The Star's Heart, Chapter 9, pt 1
Title: "The Mystery of the Star's Heart"
Author: Taylor Dancinghands -taylor@tdancinghands.com
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Beckett, Zelenka, Weir, Teyla, Ronon, (nun!)Jeannie McKay, Grodin, Lorne, Caldwell, among others.
Pairings: Zelenka/McKay, Sheppard/Lorne past and Sheppard/Lorne/Teyla preslash, Beckett/Weir, Caldwell/Jeannie McKay romance background
Category: slash, pre-slash, Steampunk AU, romance, action/adventure
Spoilers: none
Warnings: m/m relationships (eventually)
Rating: Teen
Summary:In a bygone future that never was, the US Special Projects Bureau's Airship Daedalus carries an expedition into the Hollow Earth to discover the fabled lost city of Atlantis...
(An index for the whole story to-date can be found here.)
Chapter 9, pt 1
In which Sheppard learns to fly something new, and a great celebration leads to a great discovery.
"The desire to fly is an idea handed down to us by our ancestors who, in their grueling travels across trackless lands in prehistoric times, looked enviously on the birds soaring freely through space, at full speed, above all obstacles, on the infinite highway of the air.."
-Orville Wright
"More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination."
-Wilbur Wright
Gazing at the controls before him, John Sheppard ran over the procedure he'd followed once before, for getting Zelenka's giant, mechanical pigeon off the ground. It was discomfiting to have everything marked in a language which was indecipherable to him, but then he reminded himself that those controls were of no concern for him now. They were, for the most part, only for the pre-programmed functions of the orlub, but he was going to do what no one else had done before, and actually fly the thing himself.
For that, Zelenka had explained to him, he would use the pivoting knob in the center of the console -which controlled the machine's attitude- and a single pedal on the floor -which controlled wing speed. The olub's takeoff and landing functions would still be reprogrammed, however, which meant that the trickiest point would be at the transition. John would have about fifteen seconds to take control of the orlub when the takeoff sequence ended, and then he would be on his own.
Zelenka had been nervous just explaining it to him, and John was plenty nervous now, sitting in the pilot's seat and perched on the Daedalus' quarter deck. Drawing a breath, he remembered how it had felt to be sitting in this very seat, watching the sun rise over the North Atlantic, swooping down to circle above the lighthouse, as free as the other winged creatures who swooped and wheeled about him. The machine had been in control then, but if John was half the pilot everybody said he was, he could have that freedom for himself. All he had to do was take one more leap of faith... in himself.
Gathering his resolve, John set the controls for takeoff and flipped up the toggle that would bring the orlub to life. As before, it shuddered and 'fluffed' itself -making sure all its flight surfaces were in order, Zelenka had explained to him. Then it gathered itself and sprang to the rail, and after only the briefest of pauses, sprang once more, into the air.
The orlub's wings beat furiously at first as it gained altitude, but it did not take long to attain level flight. After only a few seconds John heard the chime that warned that the controls would be released in fifteen seconds. The chime rang three more times -at five second intervals- and at the last, John was ready. He began by immediately pulling back on the knob and pressing down on the pedal, to lift the machine higher and push it faster.
The orlub instantly angled upward steeply, but hardly sped up at all, causing a moment of frightening instability. So, the knob control was tetchy, the pedal not so much. John held the attitude steady, but put more pressure on the pedal, seeing that there was more give there than he'd thought. Now the orlub surged forward and climbed... straight toward the wall of the cavern.
Ever so carefully, John nudged the attitude knob to the left and the orlub banked nicely, veering away from the cavern wall at a comfortable distance. Damn, this was working out great! He tried guiding the craft down toward the surface of the sea now, plotting a serpentine course that had him banking to the left then the right, then the left again, all the way down. He quickly got a feel for the controls, and tried a few sharper swerves, laughing out loud as he felt himself gain mastery of the craft.
He pulled up sharply as he approached the Daedalus, eliciting a surprised shout from the lookout, then banked to the right and set a course for the Athosian settlement. The orlub's copper and brass feathers gleamed as he danced in and out of the directed, afternoon sunbeams, and the fleeting shadows he threw across the settlements had folk pausing in their various tasks to see what had caused it. Shouts and gleeful ululations greeted him as he passed the opening to the Athosians' side cavern and he waved, grinning as he spotted Jinto among those watching.
Now he wheeled to the right, making a slow circle to head back toward Atlantis. He did not take a direct route, naturally, but flew low, passing in front of the lower waterfall closely enough to become moistened by the spray. Then he pulled up to rise above the lake and then above the city, gliding over the outlying piers and then coming in close to circle the central tower. He'd planned to set the craft down on the upper level balcony, but now he found he was loathe to leave off. The freedom was intoxicating, and his skills improved with every minute he remained, so what harm could there be in staying up a little longer?
Waving gleefully to Bates and Parrish, watching him from a lower balcony on the central tower, John carefully nudged the controls to carry him up and away from the city. He circled it once more, from a distance, then soared across the cavern toward the wide tunnel entrance and its surrounding mirror array. As an experienced pilot, John almost certainly should have taken into consideration the possibility of wind, but of course, then was generally very little in the cavern... except for near the tunnel.
It was as he swept past the mirror array above the tunnel entrance that John first began to feel the orlub fight his control, veering closer to the array when he directed the flying machine to bank away. He pressed down on the pedal to increase his speed, and pulled the attitude knob hard to the right, and then he felt the wind, pulling at him and the orlub and drawing them into the tunnel.
Of course, John thought with disgust at his own carelessness, The gale-force down-draft that had swept the Daedalus into the Hollow Earth during the night must naturally be matched by an updraft during the day. John pressed the speed pedal down as far as it would go, feeling the craft bucking the wind currents pulling at it. For several very long seconds John wasn't sure he was going to manage to pull himself out, but then, all at once, the orlub broke free, and John let out an unrestrained whoop of joy.
Now he flew a straight course back to Atlantis, taking only a half circle around the central tower before engaging the landing algorithm. The orlub responded perfectly, coming to perch neatly on the balcony railing and then falling still. John remained where he was for a spell, letting the shakiness of exhilaration and adrenaline pass before he dismounted. Weir and Beckett came running even as his feet came to rest on the terrace floor.
"We, ah, need to tell the expedition meteorologist... what's his name, Scott?" Sheppard said, "that there's a hell of an updraft going into the tunnel during the day. Probably ought to inform all the air launch pilots too."
Weir's eyebrows rose significantly at this information.
“I don’t want to know how you found that out, do I?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, you don’t,” John said. “But now that we do know, all the air launch pilots can be advised. Anyone need a lift anywhere?”
Beckett and Weir exchanged slightly alarmed glanced, and John could see he wasn’t going to get any takers here. “Fine, fine,” he said, crossing the terrace to enter the control room. “Maybe there’s someone in here with a proper sense of adventure. Hey Grodin, wanna take a ride?”
Peter Grodin, who John had spotted watching from inside backed away quickly. “No thank you, Captain,” he said with impeccable politeness. “I’m afraid I’m a bit busy just now.”
John had to admit, the pile of books and journals scattered over the work station where Grodin had clearly been occupied, did seem to confirm his reasoning. He cast his eye over the rest of the control room, hoping to find some willing passenger -as John actually did want to see how the orlub handled with the additional weight. His eye fell on the Parrish, the botanist, scribbling away in a notebook, but before John could come up with a strategy for enticing him, he saw that someone was coming up on one of the lifts.
