STARGATE ATLANTIS: Dead End by Dead End (SGA-12)

Author:Dead End (SGA-12) [Retail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fandemonium Books
Published: 2020-06-30T21:02:35+00:00

Chapter Eleven

After a heavy slog through the ice, Sheppard and McKay approached the Stargate. The edifice stood defiantly in the middle of a wide depression. It was the only structure for miles around that dared poke its head over the bleak horizon. The grounded Jumper was visible about a mile in the distance, now half-buried in piles of snow.

Despite the millennia of ferocious storms the Stargate must have endured, it was barely marked. The Ancients certainly knew how to build things, Sheppard thought. Worryingly, though, he also noticed that it wasn’t quite level with the horizon.

He cocked his head. “Hey, you think this thing’s leaning over?”

“Possibly,” McKay said, looking rather annoyed. “When you get a tremor in the settlement, the Stargate is likely to be affected too.”

“Gotta wonder why the Ancients built this thing in earthquake central.”

McKay shrugged. “The gate’s been here over ten-thousand years. Things change.” He squinted up at the Stargate. “But whatever’s causing this instability, I don’t want to make it worse. If we power the gate up again, even assuming we can figure out how, we risk cracking the ice further. Sending the Stargate into an ice fissure isn’t going to get us home any time soon.”

McKay turned back to Sheppard. His eyes were rimmed with red. He looked tired. Really tired. The stress of trying to square the circle was clearly getting to him. John regretted his earlier comments about crazy eyes.

“We should press on with the Jumper,” McKay said. “One thing at a time. If we get that working, at least it’s a start.”

“Right,” John said, forcing himself to sound cheerful. “Anything you say.”

They turned their backs on the Stargate and trudged the short distance to the downed Jumper. The deep furrows plowed by their chaotic descent had been completely erased by the actions of the wind and the snow. When they came nearer, it looked for all the world as if the spacecraft had simply been deposited on the plain by an absent-minded pilot.

Thankfully, it had not been completely buried by the fury of the recent blizzard. The front half of the craft, still more or less completely out of action, was inaccessible, but the rear bay poked up out of the snow as if proud of its elevated status.

Sheppard looked at the damaged craft with a little concern. “Uh, you know you said the door controls weren’t working yet?”

“Yeah?” muttered McKay, breaking out his tools.

“Well, how’re we gonna get in?”

McKay took what looked like a massive TV remote out of the leather bag he was carrying. “You really think I’d forget about something like that?”

“Seems not. What is that?”

“The keys,” said McKay, sounding satisfied with himself. “You didn’t think I was just twiddling my thumbs while that storm was blowing over, did you? I mean, once you’ve had your third bowl of buffalo stew and admired your fourteenth charming little tapestry beer-mat, then there’s not a lot to do.”

That, Sheppard had to admit, was true. “I’m impressed,” he said. “Should I say

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