Fic - The Lesser of Two Evils - Elizabeth Weir (PG)
Summary: After Elizabeth loses her sight in an experiment, she thinks things can't get much worse. They do.
Spoilers: For 'Before I Sleep' and 'Michael'.
Season: Set during season 2, before 'Michael'.
Pairing: Minor Elizabeth/Atlantis and some weird sort of implied one-sided Elizabeth/Teyla.
Word Count: Not much over 3000.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis.
A/N: I'm in the UK and have not seen any of season 3, which may or may not be obvious.
Prompt:
- Illnesses or Injuries (A character is very ill or severely injured, loses the use of a sense, or is otherwise temporarily or permanently handicapped.)
~~
Elizabeth sipped her drink, and it was perfect.
Her grip on the mug tightened, and she curled up on her chair, her whole body shielding her hot chocolate from the universe. Her fingertips and the palms of her hands were warm, her tongue and her throat massaged by the heat. Finally she was in a space of her own, and she felt safe within the arms of her chair, relaxing into its cushions and humming a tune that reminded her of home.
A week ago, she would have walked to the balcony, to feel the wind on the ocean, to marvel at the gentle waves and the distant stars. Now though, she did not bother. She sat where it was safe, heavy blankets around her shoulders, where she could lose herself in her other senses and pretend that nothing was lost.
She wished that Simon were with her, not just because he could have held her in the dark (and it would always be dark for her) now, but also because he knew her. She would have felt less embarrassed, less naked, asking him for help, asking him if her clothes looked all right and if her hair was okay and if he could sort through the things in her bathroom or point her in the right direction when she got turned around and disorientated.
Kate had visited earlier, and they had spoken in soothing tones about rational, necessary things. Her eyes had watered a little, but Elizabeth had decided that the tears were hidden beneath the dark glasses. Kate had not commented, and Elizabeth had done her best to hide her frustration at being unable to read the other woman’s face.
She was alone now, and yet not alone; a whole city could be summoned by a single word from her. She finished her drink, and set the mug down on the floor, tucked neatly by the right hand side of her chair. Then she made herself as small as possible, huddled beneath her blankets and tried to sleep, still wearing her headset.
~~
Elizabeth woke up with a stiff neck and cramp in her left leg. She gasped and levered herself upright, leaning heavily on the arm of her chair and doing her best to control her breathing. When the pain subsided to a dull ache, she collapsed back down again and laughed; she hoped no one else was in the room with her, because she was sure she would have looked ridiculous.
Which was when she realised she could not hear anything, not her heavy breathing, not her laugh, nothing. “Hello?” she tried and that made no sound, so she choked on a silent sob and buried her head in her hands. She smashed her feet against the floor in an uncharacteristic expression of rage, which made no noise either, and cried. Obviously the experiment had not gone as expected, and with absolutely no idea of what time it was, she did not know when she could expect anyone to check on her. Maybe, just maybe, if she got help quickly enough she could recover; she was not just going to sit and wait.
She wiped the tears from her face and sniffed, trying to calm herself. Then she patted her hair and her cheek, trying to locate her microphone and thankfully it was still in place.
Once she had found it, she activated what she assumed was a citywide channel and spoke, hoping that only her hearing was affected, and not her voice itself.
“This is Dr Elizabeth Weir. There is a medical emergency in my quarters. I will be unable to respond on this channel. Out.” Keep it simple, she thought.
After slowly counting to five, she tapped ‘dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot,’ on the tip of the microphone, just in case.
She counted again, this time to thirty and when there was no response, she changed the frequency and tried that instead. Elizabeth had used her headset hundred of times and most of those times she had not needed to look to know what she was doing, but the lack of a definite answer was not doing her confidence any good.
There may have been a problem with communications. Atlantis may have been attacked - God, it could have been attacked and she would not have known. They would have tried to reach her, but maybe her people had ran out of time, maybe they had died while she was sat wrapped in a fuzzy blanket.
Shrugging off everything except the uniform in which she had fallen sleep, Elizabeth stood up and made her way over to the door. Her steps were slow; Carson had protested her signing herself out of the infirmary and had given her a cane and a personal escort back to her room, but she had, rather immaturely, thrown it at the wall as soon as he had left. She knew her own space though, knew that the way was clear, and that she would come across the cane soon enough.
