gotten him to . . . wherever they were now. His throat and lungs stabbed horribly every time he took a breath, and he really felt too damn tired to do anything.
Except that there were five Replicators who had escaped into the SGC, and the VE was being torn apart by violent sentient AIs, and it was all his fault.
He forced himself to open his eyes against his tearing vision, coughing painfully. He felt the familiar shape of an oxygen mask being pressed against his face and struggled to sit up. Gradually, his vision cleared to reveal the unsmiling face of Ava Dixon.
She removed the oxygen mask as his breathing eased, tossing it to one side. “Bill, I think you owe me an explanation,” she said, with no preamble.
He coughed again, his eyes tearing miserably. At least he could claim it was completely from the smoke. “I-I'm sorry,” he managed wretchedly. “I . . . I don't know what to say. I'm sorry.”
She crossed her arms. “So this has been a virtual environment all along.”
He nodded miserably, his tearing eyes leaking out onto his cheeks. He'd lost his glasses somewhere, he realized. It didn't seem important.
“Ever since I left the SGC,” Ava verified coldly.
He didn't know what to say. Apologize again? Make some lame excuse, like that she was too dangerous? Beg her to accept that it hadn't been his idea, that he had wanted her at the SGC, as a scientist? None of it seemed adequate or appropriate.
“So what was it that kept you coming in here? A pity stop?”
“No,” he mumbled raspingly. “I . . . you won't believe me.”
“I wonder why.”
He was silent.
“And now what? A Replicator colony gone wrong? Where did Janus and his crew come from?”
“Me,” answered Bill miserably.
Ava stared at him, her eyes widening incredulously. “What?”
“I wanted . . . I wanted you to have some company, some people, that were real,” he explained. It seemed so everlastingly stupid now. “It seemed like the only thing I could do for you.”
Her eyebrows jumped up a mile at that. “You created Janus to be good company? Bill, I don't think I want to know who you invite over for dinner parties.”
“Well, no one really. I work too much.”
She stared at him. “I was joking,” she said, though she still showed no trace of a smile. She studied him for a moment, and he could feel it coming. “I suppose I should ask why you didn't tell me I was living in a virtual world,” she said, the slightest hint of bitterness creeping into her voice, “but I assume your answer will be security clearance.”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “I really wanted to. Believe me. I-that's why, I tried to think, if I could make it a little more real-”
“I get it.” she said, but her voice had gone back to being flat.
“I guess you hate me now, huh,” he got out, though he broke down coughing again at the end of it. The pain in his throat and lungs seemed an appropriate complement his current mood. How had he botched everything so badly? How?
Ava looked him in the eye. “I feel betrayed,” she admitted baldly. “I might get past it. I might not.”
It was no less than Bill had expected, but he still felt his heart sink within him.
Almost immediately upon being hustled to a conference room, Jeannie heard an authoritative voice demanding, “All right, someone tell me what's going on.” She was just registering a two-star general entering the room when someone cried out, “I know her! She's a Replicator!”
The clack of guns chambering sounded through the room like a metallic, deathly round of applause. Jeannie squealed, ducking involuntarily. “No you don't understand!”
“No one fire except on my order!” barked the general. “Captain, what's this all about?”
The uniformed woman who had identified Jeannie spoke. “General, this woman is Ava Dixon, a Replicator created by Poole Laboratories some months ago. I was on the team that helped Dr. Lee download her consciousness into a virtual environment. As far as I knew, her body was scrapped, sir.”
“Captain Yamato is quite right,” said the general, studying Jeannie. “I recognize you, too. Now, Miss Dixon, how did you get here? And this better be a damn good answer.”
“General Landry? She claims it's a 64A,” put in Sergeant Harriman in a stage whisper.
“A what?” snapped the general.
“A 64A, sir.”
“Walter, if I have to ask you what the hell-”
“A, uh, body swap situation, sir. Code 64. With the subjects possibly possessed by hostile entities.” When Landry stared murderously, he added quickly, “There was a memo about it, sir.”
General Landry turned back to Jeannie. “All right, then, just who are you claiming you are?”
“I'm Jean Miller, General, I'm Mere-I mean, Rodney McKay's sister. I'm a, uh, a consultant,” she explained quickly, glancing at Sergeant Harriman. “My body's got someone else in it. And Dr. Lee, too-they've got his body as well. And three more who look like me-I mean, like Ava Dixon.”
The general looked to his right. “Captain-”
“Yessir,” said Yamato with a nod, and spun to leave the room, presumably to put out a notice about retaining everybody Jeannie had just mentioned. At least, she certainly hoped so.