It was McKay and Zelenka, of course, and the Czech was practically bouncing as he mounted the steps up to the control room.
“Captain Sheppard!” he cried. “I only saw for a moment, but I could see she was flying perfectly! How long was your flight? How well did the controls work? Is it too difficult?”
“Definitely not too difficult,” Sheppard said, letting real pleasure show in his smile. “It’s like a dream come true, Doc. Took me a few minutes to get used to how everything worked, and I still haven’t flown it with a passenger, but I’d call it pretty damn near an unqualified success.”
“Výborně!” Zelenka cried, clearly ecstatic. “For so long I had despaired that I would find anyone who wished to take the risk. You have made me very happy man today, Captain Sheppard.”
“All I can say, Doc, is that the pleasure is mutual,” John said, beaming.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” John heard Dr Weir say now as she reentered the control room. “I could use a lift over to the Athosian settlement, but I’ve got a box of books for Dr Corrigan too. Will I be able to take them, or should I send them with the launch on their next run?”
“Aha,” Zelenka said, raising a finger. “There is small cargo compartment on orlub. Here, I will show you.”
Elizabeth went and got Corrigan’s books and when Zelenka showed them where the cargo compartment was, they found it just big enough to fit them all.
“Perfect,” Sheppard said, latching the compartment door. “Like a hand up, Dr Weir?” She took John’s hand as he guided her foot into the step and then steadied her has she climbed into the passenger compartment. Beckett stood off to the side looking worried.
“Are you sure you want to do this, lass?” he asked. Dr Weir smiled reassuringly.
“I have complete confidence in both Dr Zelenka’s engineering and Captain Sheppard’s piloting,” she said without hesitation. John and Zelenka both thanked her.
“Oh wonderful,” McKay groused. “Now both their heads will be impossibly swollen, and I still have to work with this one!” He cast a disgruntled glance at Zelenka.
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Dr Weir said as John fastened his own safety harness and then saw to Dr Weir’s.
“You ready ma’am?” John asked as he brought the orlub to life.
“As I’ll ever be,” Dr Weir replied gamely.
“Here we go then,” Sheppard said. “Hang on! First step’s a doozey!”
Then with a leap and a swoop, they were airborne again, and John felt his own heart soar with joy.
***
Watching his orlub come to life in the hands of a skilled pilot made Radek Zelenka as happy as he’d ever been in his life, more or less. The smile stayed on his face for the whole rest of the day, and made his various tasks seem like the most pleasant work he’d ever done. The smile was probably the reason McKay kept looking at him like that. He probably thought that Radek was a loon, but Radek had been thought a loon before, and had learned not to mind.
They’d gotten all the lab equipment hauled in after lunch, and the Marines had done most of the lifting and carrying, but now the work was in setting up the various labs and work areas, and assembling equipment. All the scientists had arrived on Atlantis now, even Kavanagh, and each discipline had claimed their own area. There’d been a bit of squabbling about that initially, but then McKay had told them, with the wisdom of Solomon, that they could either settle their own disputes or he would arbitrarily assign labs. It was something to see, how quickly interdisciplinary discourse became the very model of harmonious concordance. Radek was beginning to understand and appreciate McKay’s management style.
The lab they’d chosen had a nice big window with a small balcony, and Zelenka paused as he worked from time to time, to take in the remarkable view of the vast subterranean sea and cavern outside. Occasionally he saw Sheppard flying past in the orlub, and it did seem that he had gotten a few more willing passengers, including the Athosian boy, Jinto. No doubt he thought himself the luckiest boy in the Earth… and possibly on it as well, Radek reflected, and he had good reason to think so.
Radek’s own childhood hadn’t exactly been trouble free. They’d been poor, lost their house to fire when Radek was ten, and he’d lost his younger brother in a flood two years later. His land had been torn by war, and ruled by cruel oppressors, but none of it could compare to what these people endured daily, and had endured for generations.
Still, Radek felt a certain fellowship with the folk of the Realms Below for neither his people nor theirs had allowed their hardships and oppressors to defeat them. They knew, as he did, that every day can bring reason for celebration, and that holding on to joy and the pleasures of life were important, even -or especially- in the darkest of times. The Athosians had good reason to celebrate today, however, as did the expedition members. Yes, they would also be celebrating the memories of five fellow members who had ‘given their all’, but celebrate they would. Grieving, Radek knew, found its own time, and came when it would, but joy must be cultivated and nurtured, and so they would do this evening.
Radek was looking forward to it, but it was clear that McKay was not. Radek suspected that it was not grief that had the scientist in its grip, but the horror of his failure, and this too was something Radek had experience with. If he thought on it, Radek could still feel his younger brother’s smaller hand in his -small, cold fingers twined desperately with his own- and he could feel them pulled away inexorably by the monstrous strength of the river which had overtaken them so suddenly.
All the strength of a boy of twelve summers could not have possibly been a match for it, but in his heart Radek still found himself wanting. The responsibility for holding on to his little brother had been his, and he had failed. Scientists are supposed to be accustomed to failure, of course. Failure should be a close companion, as it was said to be the greatest of teachers, and Radek did not disagree, but there were degrees of failure, and a responsible scientist strives to mitigate the impact of his failures… when he can.
Scientists, at the end of the day, are only men, after all, and could no more be masters of their destiny than any other man. Radek had not believed in the doctrines of any Faith for some time, but he knew full well that there are forces that come to play in a man’s life over which he can have no control. Flooding rivers and invading armies were forces of this sort, with which Radek had come to have some familiarity. He thought that possibly McKay had not had so many such experiences.
The slightly desperate attitude with which McKay had approached all his tasks today suggested to Radek that his colleague was using them as a refuge, but there were limits to this approach, no matter how productive it made McKay in the short term. As a boy, Radek had found refuge in his parents’ forgiveness, and their obvious gratitude that at least two of their three children had survived, but Radek didn’t think that there was anyone here for McKay -not here and possibly not anywhere else either.
Of course, there was his sister (who’d elected to stay on the Daedalus with Novak, for now), but they were essentially estranged, and her faith remained a sore point between them. McKay would definitely not seek solace there. Radek knew that there were, in fact, a number of people who actually cared about Rodney McKay as a person, including Weir, Beckett and Sheppard, but McKay was so used to keeping people at a distance, he didn’t see their regard for him, and would be uncomfortable revealing himself before them. McKay clung to his dignity like a drowning man to a plank, and Radek didn’t think that the others understood that so well, for all that they cared for him.
Radek understood, however. He understood McKay’s need for dignity, and his horror at his apparent failure. Radek understood how one can desperately need forgiveness and fear it like fire in the same breath, and he understood how strong McKay was, and how fragile at the same time. Radek saw clearly how the man perceived only his frailty at the moment, and loathed it, but Radek thought that maybe sharing his own, very secret frailty with the man might provide some comfort, and lead him to beginning to forgive himself.
Glancing toward the window again, Radek saw one of the air launches lifting away from the city and carrying a full load of passengers -no doubt headed towards the Athosian settlement were festivities would begin soon. He set down his tools and stood to stretch, combing his fingers through his hair and shaking himself.