The door was sealed shut. Typical. Elizabeth pulled on it, thumped on it and called for help, she tried to will it open (which probably would not have worked even if she had acquired the ATA gene)… and then she ran out of things to do. She could not rip off a panel and rewire anything, especially not blinded. She could not send a message out from her laptop. She rarely had to issue alarms from her bedroom and the only ways she could think to set one off would be to set a lot of things on fire, but then Atlantis would probably just drench her in water and lock down her room even more securely.
She tried to think of every mission report she had ever read, every television episode or film she had ever seen, but all she could think of were things to exclude: blasting her way through the door; lasering her way through the door, drilling her way through the door… Normally she would talk her way out of situations, she had successfully negotiated blindfolded before, but that was not an option either. She was stuck.
Fine, if she had to wait for other people to rescue her, she may as well do it comfortably. If they were being true to form, John, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon would have several plans, and if they did not, Zelenka had managed to save the day a respectable number of times as well. Some truly amazing people lived in her city and Elizabeth was honoured that now she needed help, she could count on theirs. She regretted overruling Carson now, but there was nothing she could do to change that.
She shuffled to her bed and lay down upon it, not expecting to fall asleep.
~~
Elizabeth woke up, unsure of whether she actually been asleep or not. Her head hurt and she felt a little bit nauseous and there was still no response when she tried to contact anyone via her headset. She sat up slowly and decided to try the door again.
She did not realise how disorientated standing would make her feel until she did so, and then she promptly sat down again. There was a bottle of water and a secret supply of chocolate biscuits in the drawer beside her bed and she reached over to it and removed both items. The water was warm and the biscuits tasted of absolutely nothing, and maybe that was a good thing, because the thought crossed her mind that she would have to ration them.
Her hair did not smell of anything either, it no longer smelt of the Athosian oil Teyla had encouraged her to try. Her underarms did not even smell after she had slept in her clothes for a day. She had lost something else, how much more could she possibly give? She was going to die, alone, trapped in an unmoving, unfeeling body and the idea terrified her.
Surely there had to be something she could do to make her last moments meaningful, and if they were not her last moments, well, then she could look back and laugh. There were, of course, orders already put in place for the event of her death, but Elizabeth wanted to make sure command of the city went to Teyla. She rummaged through the items on her bedside table and managed to find a pen, but no paper.
She moved to the middle of her bed, fully intending to write a message on the white sheet, when someone wrapped an arm around her. She screamed, but if whoever it was (a woman, definitely) heard, they did not pull away. A gentle hand stroked her hair and then directed her so that she was lying on her back.
“Help me,” Elizabeth pleaded, “please, don’t leave me.”
The woman took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently.
Presuming she was being heard and understood, Elizabeth continued, hoping she was not misjudging the volume of her voice. “Thank you. Who are you? I need to get a message to Teyla.”
Elizabeth felt her hand being lifted to the woman’s face and the woman shook her head. “No? You’re not Teyla? You can’t get a message to her?”
A definite squeeze and then a sadder, softer one.
“All right,” Elizabeth said, “but please, if you see her or Major Sheppard or Dr McKay, will you let them know that the city… Atlantis… it’s hers now.”
The woman dropped her hand suddenly, and Elizabeth grabbed for it, stricken, but also hoping that meant help was arriving. She was disappointed and incredibly confused when the woman straddled her, a crushing weight across her stomach, and then angry and annoyed and afraid when the woman kissed her.
She tried to fight back; she could not.
She had just decided to stay as still and calm as possible, while waiting for another chance to strike, when there was an amazing jolt, an amazing rush. The woman forced her tongue into Elizabeth’s mouth and with it came a wave of power, of information, of strength, and then everything exploded into a brilliant white light.
“Atlantis has not given up on you yet, Elizabeth,” the woman said.
~~
“You’re…” Elizabeth faltered at the sound of the woman’s voice and also at the sight of her; it was a woman who so very clearly reminded her of Teyla, even though everyone alive with the ancient gene was born on Earth. “You’re Atlantis.”