“All right, Mrs. Miller, if that's indeed who you are, do you want to tell me who 'they' is?”
She winced. She hated to do this to Bill, but-“Replicators.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Replicator consciousnesses, General. They escaped from the virtual environment and into mine and Dr. Lee's bodies. And into three other Replicator bodies. Like this one.” She was still keenly aware of all of the many many guns pointed in her direction. She dearly wished General Landry would order them to stand down.
“Are you telling me that there are five Replicators loose somewhere?”
Jeannie swallowed. She wondered if they auditioned generals on looking dangerous when they gave out stars. “Yes. Sir.” Then she hastened to add, “Well, not really Replicators, I mean, they won't try to replicate. But they're, uh, artificial intelligences. Like Ava Dixon. She's not one of them, though, they-we, I mean-just look like her.”
“Walter, I want this base on lockdown until we find everybody involved or ascertain that they have left the mountain. Contact all of our standing units outside the base with full profiles of the people we want.”
“Yessir,” said Sergeant Harriman, and left the room, already speaking into his radio. Somewhere in the base, alarms started sounding.
General Landry turned his full attention back to Jeannie. “Now, I need you to tell me exactly what happened.”
“So what happened?”
Ava looked up from the tablet she had become absorbed in. She had not shared what was on it. “What do you mean?” Her tone was impersonal, closed-off, and he felt like he could feel his heart breaking. It was the same feeling he got when he looked at Marjorie and saw her frowning at him with her arms crossed, an angry stranger to him, and yet at the same time vividly remembered embracing her, touching her soft, dark hair, making love to her, holding her hand when Jeremy was born . . . it was a terrible feeling of being torn between two realities, of knowing that it was his fault that invisible, irreversible line had been crossed over which he could never return.
Maybe Ava could forgive him. It was a foolish thought-after all, part of him still hoped Marjorie could forgive him.
He tried to concentrate on something else, continue the thread of conversation. “Uh, here, I mean. The violence.” Yet another thing that was his fault, his screwup. “What happened?”
Ava shrugged slightly. “Someone figured it out. It started out as a small movement and then gained momentum as people realized the truth.” She shot him a look, even though he had said nothing. “I had nothing to do with that, you should know. After all, I had no idea. I suppose that was my gullible naïveté.”
That stabbed. He tried to pretend it didn't. “But . . . the violence. How . . . ? I swear I didn't build them to-I mean, I didn't-”
“They don't call it murder,” said Ava. “To them, it's programming.”
“Huh?”
“The people they started killing. They were only part of the virtual environment. It isn't murder then, is it?”
“But-they seemed to-I mean, they were fighting you, and you're not, you know, just a program.”
“I'm not?” she asked mildly.
He couldn't find an answer.
After a moment Ava resumed. “Some of us disagreed with their methods. Felt that they should be more certain of what was going on before going around exterminating people they judged were not actually people. I was one of those who begged them to think.” She raised her eyebrows, giving him a pointed look. “Ironic, isn't it, that I asked for caution? I should have been among those who were most angry with what was going on.”
Again, he couldn't think what to say. What on earth did she want from him? Somehow he didn't think an apology would quite do.
“I don't even know,” said Ava quietly, almost as if to herself, “I don't even know, among the people who are with me here, which are programs and which are consciousnesses. Part of me isn't sure it matters.”
“The others . . .”
“Around twenty of us, all working against Janus and his little militia.”
“But what about . . . the environment was programmed to be part of a world, the government should have responded . . .”
Ava was shaking her head. “Janus' scientists realized that all of the extant consciousnesses were localized in this town, so they somehow managed to isolate it from the rest of the VE. And we're the only ones left.”
Oh. Bill swallowed against a throat that still scratched horribly from smoke. Why couldn't he just think it better? This was a VE, after all. Had Janus and his crew messed with the back end programming so badly? Maybe if he could get to a tablet . . . the import of Ava's words suddenly penetrated. “Wait. The only ones left in this whole town? You said twenty are with you, and Janus can't have more than twenty-four . . .”
“Less, actually. A few of them have-well, let's just say that they can die from firearms, since they didn't know they shouldn't be vulnerable to them.”
It was like The Matrix. Scarily so.
“But they took care of most of the townspeople before we even got organized enough to fight back. And they've gotten some of us since then, too. I never know whether to mourn or not.” She looked at Bill. “You could tell me, couldn't you?”
“I could,” he said slowly. “If you, you know, want me to.”
Wordlessly, she handed him the tablet. On it was a list of about a dozen names.