“I am ready for a break,” he announced. “And so are you. Also someone will come soon to take us to the Athosian celebration, and if you are here you will end up having to go.”
That got McKay’s attention, and he turned to gaze directly at Radek, brows furrowed. “What… what about you?” he finally said. “Don’t you want to go?”
Radek shrugged. “Very likely the food will be good, if unfamiliar,” he said, “and someone told me that they claim to have a beverage worthy of being called beer. But I think you do not want to go and I think… that you should not be alone.”
“I don’t need a baby sitter,” McKay scowled, crossing his arms.
“No,” Radek said, “but I think perhaps you could use a friend, ne?”
Radek watched the emotions move through McKay’s expressive eyes; first stubbornness, then confusion, deepening to despairing bewilderment. His shoulders slowly slumped and his crossed arms went from being aggressive to protective. “Why?” he asked at last. “Why would you do that? I mean, you’re nearly as smart as I am… You don’t need me…”
So it was as bad as that? Radek’s heart hurt, but he smiled all the same, letting his sadness show. “Perhaps,” Radek said, “I am just smart enough to appreciate you. Come.” He held out his hand, pulling McKay up from his work station and urging him toward the stairs.
“For now what we need may be found in my quarters,” he said. “I even have glasses, so we need not drink from the bottle.”
“Genius level thinking, Zelenka,” McKay said with profound relief. “Positively inspired.”
Seeking to avoid being corralled into going to the Athosian celebration, the two scientists darted surreptitiously from corridor to corridor until they got to the residential tower. By the time they ducked into Radek’s rooms they were a bit giddy, like two school boys hiding from the headmaster. Shortly, Radek found what he was looking for in his ‘sea chest’ and had opened the small, carved oak box with the cut crystal decanter inside, along with two shot glasses, decorated with painted plums.
He poured a healthy shot in each as McKay sat next to him on the bed (the only real seating in the room), then lifted his glass. “Na zdravi!” Radek toasted when McKay had his glass in hand. They both knocked back their measure of the clear liquor, and Radek smiled to feel its warmth course through him.
“Wow!” said McKay, wheezing a bit. “I mean, it’s smooth, but, ah…”
“Eighty proof,” Radek said, flashing a grin. “My housekeeper makes it, from plums.”
“Plums?” McKay said dubiously, examining the picture on the glass as Radek refilled it.
“We grow a lot of them,” Radek explained, tossing back his second shot.
“Well, here’s to plums,” McKay said, following Radek’s example once again and shuddering in the wake of the liquor’s fire. Already Radek could feel the slivovitz’s relaxing mellow, and might have left off at two shots, but McKay was going to need at least one more to break the hold of the miserable malaise which had seized him, and so he poured one more round. McKay peered at the refilled glass, and at Radek suspiciously.
“You’re not trying to make yourself smarter than me by knocking off my brain cells, are you?” he asked, even as he lifted his glass.
“Effects are temporary, I promise,” Radek said. “And also, am subjecting own brain cells to same abuse, as you can see.” Radek sipped at his own liquor now, savoring the taste a bit as he had not before. With an air of resignation, McKay swallowed his down in one desperate gulp and set his glass down on the packing crate they were using as a table just a bit forcefully.
“God,” he said, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “I might actually be willing to sacrifice a few of them, if only someone would promise me that I would never see that poor bastard on fire again. He’s there every time I close my eyes, every time I try to sleep, the minute I don’t have something urgent to focus on… I can’t stand it anymore and I can’t function like this…”
It was pure human instinct that lead Radek to place a gentle hand on McKay’s shoulder, and it made his heart ache to feel the man tremble at the touch. “I speak from experience,” he said, feeling the ghost of his little brother’s hand slip out of his once more, “when I say to you that it will fade, but also… not all scars are to found on one’s skin.”
“Great,” McKay said, not lifting his head. “I have scars in my brain now.”
“Neither you nor I were meant to have an ordinary life, McKay,” Radek said. “There will inevitably be scars… and deeper wounds as well, but you may be surprised to learn how one can go on to live life, and live well, when the choice is that or giving in to despair.”
“I killed a man, Zelenka,” Mckay said at last, raising his head to meet Radek’s gaze, though there was no hope in his clear blue eyes. “Out of arrogance and foolhardiness… and he died horribly. I can’t take it back; I can’t make it not happen. It’s never going to go away for as long as I live.”
“Radek,” Radek said softly. “You should call me Radek, I think, and I will confess to you that I was the main victim of my own arrogance… but the consequences will be with me for the rest of my life as well.” He lifted his hand away from McKay’s shoulder, tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and began to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you talking about?” McKay asked, frowning, despair still coloring his voice. “You already showed me your ‘noble scars’.”
“Noble?” Radek snorted bitterly. “There is nothing noble in how I got these. They are badges of my arrogance, nothing more, and what you saw…” Radek finished unbuttoning his shirt and then reached down to lift his under-vest, revealing the impossibility which lay beneath. “What you saw is the least of what I bought myself that day.”
McKays eyes widened, predictably, as he took in the apparatus Radek wore beneath his shirt. It was the harness which most people noticed at first, though these days Radek hardly noticed it at all -he’d worn the soft, supple leather next to his skin for so long now. McKay’s eyes, however, went right to the heart -literally- of the matter, as would any technician.
Through the brass bound, round crystal window seated in his chest, McKay would be seeing the clockwork motion of the piston mechanism which did not replace Radek’s heart, but supported it. For sixteen years it had kept Radek Zelenka alive, but only two people in the world knew about it. Rodney McKay would be the third.
Not unreasonably, McKay sat speechless for several long seconds. “Oh my God…” he said at last. “What… what happened? Are you… okay? Should you even be on this expedition?”
“I am as fit as you, McKay -probably fitter,” Radek scowled, lowering his shirt again. “And have been all the time I have worn this apparatus. As for what happened… it is a tale I would share with you, but it is not a short one.”
“Of course it isn’t,” McKay said with resignation. “But you’ve got me going now so you might as well pour me another drink and get on with it.”
Radek did as requested, pouring another for himself as well. Perhaps it would make revisiting those painful events less so, Radek thought, but did not really hope.
“Tak,” he said. “I was with Tesla in those days. We had taken over the old city water tower in Praha and turned it into our residence and workshop -the first electrical engineering firm in central Europe. We were going to electrify Prague -make it a real city of lights, brighter than Paris. We were so full of dreams in those days.”
“When was this?” McKay asked.
“Eighteen sixty-eight,” Radek answered. “Nikola was still five years away from alternating current, but we knew it must be and to us that seemed like tomorrow. We made plans for a water driven generation plant on the Vltava and designed electrical devices for the Empire’s elites. Neither one of us was interested in war machines, and we didn’t mind letting the world know. We thought we could bend the world to our design and we feared nothing and no one.”
“That would be the pride that goeth before…” McKay prompted.
“The fall, yes,” Radek said. “We ignored the first missive from the Prussian King. When he sent an emissary, offering us both princely sums if we would come to work for him, we were altogether rude to him, and when he sent another, we would not let him in and dropped rubbish and rotten vegetables on him from an upper window. We laughed ourselves dizzy. We thought nothing of it at all.”
“Why would you,” Mckay commented quietly, knowing, more or less, what must come next.”