The woman smiled, “I’m what you think I should be.”
“Where…? Am I dead? Am I dreaming?” This did not make sense, but it somehow felt right and Elizabeth would not have got far without learning to trust her instincts.
“You’re not dead, you’re not dreaming, but you have been sick for a long time. You’re the last one left in the city, and in four days, without you and your people, it will fall.”
“What? What happened to everyone?” This definitely did not make sense, and she still could not hear herself speak.
Atlantis sat up and gracefully rolled to Elizabeth’s left side. “Your Dr Beckett, he injected you here,” she pointed to Elizabeth’s arm, “and everything went dark. The sickness spread, killing all those of you with our genes, sparing only those with the most resistance to our presence.”
“That’s where I come in, I take it.” She had tried, really tried, not to be jealous of those with the ATA gene, having seen what they could do, but it seemed, this time, that fact had saved her life. Barely. “What about the Athosians?”
“They remain, isolated, outside my shield, but they would die just the same if they came into contact with your people.”
“Right, then you must have brought me here, wherever here is, for a reason.” Things like that never happened without a reason.
“You did not want to die alone, so I came to you. Your DNA may not have accepted it, but the gene we passed on to you still remains in your blood. It is a crude connection we have formed, nothing compared to the power of one of my direct descendents, but it will suffice. You will not die alone.”
Elizabeth sat up and realised she was still on her bed, still blind, still deaf. She could see and hear only Atlantis - she must be hallucinating - but it was worth trying anything now. “There must be something you can do, couldn’t you… send me back in time?”
“No,” Atlantis stood up, “but I might be able to send your mind back, to coexist with someone from an earlier time. Your body here is dying.”
“The door…” Elizabeth struggled to her feet.
“I’ve opened it.”
“You sealed it, didn’t you? To protect me.” Everyone on the other side of that door was dead; Elizabeth wanted to be sick at the thought of it.
“I could not open it sooner,” Atlantis assured her, She pointed to a spot on the floor in front of her, a beam of light radiating from her hand. “Your cane,” she said. “We must hurry.”
Elizabeth followed the light, trusting that she would not fall over anything before she reached it. She bent down and found the stick, leaning on it to steady herself; she suspected she would need it more to rest on than to find her way. “Where are we going?”
“Follow me.” Atlantis winked, and for a moment she wore Teyla’s smile. “If we don’t meet again, Elizabeth, thank you. You don’t always have to choose yourself.”
Then she disappeared.
~~
“Hello?” Elizabeth called, but everything was silent. “Hello?”
The door to her bedroom opened and a bright, yellow light shone in from the corridor, even though everything else was completely dark.
Ok, that was good. Maybe Atlantis had abandoned her human shape, but not Elizabeth herself. Elizabeth dragged herself to the door and looked out of it: the light led off to the left and towards a transporter. She followed it.
Half way down the corridor, her cane hit something soft and heavy on the floor, and with an unheard squeal, she realised it was a body. She did not dare touch it, and instead used the cane to work her way around whoever it had once been.
Eventually she made her way to the transporter and fell into it, relieved. Within a couple of seconds, the other side opened and she walked into the room.
There was no light, nothing to guide her, so Elizabeth held her cane forward and steady, sweeping it in front of her to try to gather some information about her surroundings. Five steps forward and she came into contact with something, it sounded metallic, and by circling it, she discovered it to be about the same size as a desk. Gently running her hand over the top, she found it had a control panel on it, and by pushing the crystal in the top right hand corner, she assumed she had switched it on. She could feel it vibrate, subtly, through her fingertips.
“All right,” she said to herself, forming the words automatically. There was no way, she thought, that she could make things worse than they already were. Even if she managed to somehow destroy the city, despite her best intentions, at least it would not fall into enemy hands. It was twelve days before the Daedalus was expected back, she suddenly remembered, and she wished she had left a message for them, but her headset had been lost somewhere and she had to trust that Colonel Caldwell would follow procedure.