He didn't even have to think about it. He recognized them right away. “Archibald Thane,” he told her quietly, “and Cody Rodriguez.” Archie Thane-apparently around thirty, a teddy bear of a personality, and the epitome of the perfect gentleman. Cody Rodriguez-a young rascal who loved teasing and practical jokes as long as it was all in good fun, someone who would brighten your day with his cheeky smile and love of bad puns. Bill wished he had met them.
Ava closed her eyes and quietly reached out to touch the wall, as if she needed it to steady herself.
Jeannie paced the room. Back and forth. Back and forth.
They didn't trust her. That was more than clear, as evidenced by the airmen outside her door and the fact that they had ever so politely told her that she was basically under arrest and that she should stay put in what was obviously a cell. She wasn't even sure whether they believed her. Well, why would they? She was a Replicator.
She shied away from that thought, trying not to concentrate on the fact that her current body was one swirling amalgam of nanites. Every time she noticed her too-thin arms or her too-straight, too-brown hair or heard her own different-sounding voice, a sob wanted to rise in her throat. Her non-existent throat, because really it was all nanite interactions simulating a human form, wasn't it? For God's sake, she knew better than almost anyone exactly what her body was made of. And the thought that she might be stuck this way forever . . . never to go back to being herself again, but to be trapped as a stranger . . . what about her family? Would Madison even recognize her? And Kaleb, he would probably always look at her differently, no matter how hard he might try; it was just the way things went, wasn't it? Stop it! she told herself forcibly. Those sorts of thoughts will get you nowhere.
It didn't stop them from rising up unchecked, along with a clogged feeling of a sob developing just behind her nose and eyes. She wondered if she could even shed tears. The thought just made her feel like crying even more.
And then she heard a voice that almost made her faint with relief.
“Okay, will someone tell me what this is all about? Because somebody mentioned my sister, and I am getting seriously anxious here. You can't just drop a mention of someone's little sister and not explain, you know. That's-”
“Mer!” she cried, dashing towards the small barred window in the door. The slight movement of the guards bringing their weapons to bear brought her up short, and and she had to swallow a sob of frustration, a feeling of invasion. “Mer! It's me!”
The door opened to reveal two more guards flanking her brother, her socially awkward, excessively arrogant, tactless older brother, and it was the dearest sight she'd ever seen.
He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on her, and confusion and shock warred on his face. “Wait, what?” he managed.
“Mer, it's me,” she said again, and definitely had to sniff back tears. “It's me! I taped over the Batman marathon you recorded when I was in sixth grade and you said you'd never speak to me again and managed it for twenty-seven days. You slept with a night-light until tenth grade, and then you got rid of it but left your room light on and always claimed you fell asleep doing homework. Uh, you had a cocker spaniel named Tesla and you refused to let me pet him but he ran away after like two weeks and I told you it served you right and you sulked for like a month. And remember when I was eight, I snuck down to play with your chemistry set but you had mixed up the labels and I ended up setting off an explosion that shattered all the good china and you totally got blamed for it-”
“I did not mix up the labels!” Meredith fumed. “You misread-” Then he froze, and his eyes widened. “Jeannie?” he whispered.
She was definitely crying now. “It's me,” she said again, smearing at her eyes, trying to stop. Dumb body. What was the point of being artificial if she couldn't manage to stop crying?
He came forward and sort of gingerly hugged her, in his hesitant I'm-still-not-sure-about-this-personal-space-invading-thing kind of way. Jeannie heard a few cries of “Sir!” from the guards, but Meredith apparently totally disregarded them, and she was grateful. She clung to him, feeling stupid but needing it all the same. He deals with this sort of thing all the time. He and John and everyone else-they'll get everything set to rights again.
Finally Meredith pulled back and studied her. “Crap, Jeannie, what happened?”
Still sniffling a bit, Jeannie held up a hand. “Look.” She concentrated, wondering if this would work . . . and watched in sick fascination as her hand dissolved into silver . . .
Meredith flinched back from her as if she were disease-ridden, the disgust and fear in his voice unmistakable. “You're a-”
Her hand snapped back to being human-looking as something inside her crumpled like a discarded pop can. She turned away from him, her tears welling up anew.
“Oh crap-Jeannie, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-come on.” He was touching her shoulder, trying to get her to face him. “You could have just told me, you know. You don't always have to be such a show-off. Look, we'll figure this out, whatever it is. Just stop with the . . . you know, the crying . . . thing. Please?”