“It was early February, in the dead of winter, in the dead of night,” Radek continued. “They used a small charge of gun powder to break down the door, and then they placed a five man guard at the door and locked the servants in the coal cellar. They captured Nikola and I and took us to our machine shop, and explained that we would sign a contract agreeing to work for Wilhelm of Prussia and swearing fealty to him, or we would be tortured to death.”
“And you didn’t sign?” McKay asked. “Why didn’t you just sign and then cut and run, later?”
“Because the contract was essentially a formality,” Radek explained. “We were being told to sign away our freedom, and we knew that we would not be given any chance to ‘cut and run’, as you say, once we had signed. Also… we were young and in love… and entirely devoted to our ideals. The idea of death did not frighten us… and we did not yet know what it was to suffer -not really.”
“What… what did they do?” asked McKay.
“They used an electric probe… meant to carry current from the network of batteries and capacitors in the building to the various devices Nikola and I were working on,” Radek replied, seeing McKay wince. “They decided to use it on me and make Nikola watch -I have no idea why they chose him to watch and not I- and eventually they figured out how to increase the current.” Radek fell silent then, the memory of the agonies he’d endured still fairly vivid.
“They… they could have killed you,” McKay said, voice quiet with horror.
“They could have,” Radek confirmed. “Though if they had their own lives might well have been forfeit. They had no idea what they were meddling with, and in the end their lives were forfeit anyhow. They shocked and burned me with electricity until the household batteries and capacitors were exhausted, which they did not realize would cause certain automatic defense mechanisms to be activated -including sending all twenty orluby into active mode, and running their defensive algorithm.”
“’Defensive algorithm’?” McKay inquired.
“They attack anything that moves,” Radek answered. “With razor sharp primaries, beak and claws. Eleven men had their throats or wrists cut and bled to death. The rest ran away. Fortunately my housekeepers -Josef and Hanka, who serve me still- knew of the various defensive measures and waited until the birds’ program had run their course, then they freed themselves from the coal cellar and came upstairs to free us. But it was too late for me by then… or under normal circumstanced it would have been. The repeated electric shocks had damaged and weakened my heart, and I felt sure I had only days -or perhaps only hours- to live.”
“But…” McKay said after a shocked pause. “You didn’t give up, you built this.” He gestured to the device Radek had just revealed to him. Radek shook his head sadly.
“It was not I, but Nikola who built this, and saved my live.” Radek said. “I have never known anyone whose belief in themselves so bordered on the pathological, but he was determined not to lose me. I, on the other hand…” Radek sighed. “I was so horrified by my foolishness, my profound arrogance and miscalculation about what powerful men would do to be able to control my works and my brilliance… I was not sure I wanted to live at all. All I saw in my future was that I would either be some other man’s pawn, or spend my whole life in hiding.”
“Which is… more or less what you did,” McKay commented.
Radek and Nikola's tower, in Prague*
“Yes, after Nikola left,” Radek replied. “We’d begun to make a fortress of our tower in Prague when Nikola’s mother died, and he went back to Serbo-Croatia to settle her affairs. When he tried to return he was stopped from reentering Bohemia, on orders of King Wilhelm of Prussia. We had used our influence, in the wake of the attack on our home, to secure the Emperor’s protection within the borders of the Empire, but it now became clear that we had not secured our own freedom.”
“Then that’s… why you’re not together anymore?” McKay asked. “I mean… I’d always assumed that you’d had a falling out or something.”
“Oh we did, after a fashion,” Radek said. “But I suppose it was inevitable after that. We dared not even speak freely in our letters, as we knew our correspondence would not be private from Wilhelm’s spies. I knew that Nikola wanted me to find some way to escape to England, where we would be outside of Prussia’s reach, but it would have been terribly dangerous for me once I left the territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I wanted him to find a way back into the Empire, to come back to me in Prague, but even though I dared not suggest this in any letter, I knew he would never consent.”
“Why not?” McKay asked, which Radek thought was sweet of him.
“Nikola had already sacrificed his own home, long ago,” Radek replied. “He had done so for the sake of his career, for he could not bear to be constrained, to be prevented from going wherever he needed to in order to advance his work, and human knowledge. Returning to Prague, for him, meant being trapped, and he was not wrong. London and New York had far more to offer him, and thus allowed him to offer more to the world. I know he loved me, and I loved him, but in the end we both loved our work more.”
“Yeah…” McKay said sadly. “I don’t know what I would have done, I guess… not that there’s ever been anyone in my life that I might considered risking my scientific work for… besides my sister, I mean. And with family… well it isn’t really an option, is it?”
“Not everyone would say so,” Radek said softly, moved by the man’s nearly thoughtless devotion. “But McKay… have you truly never had anyone take a place in your heart, no one for whom you might have been tempted to give up everything?” McKay’s short answering laugh had a bitter edge to it.
“After four drinks,” he said, “and you want me to call you Radek; you’d better just call me Rodney, don’t you think?”
“Máš pravdu,” Radek said, pouring a fifth round. “You’re right, Rodney.”
McKay… Rodney, sipped at his fresh drink now and shuddered. “And to answer your question, no,” he said. “There was one person at the SPB, who I thought for a little while… but that turned into a hideous fiasco. So no, no one -no loves in my life, great or small. They say it’s supposedly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but honestly, I’m just as glad to have been spared the drama.”
Radek nodded sagely. “It may be that you are wise,” he said, “and that those who say such things are only trying to console themselves. I know that I consigned myself to a life alone, after I realized that Nikola and I would likely never see one another again, and thought that it might be for the best, if I was to make the most of the rest of my life. I renounced my fame and society connections and left Prague to live the life of a very comfortable hermit, as if I could renounce the whole world.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first person who tried,” Rodney said kindly. “I’m… glad you finally gave it up… being a hermit, I mean.”
Radek felt a new warmth, superior to and supplanting that of the liquor. “I am glad to hear you say so,” he said with a smile, lit by the warmth he felt. “You are, in large part, responsible for the fact that I did, you know.”
“I am?” Rodney sounded genuinely shocked.
“It was a ‘flaw’ if you will, of my own character that I soon found that while I wanted the world to have no concerns with me, I could not bring myself not to concern myself with the world. I declared that I would no longer publish, but could not imagine abandoning my various journal subscriptions, nor even give up reading the newspapers, which I had delivered from Paris and Berlin, as well as Prague. For some years I managed to content myself with this, but your work provoked me beyond all endurance, Rodney.”
“I’m told I have a gift for provocation,” Rodney said with a smirk. Radek rolled his eyes.
“Yes, well, of course your published work was brilliant, and miles beyond what everyone else was doing,” Radek acknowledged, “but it was sloppy, and undisciplined. I could not bring myself to stay silent any longer.”
“Sloppy!” Rodney retorted indignantly. “I’ll tell you what’s sloppy! Your mathematical proofs -that’s what’s sloppy, and full of mistakes to boot!”
“Mistakes?” Radek fired back, slamming his glass down. “You want to talk about mistakes? Let us examine your plans for electrical distribution network in New York! It had more mistakes than a stack of freshman math exams!”
“That was Edison’s fault! Not mine!” Rodney declared. “I am never, ever working for that rat bastard again. The design constraints he made me work under… What are you laughing at?”
Radek was laughing, though he’d started as he looked back on his own words. This was just how their indirect correspondence had begun, so many years ago, and he could not help laughing at himself and Rodney, at both of them together, falling back on their most childish behavior.