Ancient technology tended to be quite intuitive, she knew, and so she concentrated and traced the crystals of the console, praying that she would instinctively know which ones to press. One of them, set aside from the rest, had a design embossed underneath it, one Elizabeth thought would look similar to the symbol for ‘help’ and so she pressed it. To her surprise, words scrolled up in front of her eyes, and as she hovered her hand over different crystals, different words appeared. This must be what it’s like for John, she thought, but as far she knew, he had never mentioned it.
She could go back and inhabit the body of anyone, from anytime, it seemed, for a maximum of three days. After that, she would just fade away.
Atlantis had told her not to pick herself, but as far as she could tell, the only other person who could make a difference was Carson. She did not think she had the right to go and change the way he thought.
Taking a deep breath, the last she would ever take in her own body, Elizabeth entered the commands, and hoped.
~~
“Carson, you can’t research this any further, it’s too dangerous.” Elizabeth had awoken one morning with a nagging feeling that something was wrong, and it was only when she accessed the Ancient database (and she was not sure why she felt pressed to do that either) that she worked out what it was. Carson was working too hard to force the ATA gene onto those incompatible with his original drug, something the Ancients themselves had tried to do with other native races of the Pegasus Galaxy as a test of their security systems. “Here, I’ve translated this and I think you should read it.” She handed over an account of how a virus had weakened the Ancients because of their efforts.
It did not take him long to read, and he agreed with her assessment, but he had found something else working exploring. “It implies that they also tried to interfere with Wraith DNA, turn them into humans.”
“Yes, I saw that too.”
“Well, I think I could do that, or if not, I think I can adapt their work and manage to get a more successful vaccine.” Carson looked desperate to be allowed to continue on with at least one of the projects.
It was a horrific idea, Elizabeth knew, something that should not be condoned, something that would never be allowed if they were on Earth, but the same pressing feeling told her it would, in the long run, be the lesser of two evils. “All right, see what you can do about the Wraith,” she said.
She knew she had made the right choice.
She had also located another of the Ancients’ last-ditch efforts to win the war: a machine that allowed one to interfere with the minds of others. Afraid that she had played fast and loose with her morals once too often, Elizabeth ordered that the room be sealed and off-limits to everyone.
The machine was not destroyed though. Elizabeth was sure that the worst was yet to come, and maybe, just maybe, it could be useful.
~~
The End
Spoilers: For 'Before I Sleep' and 'Michael'.
Season: Set during season 2, before 'Michael'.
Pairing: Minor Elizabeth/Atlantis and some weird sort of implied one-sided Elizabeth/Teyla.
Word Count: Not much over 3000.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate: Atlantis.
A/N: I'm in the UK and have not seen any of season 3, which may or may not be obvious.
Prompt:
- Illnesses or Injuries (A character is very ill or severely injured, loses the use of a sense, or is otherwise temporarily or permanently handicapped.)
~~
Elizabeth sipped her drink, and it was perfect.
Her grip on the mug tightened, and she curled up on her chair, her whole body shielding her hot chocolate from the universe. Her fingertips and the palms of her hands were warm, her tongue and her throat massaged by the heat. Finally she was in a space of her own, and she felt safe within the arms of her chair, relaxing into its cushions and humming a tune that reminded her of home.
A week ago, she would have walked to the balcony, to feel the wind on the ocean, to marvel at the gentle waves and the distant stars. Now though, she did not bother. She sat where it was safe, heavy blankets around her shoulders, where she could lose herself in her other senses and pretend that nothing was lost.
She wished that Simon were with her, not just because he could have held her in the dark (and it would always be dark for her) now, but also because he knew her. She would have felt less embarrassed, less naked, asking him for help, asking him if her clothes looked all right and if her hair was okay and if he could sort through the things in her bathroom or point her in the right direction when she got turned around and disorientated.
Kate had visited earlier, and they had spoken in soothing tones about rational, necessary things. Her eyes had watered a little, but Elizabeth had decided that the tears were hidden beneath the dark glasses. Kate had not commented, and Elizabeth had done her best to hide her frustration at being unable to read the other woman’s face.
She was alone now, and yet not alone; a whole city could be summoned by a single word from her. She finished her drink, and set the mug down on the floor, tucked neatly by the right hand side of her chair. Then she made herself as small as possible, huddled beneath her blankets and tried to sleep, still wearing her headset.