She almost laughed through her tears. Her brother was so wonderfully and reassuringly familiar. “I'm glad you're here,” she whispered.
“Yeah, well, I'm not going to leave you in Bill Lee's hands. The man's an oaf. He-”
“Mer, about Bill-”
“What? What did he do? Oh God, is he the one who got you stuck like this? I'm going to crash his World of Warcraft server for this, I swear. It's the only language that man understands. He's like a teenager. Where is he, anyway?”
Jeannie didn't know where to begin.
Mer's eyes widened at the look on her face. “Oh, God, he isn't dead, is he? Did I just threaten a dead man?”
“No, no, he isn't, but he's trapped. In a VE.”
Her poor brother looked thoroughly lost. “Okay, what happened here? And what does this have to do with you?”
“Well-a couple weeks ago Bill e-mailed me and asked for some help with a project-”
“And you said yes? Are you insane?”
“Hey, you weren't collaborating with me anymore!”
“Because I didn't want you to get hurt again! And then you go and collaborate with Bill Lee-”
“Mer, I'm a big girl! I can take care of myself!”
“Obviously not!”
They glared at each other. Finally Jeannie admitted, “Okay, yes, there's a situation right now, but I knew there would be risks working with all of you! And that's my decision to make. Besides, you're the person who brought me in on all this in the first place!”
She could tell she had stung him. He stared, speechless, his eyes full of guilt and anxiety.
“Look, Mer,” she said, softening a little, “I'm glad you did, okay? I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Stop trying to protect me. It's not like you don't go out on ridiculously dangerous missions on a regular basis, and that scares me to death, but I'm not going to tell you to give up your job.”
He mumbled, “It's different with you.”
“What? Why?” she demanded indignantly.
“Because you're my little sister!” He made a self-conscious movement with his hands. “Besides, you've got, you know, family. People who care about you.”
“And you think you don't?”
He looked at her, shock at her challenge evident on his face, his mouth hanging open slightly. Jeannie was exasperated. For goodness' sake, hadn't the man ever considered that it might hurt her if something happened to him?
With typical military bad timing, General Landry chose that moment to arrive at her little cell. “Dr. McKay, I see you've been apprised of the situation. Can you verify that this is indeed your sister?”
Still gobsmacked, Mer turned. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's my sister. But for your information, I haven't been 'apprised' of anything, not the least of which being, what the hell is my sister doing in a detention cell?”
“I'm sorry, Dr. McKay,” said the general, though his tone said the apology was only a formality. “We had to be certain she was who she said she was. We haven't been able to locate the Replicator inhabiting her own body yet.”
“The Repli-what?” Mer looked at Jeannie incredulously. “How was that not the first thing you mentioned?” He turned back to the military in the hallway. “Hey! Somebody get me to a lab, and fill me in on the way. And you're coming with me,” he added, grabbing Jeannie's arm. “Put those guns down. I swear, you Air Force grunts would shoot a kitten if someone told you it was an alien life form. Come on, Jeannie.”
And ignoring cries of, “Dr. McKay-” and “Sir-” from behind him, Meredith bulldozed his way through her guards and past the general as if he owned the SGC, Jeannie in tow.
Sometimes she really loved her brother.
“Hi, Ava.” A blond girl who looked like she was maybe eighteen had entered, carrying a tray that held what looked like two bowls of soup. “I brought you some food.” She set it down on the table and offered one bowl to Bill with a shy smile. “Hi, I'm Ruby.”
“Hi,” said Bill. Ruby. There was no Ruby among the twenty-four he had created. This little porcelain girl with the shy smile was nothing more than a program.
He avoided looking at Ava. They hadn't really said much since he had told her that two of her casualties had been people.
“Ava? Ava!” cried a voice, and Bill was startled to recognize Ahmed as he dashed in the door with a tall, matronly-looking woman. “Ava, they've found us. We just got word from Piers, we've got to go.”
Ava roused, spinning into action. “Ruby! Grab José and get the weapons. Gladys, get Bill to the rendezvous point. Ahmed, you're with me,” she ordered, and was dashing out of the room.
The matronly-looking woman came over to Bill. “You up for a trip, honey? 'Fraid we've got to get moving.”
“Sure.” He coughed, belying his words, but tried to talk bravely anyway, despite feeling like absolute crap. He smiled weakly up at Gladys. Gladys. He hadn't created a Gladys either. “Anytime.”
“All right, up and at 'em. There you go,” she said almost fondly, as she helped him up. The room swung dizzily. “Whoa there, honey-you okay?”
“Let's go,” he said hoarsely.