“We…” he began, “we are such a pair of old fools. Just listen to us!”
Rodney snorted slightly and ducked his head, trying, ineffectually, to hide his slowly growing grin. “Speak for yourself,” he said, without heat. “Your letters and articles… they were pretty much the highlight of my month. Even when you were poking holes in my theories, the fact that you actually understood them… it meant a lot to me.”
Radek nodded, feeling a flush of that non-alcohol related warmth again. “Your responses to my writings… our debates by way of scientific journals… it made me feel alive again,” he said. “As if I were some hibernating creature, coming awake in the spring. And this is the thing I wish you to take from my tale; we two, we have in common a very lively mind. It is inevitable that we will make mistakes, even terrible ones, but we must never be afraid to do so. The only thing we must truly fear, Rodney, is giving up.”
“But I can’t just… just go marching on ahead as though nothing happened,” Rodney said. “A man died because of me, of my mistake…”
“No,” Radek cut him off. “A man died because you and he were being attacked by terrifying creatures of unspeakable evil. He died because they would just as soon have killed all of you, but because of you and your invention they were unable to come near you until they had smashed your invention with a rock. It was merest chance that it was he and not you who was thus stricken, and while I am very sorry for Airman Collins and his family, I am not one tiny bit sorry that it is you standing here today and not him.”
Liquor had done away with the better part of Radek’s discretion, but these were not words he would ever regret. Rodney, for his part, now looked away, eyes wide and a trifle too bright, and Radek gave him a moment.
“People keep telling me,” Rodney said after a few moments and a badly disguised sniffle, “that I’m not supposed to say things like that.”
“Well, people are, for the most part, idiots, as I’m sure you will agree,” Radek said bluntly.
“And people think you’re the ‘nice one’, why?” Rodney demanded indignantly.
“Because they do not know me,” Radek said, grinning with all his teeth. “But you do, and I am very pleased to have it so.”
“I guess… I’m not exactly sorry you know me, either,” Rodney said and Radek found that it was easier to lay an arm over Rodney’s shoulder than not. He did not resist.
“Ah, I see we are now at the point,” he said, “where we will either soon start crying on each other’s shoulders, or we will go and find something to eat before the slivovitz causes us to abandon last shreds of dignity. I recommend applying ourselves to banquet presently being laid on in Athosian settlement. What do you say?”
“I say,” said Rodney with drunken deliberateness, “that if we go back to the central tower we will almost certainly find Sheppard there, looking for us, and I say, that I may even be drunk enough to ride in your idiotic flying machine again.”
“I have never flown in orlub before,” Radek said, eyes wide, “but I too may just be drunk enough. I must first find proper apparel for party, however.”
“Apparel?” Rodney asked, but Radek was already pulling something out from the very bottom of his clothes chest. It was wrapped with care, and Radek unwrapped and unfolded the garment reverently. The white, linen tunic was stiff with embroidery and hand stitched lace, as was the long sash, and Radek laid them both carefully on the bed.
“It is the kroj, our national costume,” Radek said, stripping off his workday shirt. “This is the style from my grandfather’s village; every village had a slightly different style, you see.”
“Ah… huh,” said Rodney, watching him don the garment and tie the sash.
“There is a hat as well, but I did not bring it, as the feather ornament would surely have been crushed,” Radek explained further, as he made the last adjustments and Rodney rolled his eyes. “Now, I am ready for evening of social activities.”
They… swayed more than a little as they headed out into the corridor and down the lift, but kept each other upright and moving forward with arms over each other’s shoulders.
Rodney, unsurprisingly, proved to be correct, in that Sheppard was indeed waiting at the base of the main tower, looking impatient.
“There you are!” he said. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but it looks to me like you boys were off getting an early start on the festivities.”
“It was necessary,” Radek waved him off. “Some important conversations require… lubrication, but now we require nourishment.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely both looking well lubricated,” Sheppard said, though there was an understanding light in his eyes. “And there’s nourishment aplenty ahead, but you’re gonna have to share the passenger seat.”
“Yes, yes,” Rodney waved him off. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before, and I don’t imagine it’s going to be anything like as long as my last trip.”
“Definitely not,” Sheppard said, leading them to the landing where the orlub sat. The day’s sun had departed during the time they’d been drinking in his quarters, and Radek looked back at the city to see how it gleamed with its own light in every tower. Below and to his left the Daedalus sat under the brilliant illumination of Rodney’s large mantle chandelier, and across the sea to his right the Athosian settlement glowed with warm firelight and cool moss lights. A lit mantle lantern sat on the deck beside the resting orlub as well.
“One of you’s gonna have to carry that for the flight,” Sheppard said. “Could be useful to have a lantern hook or something on this bird, if we’re gonna take any more night flights here.”
“Hmm, yes,” Radek said, watching Rodney clamber unsteadily into the passenger compartment. Sheppard watched him too, ready to catch or steady him, if needed, but Rodney managed it without assistance, and then reached a hand down to help Radek.
“At least you weigh a lot less than my sister,” Rodney commented as Radek settled onto Rodney’s lap. Sheppard handed him the lamp once they were both secured, and then vaulted into the pilot’s compartment with practiced ease.
“You guys are gonna have to let me give you the full flying tour, sometime when it’s daylight,” he said, waking the orlub. “It’s really something to see.”
Radek nodded, only listening to Sheppard with half his attention, as the full reality of what he was about to do began to sink in. “Hang on!” Sheppard shouted, and then the orlub was hopping, once, twice, three times… There would be several hops, Radek realized, as they were taking off from a level surface, rather than dropping down from a height, as they would on the return trip. Radek wondered if he could secure a seat on one of the air launches for that trip.
Clutching the lantern in his left hand with all his strength, Radek hung on for dear life with his right as the orlub took one last mighty leap and they were airborne -the orlub’s wings flapping furiously to gain altitude.
“Ježiši Márja!” he cried as the orlub lifted them higher and higher. The darkness was, perhaps, a mercy, as Radek could not really see how far up they were, but then he felt Rodney’s arm come to wrap around his waist, pulling him close and lending a sense of security. Radek found himself relaxing -a bit- against the larger man’s warmth and close presence, and felt a sense of gratitude. Maybe it was just the liquor, but it seemed to Radek now that maybe Rodney was not so socially clueless as everyone said.
Though they had walked arm in arm, in drunken camaraderie, to the central tower, their closeness then had more to do maintaining verticality and steady forward momentum. This closeness now, Radek could not help thinking, seemed to import something more. Might there be affection in Rodney’s one armed embrace? It seemed to Radek that there could be an affection there to match that which Radek had begun to feel for Rodney McKay, and while both these realizations came as a surprise, they might, in the end, not be unwelcome.
It had been easy to eschew love for all time, in the weeks and months that followed Radek’s unhappy realization that he would never see his beloved Nokola again. It hurt too much; it made one vulnerable; it interfered with more ‘important’ work. All of these things had been said before, generally by men and women in situations not unlike Radek’s, but Radek felt them to be undeniably true nonetheless. Then what had begun as a determined preference for solitude became a habit, and then an ingrained habit, are such are wont to become.