~~
Elizabeth woke up with a stiff neck and cramp in her left leg. She gasped and levered herself upright, leaning heavily on the arm of her chair and doing her best to control her breathing. When the pain subsided to a dull ache, she collapsed back down again and laughed; she hoped no one else was in the room with her, because she was sure she would have looked ridiculous.
Which was when she realised she could not hear anything, not her heavy breathing, not her laugh, nothing. “Hello?” she tried and that made no sound, so she choked on a silent sob and buried her head in her hands. She smashed her feet against the floor in an uncharacteristic expression of rage, which made no noise either, and cried. Obviously the experiment had not gone as expected, and with absolutely no idea of what time it was, she did not know when she could expect anyone to check on her. Maybe, just maybe, if she got help quickly enough she could recover; she was not just going to sit and wait.
She wiped the tears from her face and sniffed, trying to calm herself. Then she patted her hair and her cheek, trying to locate her microphone and thankfully it was still in place.
Once she had found it, she activated what she assumed was a citywide channel and spoke, hoping that only her hearing was affected, and not her voice itself.
“This is Dr Elizabeth Weir. There is a medical emergency in my quarters. I will be unable to respond on this channel. Out.” Keep it simple, she thought.
After slowly counting to five, she tapped ‘dot dot dot, dash dash dash, dot dot dot,’ on the tip of the microphone, just in case.
She counted again, this time to thirty and when there was no response, she changed the frequency and tried that instead. Elizabeth had used her headset hundred of times and most of those times she had not needed to look to know what she was doing, but the lack of a definite answer was not doing her confidence any good.
There may have been a problem with communications. Atlantis may have been attacked - God, it could have been attacked and she would not have known. They would have tried to reach her, but maybe her people had ran out of time, maybe they had died while she was sat wrapped in a fuzzy blanket.
Shrugging off everything except the uniform in which she had fallen sleep, Elizabeth stood up and made her way over to the door. Her steps were slow; Carson had protested her signing herself out of the infirmary and had given her a cane and a personal escort back to her room, but she had, rather immaturely, thrown it at the wall as soon as he had left. She knew her own space though, knew that the way was clear, and that she would come across the cane soon enough.
The door was sealed shut. Typical. Elizabeth pulled on it, thumped on it and called for help, she tried to will it open (which probably would not have worked even if she had acquired the ATA gene)… and then she ran out of things to do. She could not rip off a panel and rewire anything, especially not blinded. She could not send a message out from her laptop. She rarely had to issue alarms from her bedroom and the only ways she could think to set one off would be to set a lot of things on fire, but then Atlantis would probably just drench her in water and lock down her room even more securely.
She tried to think of every mission report she had ever read, every television episode or film she had ever seen, but all she could think of were things to exclude: blasting her way through the door; lasering her way through the door, drilling her way through the door… Normally she would talk her way out of situations, she had successfully negotiated blindfolded before, but that was not an option either. She was stuck.
Fine, if she had to wait for other people to rescue her, she may as well do it comfortably. If they were being true to form, John, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon would have several plans, and if they did not, Zelenka had managed to save the day a respectable number of times as well. Some truly amazing people lived in her city and Elizabeth was honoured that now she needed help, she could count on theirs. She regretted overruling Carson now, but there was nothing she could do to change that.
She shuffled to her bed and lay down upon it, not expecting to fall asleep.
~~
Elizabeth woke up, unsure of whether she actually been asleep or not. Her head hurt and she felt a little bit nauseous and there was still no response when she tried to contact anyone via her headset. She sat up slowly and decided to try the door again.
She did not realise how disorientated standing would make her feel until she did so, and then she promptly sat down again. There was a bottle of water and a secret supply of chocolate biscuits in the drawer beside her bed and she reached over to it and removed both items. The water was warm and the biscuits tasted of absolutely nothing, and maybe that was a good thing, because the thought crossed her mind that she would have to ration them.
Her hair did not smell of anything either, it no longer smelt of the Athosian oil Teyla had encouraged her to try. Her underarms did not even smell after she had slept in her clothes for a day. She had lost something else, how much more could she possibly give? She was going to die, alone, trapped in an unmoving, unfeeling body and the idea terrified her.