“All right, then. Just lean on me, dear. There you are.”
It felt like the longest, most breakneck run of his life.
Even leaning on Gladys, his maligned lungs were screaming by the time he had even just stumbled out of the building. Gladys pulled him through back alleyways and through basement garages, swiftly and quietly. He kept having to stop for coughing fits; he was terrified that the noise would bring down Janus and his goons, and couldn't help but keep looking over his shoulder.
“Aren't there cars in here?” he whispered breathlessly at one point. He felt like he was almost a dead weight that Gladys was dragging along, and felt bad. She's just a program. Stop feeling guilty.
“Oh, sorry sweetie, but there are so few people left now, a car would bring 'em to us right quick. Here, rest a minute and have a drink.” She offered him a canteen of water. “That better, hon?”
He nodded.
“All right, just a little ways more. You gonna make it okay?”
“Yeah. I'll be fine.”
Fine. His definition of that word had expanded a lot since he joined the SGC.
He accepted Gladys' arm again, and the two of them staggered off into the night.
The alarms started blaring before they had even reached the lab.
“Unscheduled off-world activation,” came a voice over the loudspeaker.
“Do you think this has anything to do with-” started Jeannie, looking towards Meredith in fear.
“I doubt it . . .”
The speaker crackled. “Dr. McKay, please report to the gateroom.”
“Make that, I hope not,” groaned Mer. “Come on.”
Jeannie followed him, still trying hard to ignore their very armed escort, who did not seem at all happy about Mer's insistence that she accompany him.
They arrived at the gateroom to see the wormhole just dissipating. And, wow, that sight never ceased to amaze Jeannie. The actual even horizon of a . . . but then the scientific thoughts ground to a halt, because walking gracefully down the ramp, looking slight and regal and ridiculously beautiful even with her rounded belly, was-
“Teyla?” Jeannie asked incredulously.
“Teyla?” cried Mer, a little more incredulously
“Jeannie? Is that you?” asked Teyla, looking towards them.
“Yes, it's me,” said Jeannie, bewildered.
“It is good to see you again,” said Teyla, and without hesitation or the least bit of abhorrence came up and placed her hands on Jeannie's shoulders, leaning her head forward for their foreheads to touch. Jeannie felt tears coming to her eyes as she completed the gesture.
“Teyla, what are you doing here?” Mer demanded from beside them, never one to wait for an appropriate moment. “Oh God, Sheppard and Ronon aren't in trouble, are they? I told Sam that if she wanted me to come back to Atlantis they'd be lost without me, but then she mentioned Jeannie, and-”
“John and Ronon are fine, Rodney,” said Teyla with a tolerant smile. Jeannie strongly suspected she often used that smile with Meredith. “At least as far as I know. Colonel Carter told me why you had been recalled, and since the rest of the team cannot be here, I came to see what I could do to help.”
“But you're not supposed to be on active duty!” cried Meredith, horrified.
“I am not on active duty,” said Teyla serenely. “I am here to keep a friend company during a time of crisis and to offer what help I can.”
“Well I, for one, am very glad you're here,” cut in Jeannie, throwing a pointed look at her brother, who was still frowning at them and didn't seem to notice. She gave up and turned back to Teyla. “Teyla, oh my gosh . . . you look great. How is everything?”
“Okay, if you two are going to start swapping pregnancy stories, I think I might be the person to vomit,” said Meredith.
Both women ignored him. “I am well, thank you. I am more concerned about you at the moment.”
“Yes, thank you! Back on topic! Come on,” Mer insisted, trying to shoo them out of the gateroom with him. “Work to be done, have to get going!”
“Did you get the box of baby stuff I sent?” Jeannie couldn't help asking as they started to walk with him. “I mean, certainly don't feel obligated to use it all, but-”
“I did receive it. Thank you,” said Teyla sincerely. “I am sure it will all be most useful. I shall be sure to send photographs.”
“And have the guys thrown you a shower yet?”
“A what?” squawked Mer, stopping and spinning around so suddenly that Jeannie almost ran into him.
Teyla smiled. “Jeannie explained that it is a custom on your planet-”
“For women! A women custom! A girl thing! Female! Men don't do showers. Ever!”
“Do not worry, Rodney. My people will hold a new life celebration for me once we find them.” Her expression dimmed a little.
Jeannie felt her heart going out to her friend. “Teyla, if there's anything I can do-anything at all-”
“Five Replicators on the loose! Hello!” cried Mer.
They started walking again, but Teyla reached over to squeeze Jeannie's arm. “Thank you.”
Continue to Part Four.