Had Weir not seduced him away from the ingrained solitude of his life, he’d be there still, none the wiser and just as content as before, but perhaps the fact that she’d been able to seduce him was an indicator that Radek wasn’t so content as he'd thought. Perhaps, additionally, he’d wanted more than merely a break from his solitude when he’d begun to take an interest in Rodney McKay. Now, Radek reflected, finding the press of his body against Rodney’s quite pleasant indeed, there was also the distinct possibility that his interest in Rodney was more than intellectual.
Radek wasn’t sure, but there seemed a decent chance at least that Rodney might be amenable to the idea, and wasn’t that a lovely possibility to contemplate? Of course, the very idea was also fraught with peril, of the sorts Radek knew all too well, but hadn’t Radek just explained to Rodney why men such as they were not meant for a life free of peril?
As a youth, Radek had flirted with danger, ignorant of the consequences of his actions, and when the inevitable catastrophe had struck, he’d run and hidden. It had taken him these sixteen long years to realize that a different sort of danger awaited him in the ‘safety’ of his solitude, and so he had ventured into the world again, older but wiser. The risks he took now he took with his eyes wide open, and he wasn’t sure why that made a difference, but it did.
Eyes wide open he’d traveled half way round the world and sailed into the very heart of it. Eyes open he flew in a machine of his own devising, winging over a subterranean sea and held safe in the arms of a man whose mind was more than the equal to his own, and whom he might just love. Never in his life had Radek Zelenka taken so many risks, and never had he felt so sure he was doing the right thing.
***
*This is actually the Dolejší Vodárna in central Prague. It was built in 1660 as a water tower to serve homes and city fountains in that area.
Next: To the feasting!
Author: Taylor Dancinghands -taylor@tdancinghands.com
Characters: McKay, Sheppard, Beckett, Zelenka, Weir, Teyla, Ronon, (nun!)Jeannie McKay, Grodin, Lorne, Caldwell, among others.
Pairings: Zelenka/McKay, Sheppard/Lorne past and Sheppard/Lorne/Teyla preslash, Beckett/Weir, Caldwell/Jeannie McKay romance background
Category: slash, pre-slash, Steampunk AU, romance, action/adventure
Spoilers: none
Warnings: m/m relationships (eventually)
Rating: Teen
Summary:In a bygone future that never was, the US Special Projects Bureau's Airship Daedalus carries an expedition into the Hollow Earth to discover the fabled lost city of Atlantis...
(An index for the whole story to-date can be found here.)
Chapter 9, pt 1
In which Sheppard learns to fly something new, and a great celebration leads to a great discovery.
"The desire to fly is an idea handed down to us by our ancestors who, in their grueling travels across trackless lands in prehistoric times, looked enviously on the birds soaring freely through space, at full speed, above all obstacles, on the infinite highway of the air.."
-Orville Wright
"More than anything else the sensation is one of perfect peace mingled with an excitement that strains every nerve to the utmost, if you can conceive of such a combination."
-Wilbur Wright
Gazing at the controls before him, John Sheppard ran over the procedure he'd followed once before, for getting Zelenka's giant, mechanical pigeon off the ground. It was discomfiting to have everything marked in a language which was indecipherable to him, but then he reminded himself that those controls were of no concern for him now. They were, for the most part, only for the pre-programmed functions of the orlub, but he was going to do what no one else had done before, and actually fly the thing himself.
For that, Zelenka had explained to him, he would use the pivoting knob in the center of the console -which controlled the machine's attitude- and a single pedal on the floor -which controlled wing speed. The olub's takeoff and landing functions would still be reprogrammed, however, which meant that the trickiest point would be at the transition. John would have about fifteen seconds to take control of the orlub when the takeoff sequence ended, and then he would be on his own.
Zelenka had been nervous just explaining it to him, and John was plenty nervous now, sitting in the pilot's seat and perched on the Daedalus' quarter deck. Drawing a breath, he remembered how it had felt to be sitting in this very seat, watching the sun rise over the North Atlantic, swooping down to circle above the lighthouse, as free as the other winged creatures who swooped and wheeled about him. The machine had been in control then, but if John was half the pilot everybody said he was, he could have that freedom for himself. All he had to do was take one more leap of faith... in himself.
Gathering his resolve, John set the controls for takeoff and flipped up the toggle that would bring the orlub to life. As before, it shuddered and 'fluffed' itself -making sure all its flight surfaces were in order, Zelenka had explained to him. Then it gathered itself and sprang to the rail, and after only the briefest of pauses, sprang once more, into the air.
The orlub's wings beat furiously at first as it gained altitude, but it did not take long to attain level flight. After only a few seconds John heard the chime that warned that the controls would be released in fifteen seconds. The chime rang three more times -at five second intervals- and at the last, John was ready. He began by immediately pulling back on the knob and pressing down on the pedal, to lift the machine higher and push it faster.
The orlub instantly angled upward steeply, but hardly sped up at all, causing a moment of frightening instability. So, the knob control was tetchy, the pedal not so much. John held the attitude steady, but put more pressure on the pedal, seeing that there was more give there than he'd thought. Now the orlub surged forward and climbed... straight toward the wall of the cavern.
Ever so carefully, John nudged the attitude knob to the left and the orlub banked nicely, veering away from the cavern wall at a comfortable distance. Damn, this was working out great! He tried guiding the craft down toward the surface of the sea now, plotting a serpentine course that had him banking to the left then the right, then the left again, all the way down. He quickly got a feel for the controls, and tried a few sharper swerves, laughing out loud as he felt himself gain mastery of the craft.
He pulled up sharply as he approached the Daedalus, eliciting a surprised shout from the lookout, then banked to the right and set a course for the Athosian settlement. The orlub's copper and brass feathers gleamed as he danced in and out of the directed, afternoon sunbeams, and the fleeting shadows he threw across the settlements had folk pausing in their various tasks to see what had caused it. Shouts and gleeful ululations greeted him as he passed the opening to the Athosians' side cavern and he waved, grinning as he spotted Jinto among those watching.
Now he wheeled to the right, making a slow circle to head back toward Atlantis. He did not take a direct route, naturally, but flew low, passing in front of the lower waterfall closely enough to become moistened by the spray. Then he pulled up to rise above the lake and then above the city, gliding over the outlying piers and then coming in close to circle the central tower. He'd planned to set the craft down on the upper level balcony, but now he found he was loathe to leave off. The freedom was intoxicating, and his skills improved with every minute he remained, so what harm could there be in staying up a little longer?
Waving gleefully to Bates and Parrish, watching him from a lower balcony on the central tower, John carefully nudged the controls to carry him up and away from the city. He circled it once more, from a distance, then soared across the cavern toward the wide tunnel entrance and its surrounding mirror array. As an experienced pilot, John almost certainly should have taken into consideration the possibility of wind, but of course, then was generally very little in the cavern... except for near the tunnel.
It was as he swept past the mirror array above the tunnel entrance that John first began to feel the orlub fight his control, veering closer to the array when he directed the flying machine to bank away. He pressed down on the pedal to increase his speed, and pulled the attitude knob hard to the right, and then he felt the wind, pulling at him and the orlub and drawing them into the tunnel.
Of course, John thought with disgust at his own carelessness, The gale-force down-draft that had swept the Daedalus into the Hollow Earth during the night must naturally be matched by an updraft during the day. John pressed the speed pedal down as far as it would go, feeling the craft bucking the wind currents pulling at it. For several very long seconds John wasn't sure he was going to manage to pull himself out, but then, all at once, the orlub broke free, and John let out an unrestrained whoop of joy.