Surely there had to be something she could do to make her last moments meaningful, and if they were not her last moments, well, then she could look back and laugh. There were, of course, orders already put in place for the event of her death, but Elizabeth wanted to make sure command of the city went to Teyla. She rummaged through the items on her bedside table and managed to find a pen, but no paper.
She moved to the middle of her bed, fully intending to write a message on the white sheet, when someone wrapped an arm around her. She screamed, but if whoever it was (a woman, definitely) heard, they did not pull away. A gentle hand stroked her hair and then directed her so that she was lying on her back.
“Help me,” Elizabeth pleaded, “please, don’t leave me.”
The woman took hold of her hand and squeezed it gently.
Presuming she was being heard and understood, Elizabeth continued, hoping she was not misjudging the volume of her voice. “Thank you. Who are you? I need to get a message to Teyla.”
Elizabeth felt her hand being lifted to the woman’s face and the woman shook her head. “No? You’re not Teyla? You can’t get a message to her?”
A definite squeeze and then a sadder, softer one.
“All right,” Elizabeth said, “but please, if you see her or Major Sheppard or Dr McKay, will you let them know that the city… Atlantis… it’s hers now.”
The woman dropped her hand suddenly, and Elizabeth grabbed for it, stricken, but also hoping that meant help was arriving. She was disappointed and incredibly confused when the woman straddled her, a crushing weight across her stomach, and then angry and annoyed and afraid when the woman kissed her.
She tried to fight back; she could not.
She had just decided to stay as still and calm as possible, while waiting for another chance to strike, when there was an amazing jolt, an amazing rush. The woman forced her tongue into Elizabeth’s mouth and with it came a wave of power, of information, of strength, and then everything exploded into a brilliant white light.
“Atlantis has not given up on you yet, Elizabeth,” the woman said.
~~
“You’re…” Elizabeth faltered at the sound of the woman’s voice and also at the sight of her; it was a woman who so very clearly reminded her of Teyla, even though everyone alive with the ancient gene was born on Earth. “You’re Atlantis.”
The woman smiled, “I’m what you think I should be.”
“Where…? Am I dead? Am I dreaming?” This did not make sense, but it somehow felt right and Elizabeth would not have got far without learning to trust her instincts.
“You’re not dead, you’re not dreaming, but you have been sick for a long time. You’re the last one left in the city, and in four days, without you and your people, it will fall.”
“What? What happened to everyone?” This definitely did not make sense, and she still could not hear herself speak.
Atlantis sat up and gracefully rolled to Elizabeth’s left side. “Your Dr Beckett, he injected you here,” she pointed to Elizabeth’s arm, “and everything went dark. The sickness spread, killing all those of you with our genes, sparing only those with the most resistance to our presence.”
“That’s where I come in, I take it.” She had tried, really tried, not to be jealous of those with the ATA gene, having seen what they could do, but it seemed, this time, that fact had saved her life. Barely. “What about the Athosians?”
“They remain, isolated, outside my shield, but they would die just the same if they came into contact with your people.”
“Right, then you must have brought me here, wherever here is, for a reason.” Things like that never happened without a reason.
“You did not want to die alone, so I came to you. Your DNA may not have accepted it, but the gene we passed on to you still remains in your blood. It is a crude connection we have formed, nothing compared to the power of one of my direct descendents, but it will suffice. You will not die alone.”
Elizabeth sat up and realised she was still on her bed, still blind, still deaf. She could see and hear only Atlantis - she must be hallucinating - but it was worth trying anything now. “There must be something you can do, couldn’t you… send me back in time?”
“No,” Atlantis stood up, “but I might be able to send your mind back, to coexist with someone from an earlier time. Your body here is dying.”
“The door…” Elizabeth struggled to her feet.
“I’ve opened it.”
“You sealed it, didn’t you? To protect me.” Everyone on the other side of that door was dead; Elizabeth wanted to be sick at the thought of it.
“I could not open it sooner,” Atlantis assured her, She pointed to a spot on the floor in front of her, a beam of light radiating from her hand. “Your cane,” she said. “We must hurry.”
Elizabeth followed the light, trusting that she would not fall over anything before she reached it. She bent down and found the stick, leaning on it to steady herself; she suspected she would need it more to rest on than to find her way. “Where are we going?”
“Follow me.” Atlantis winked, and for a moment she wore Teyla’s smile. “If we don’t meet again, Elizabeth, thank you. You don’t always have to choose yourself.”
Then she disappeared.
~~
“Hello?” Elizabeth called, but everything was silent. “Hello?”
The door to her bedroom opened and a bright, yellow light shone in from the corridor, even though everything else was completely dark.
Ok, that was good. Maybe Atlantis had abandoned her human shape, but not Elizabeth herself. Elizabeth dragged herself to the door and looked out of it: the light led off to the left and towards a transporter. She followed it.
Half way down the corridor, her cane hit something soft and heavy on the floor, and with an unheard squeal, she realised it was a body. She did not dare touch it, and instead used the cane to work her way around whoever it had once been.
Eventually she made her way to the transporter and fell into it, relieved. Within a couple of seconds, the other side opened and she walked into the room.
There was no light, nothing to guide her, so Elizabeth held her cane forward and steady, sweeping it in front of her to try to gather some information about her surroundings. Five steps forward and she came into contact with something, it sounded metallic, and by circling it, she discovered it to be about the same size as a desk. Gently running her hand over the top, she found it had a control panel on it, and by pushing the crystal in the top right hand corner, she assumed she had switched it on. She could feel it vibrate, subtly, through her fingertips.
“All right,” she said to herself, forming the words automatically. There was no way, she thought, that she could make things worse than they already were. Even if she managed to somehow destroy the city, despite her best intentions, at least it would not fall into enemy hands. It was twelve days before the Daedalus was expected back, she suddenly remembered, and she wished she had left a message for them, but her headset had been lost somewhere and she had to trust that Colonel Caldwell would follow procedure.
Ancient technology tended to be quite intuitive, she knew, and so she concentrated and traced the crystals of the console, praying that she would instinctively know which ones to press. One of them, set aside from the rest, had a design embossed underneath it, one Elizabeth thought would look similar to the symbol for ‘help’ and so she pressed it. To her surprise, words scrolled up in front of her eyes, and as she hovered her hand over different crystals, different words appeared. This must be what it’s like for John, she thought, but as far she knew, he had never mentioned it.
She could go back and inhabit the body of anyone, from anytime, it seemed, for a maximum of three days. After that, she would just fade away.
Atlantis had told her not to pick herself, but as far as she could tell, the only other person who could make a difference was Carson. She did not think she had the right to go and change the way he thought.
Taking a deep breath, the last she would ever take in her own body, Elizabeth entered the commands, and hoped.
~~
“Carson, you can’t research this any further, it’s too dangerous.” Elizabeth had awoken one morning with a nagging feeling that something was wrong, and it was only when she accessed the Ancient database (and she was not sure why she felt pressed to do that either) that she worked out what it was. Carson was working too hard to force the ATA gene onto those incompatible with his original drug, something the Ancients themselves had tried to do with other native races of the Pegasus Galaxy as a test of their security systems. “Here, I’ve translated this and I think you should read it.” She handed over an account of how a virus had weakened the Ancients because of their efforts.
It did not take him long to read, and he agreed with her assessment, but he had found something else working exploring. “It implies that they also tried to interfere with Wraith DNA, turn them into humans.”
“Yes, I saw that too.”
“Well, I think I could do that, or if not, I think I can adapt their work and manage to get a more successful vaccine.” Carson looked desperate to be allowed to continue on with at least one of the projects.
It was a horrific idea, Elizabeth knew, something that should not be condoned, something that would never be allowed if they were on Earth, but the same pressing feeling told her it would, in the long run, be the lesser of two evils. “All right, see what you can do about the Wraith,” she said.
She knew she had made the right choice.
She had also located another of the Ancients’ last-ditch efforts to win the war: a machine that allowed one to interfere with the minds of others. Afraid that she had played fast and loose with her morals once too often, Elizabeth ordered that the room be sealed and off-limits to everyone.
The machine was not destroyed though. Elizabeth was sure that the worst was yet to come, and maybe, just maybe, it could be useful.
~~
The End