Now he flew a straight course back to Atlantis, taking only a half circle around the central tower before engaging the landing algorithm. The orlub responded perfectly, coming to perch neatly on the balcony railing and then falling still. John remained where he was for a spell, letting the shakiness of exhilaration and adrenaline pass before he dismounted. Weir and Beckett came running even as his feet came to rest on the terrace floor.
"We, ah, need to tell the expedition meteorologist... what's his name, Scott?" Sheppard said, "that there's a hell of an updraft going into the tunnel during the day. Probably ought to inform all the air launch pilots too."
Weir's eyebrows rose significantly at this information.
“I don’t want to know how you found that out, do I?” she asked.
“No, ma’am, you don’t,” John said. “But now that we do know, all the air launch pilots can be advised. Anyone need a lift anywhere?”
Beckett and Weir exchanged slightly alarmed glanced, and John could see he wasn’t going to get any takers here. “Fine, fine,” he said, crossing the terrace to enter the control room. “Maybe there’s someone in here with a proper sense of adventure. Hey Grodin, wanna take a ride?”
Peter Grodin, who John had spotted watching from inside backed away quickly. “No thank you, Captain,” he said with impeccable politeness. “I’m afraid I’m a bit busy just now.”
John had to admit, the pile of books and journals scattered over the work station where Grodin had clearly been occupied, did seem to confirm his reasoning. He cast his eye over the rest of the control room, hoping to find some willing passenger -as John actually did want to see how the orlub handled with the additional weight. His eye fell on the Parrish, the botanist, scribbling away in a notebook, but before John could come up with a strategy for enticing him, he saw that someone was coming up on one of the lifts.
It was McKay and Zelenka, of course, and the Czech was practically bouncing as he mounted the steps up to the control room.
“Captain Sheppard!” he cried. “I only saw for a moment, but I could see she was flying perfectly! How long was your flight? How well did the controls work? Is it too difficult?”
“Definitely not too difficult,” Sheppard said, letting real pleasure show in his smile. “It’s like a dream come true, Doc. Took me a few minutes to get used to how everything worked, and I still haven’t flown it with a passenger, but I’d call it pretty damn near an unqualified success.”
“Výborně!” Zelenka cried, clearly ecstatic. “For so long I had despaired that I would find anyone who wished to take the risk. You have made me very happy man today, Captain Sheppard.”
“All I can say, Doc, is that the pleasure is mutual,” John said, beaming.
“Okay, I’ll tell you what,” John heard Dr Weir say now as she reentered the control room. “I could use a lift over to the Athosian settlement, but I’ve got a box of books for Dr Corrigan too. Will I be able to take them, or should I send them with the launch on their next run?”
“Aha,” Zelenka said, raising a finger. “There is small cargo compartment on orlub. Here, I will show you.”
Elizabeth went and got Corrigan’s books and when Zelenka showed them where the cargo compartment was, they found it just big enough to fit them all.
“Perfect,” Sheppard said, latching the compartment door. “Like a hand up, Dr Weir?” She took John’s hand as he guided her foot into the step and then steadied her has she climbed into the passenger compartment. Beckett stood off to the side looking worried.
“Are you sure you want to do this, lass?” he asked. Dr Weir smiled reassuringly.
“I have complete confidence in both Dr Zelenka’s engineering and Captain Sheppard’s piloting,” she said without hesitation. John and Zelenka both thanked her.
“Oh wonderful,” McKay groused. “Now both their heads will be impossibly swollen, and I still have to work with this one!” He cast a disgruntled glance at Zelenka.
“I’m sure you’ll manage,” Dr Weir said as John fastened his own safety harness and then saw to Dr Weir’s.
“You ready ma’am?” John asked as he brought the orlub to life.
“As I’ll ever be,” Dr Weir replied gamely.
“Here we go then,” Sheppard said. “Hang on! First step’s a doozey!”
Then with a leap and a swoop, they were airborne again, and John felt his own heart soar with joy.
***
Watching his orlub come to life in the hands of a skilled pilot made Radek Zelenka as happy as he’d ever been in his life, more or less. The smile stayed on his face for the whole rest of the day, and made his various tasks seem like the most pleasant work he’d ever done. The smile was probably the reason McKay kept looking at him like that. He probably thought that Radek was a loon, but Radek had been thought a loon before, and had learned not to mind.
They’d gotten all the lab equipment hauled in after lunch, and the Marines had done most of the lifting and carrying, but now the work was in setting up the various labs and work areas, and assembling equipment. All the scientists had arrived on Atlantis now, even Kavanagh, and each discipline had claimed their own area. There’d been a bit of squabbling about that initially, but then McKay had told them, with the wisdom of Solomon, that they could either settle their own disputes or he would arbitrarily assign labs. It was something to see, how quickly interdisciplinary discourse became the very model of harmonious concordance. Radek was beginning to understand and appreciate McKay’s management style.
The lab they’d chosen had a nice big window with a small balcony, and Zelenka paused as he worked from time to time, to take in the remarkable view of the vast subterranean sea and cavern outside. Occasionally he saw Sheppard flying past in the orlub, and it did seem that he had gotten a few more willing passengers, including the Athosian boy, Jinto. No doubt he thought himself the luckiest boy in the Earth… and possibly on it as well, Radek reflected, and he had good reason to think so.
Radek’s own childhood hadn’t exactly been trouble free. They’d been poor, lost their house to fire when Radek was ten, and he’d lost his younger brother in a flood two years later. His land had been torn by war, and ruled by cruel oppressors, but none of it could compare to what these people endured daily, and had endured for generations.
Still, Radek felt a certain fellowship with the folk of the Realms Below for neither his people nor theirs had allowed their hardships and oppressors to defeat them. They knew, as he did, that every day can bring reason for celebration, and that holding on to joy and the pleasures of life were important, even -or especially- in the darkest of times. The Athosians had good reason to celebrate today, however, as did the expedition members. Yes, they would also be celebrating the memories of five fellow members who had ‘given their all’, but celebrate they would. Grieving, Radek knew, found its own time, and came when it would, but joy must be cultivated and nurtured, and so they would do this evening.
Radek was looking forward to it, but it was clear that McKay was not. Radek suspected that it was not grief that had the scientist in its grip, but the horror of his failure, and this too was something Radek had experience with. If he thought on it, Radek could still feel his younger brother’s smaller hand in his -small, cold fingers twined desperately with his own- and he could feel them pulled away inexorably by the monstrous strength of the river which had overtaken them so suddenly.
All the strength of a boy of twelve summers could not have possibly been a match for it, but in his heart Radek still found himself wanting. The responsibility for holding on to his little brother had been his, and he had failed. Scientists are supposed to be accustomed to failure, of course. Failure should be a close companion, as it was said to be the greatest of teachers, and Radek did not disagree, but there were degrees of failure, and a responsible scientist strives to mitigate the impact of his failures… when he can.
Scientists, at the end of the day, are only men, after all, and could no more be masters of their destiny than any other man. Radek had not believed in the doctrines of any Faith for some time, but he knew full well that there are forces that come to play in a man’s life over which he can have no control. Flooding rivers and invading armies were forces of this sort, with which Radek had come to have some familiarity. He thought that possibly McKay had not had so many such experiences.
The slightly desperate attitude with which McKay had approached all his tasks today suggested to Radek that his colleague was using them as a refuge, but there were limits to this approach, no matter how productive it made McKay in the short term. As a boy, Radek had found refuge in his parents’ forgiveness, and their obvious gratitude that at least two of their three children had survived, but Radek didn’t think that there was anyone here for McKay -not here and possibly not anywhere else either.
Of course, there was his sister (who’d elected to stay on the Daedalus with Novak, for now), but they were essentially estranged, and her faith remained a sore point between them. McKay would definitely not seek solace there. Radek knew that there were, in fact, a number of people who actually cared about Rodney McKay as a person, including Weir, Beckett and Sheppard, but McKay was so used to keeping people at a distance, he didn’t see their regard for him, and would be uncomfortable revealing himself before them. McKay clung to his dignity like a drowning man to a plank, and Radek didn’t think that the others understood that so well, for all that they cared for him.
Radek understood, however. He understood McKay’s need for dignity, and his horror at his apparent failure. Radek understood how one can desperately need forgiveness and fear it like fire in the same breath, and he understood how strong McKay was, and how fragile at the same time. Radek saw clearly how the man perceived only his frailty at the moment, and loathed it, but Radek thought that maybe sharing his own, very secret frailty with the man might provide some comfort, and lead him to beginning to forgive himself.
Glancing toward the window again, Radek saw one of the air launches lifting away from the city and carrying a full load of passengers -no doubt headed towards the Athosian settlement were festivities would begin soon. He set down his tools and stood to stretch, combing his fingers through his hair and shaking himself.
“I am ready for a break,” he announced. “And so are you. Also someone will come soon to take us to the Athosian celebration, and if you are here you will end up having to go.”
That got McKay’s attention, and he turned to gaze directly at Radek, brows furrowed. “What… what about you?” he finally said. “Don’t you want to go?”
Radek shrugged. “Very likely the food will be good, if unfamiliar,” he said, “and someone told me that they claim to have a beverage worthy of being called beer. But I think you do not want to go and I think… that you should not be alone.”
“I don’t need a baby sitter,” McKay scowled, crossing his arms.
“No,” Radek said, “but I think perhaps you could use a friend, ne?”
Radek watched the emotions move through McKay’s expressive eyes; first stubbornness, then confusion, deepening to despairing bewilderment. His shoulders slowly slumped and his crossed arms went from being aggressive to protective. “Why?” he asked at last. “Why would you do that? I mean, you’re nearly as smart as I am… You don’t need me…”
So it was as bad as that? Radek’s heart hurt, but he smiled all the same, letting his sadness show. “Perhaps,” Radek said, “I am just smart enough to appreciate you. Come.” He held out his hand, pulling McKay up from his work station and urging him toward the stairs.
“For now what we need may be found in my quarters,” he said. “I even have glasses, so we need not drink from the bottle.”
“Genius level thinking, Zelenka,” McKay said with profound relief. “Positively inspired.”
Seeking to avoid being corralled into going to the Athosian celebration, the two scientists darted surreptitiously from corridor to corridor until they got to the residential tower. By the time they ducked into Radek’s rooms they were a bit giddy, like two school boys hiding from the headmaster. Shortly, Radek found what he was looking for in his ‘sea chest’ and had opened the small, carved oak box with the cut crystal decanter inside, along with two shot glasses, decorated with painted plums.
He poured a healthy shot in each as McKay sat next to him on the bed (the only real seating in the room), then lifted his glass. “Na zdravi!” Radek toasted when McKay had his glass in hand. They both knocked back their measure of the clear liquor, and Radek smiled to feel its warmth course through him.
“Wow!” said McKay, wheezing a bit. “I mean, it’s smooth, but, ah…”
“Eighty proof,” Radek said, flashing a grin. “My housekeeper makes it, from plums.”
“Plums?” McKay said dubiously, examining the picture on the glass as Radek refilled it.
“We grow a lot of them,” Radek explained, tossing back his second shot.
“Well, here’s to plums,” McKay said, following Radek’s example once again and shuddering in the wake of the liquor’s fire. Already Radek could feel the slivovitz’s relaxing mellow, and might have left off at two shots, but McKay was going to need at least one more to break the hold of the miserable malaise which had seized him, and so he poured one more round. McKay peered at the refilled glass, and at Radek suspiciously.
“You’re not trying to make yourself smarter than me by knocking off my brain cells, are you?” he asked, even as he lifted his glass.
“Effects are temporary, I promise,” Radek said. “And also, am subjecting own brain cells to same abuse, as you can see.” Radek sipped at his own liquor now, savoring the taste a bit as he had not before. With an air of resignation, McKay swallowed his down in one desperate gulp and set his glass down on the packing crate they were using as a table just a bit forcefully.
“God,” he said, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. “I might actually be willing to sacrifice a few of them, if only someone would promise me that I would never see that poor bastard on fire again. He’s there every time I close my eyes, every time I try to sleep, the minute I don’t have something urgent to focus on… I can’t stand it anymore and I can’t function like this…”
It was pure human instinct that lead Radek to place a gentle hand on McKay’s shoulder, and it made his heart ache to feel the man tremble at the touch. “I speak from experience,” he said, feeling the ghost of his little brother’s hand slip out of his once more, “when I say to you that it will fade, but also… not all scars are to found on one’s skin.”
“Great,” McKay said, not lifting his head. “I have scars in my brain now.”
“Neither you nor I were meant to have an ordinary life, McKay,” Radek said. “There will inevitably be scars… and deeper wounds as well, but you may be surprised to learn how one can go on to live life, and live well, when the choice is that or giving in to despair.”
“I killed a man, Zelenka,” Mckay said at last, raising his head to meet Radek’s gaze, though there was no hope in his clear blue eyes. “Out of arrogance and foolhardiness… and he died horribly. I can’t take it back; I can’t make it not happen. It’s never going to go away for as long as I live.”
“Radek,” Radek said softly. “You should call me Radek, I think, and I will confess to you that I was the main victim of my own arrogance… but the consequences will be with me for the rest of my life as well.” He lifted his hand away from McKay’s shoulder, tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and began to unbutton his shirt.
“What are you talking about?” McKay asked, frowning, despair still coloring his voice. “You already showed me your ‘noble scars’.”
“Noble?” Radek snorted bitterly. “There is nothing noble in how I got these. They are badges of my arrogance, nothing more, and what you saw…” Radek finished unbuttoning his shirt and then reached down to lift his under-vest, revealing the impossibility which lay beneath. “What you saw is the least of what I bought myself that day.”
McKays eyes widened, predictably, as he took in the apparatus Radek wore beneath his shirt. It was the harness which most people noticed at first, though these days Radek hardly noticed it at all -he’d worn the soft, supple leather next to his skin for so long now. McKay’s eyes, however, went right to the heart -literally- of the matter, as would any technician.
Through the brass bound, round crystal window seated in his chest, McKay would be seeing the clockwork motion of the piston mechanism which did not replace Radek’s heart, but supported it. For sixteen years it had kept Radek Zelenka alive, but only two people in the world knew about it. Rodney McKay would be the third.
Not unreasonably, McKay sat speechless for several long seconds. “Oh my God…” he said at last. “What… what happened? Are you… okay? Should you even be on this expedition?”
“I am as fit as you, McKay -probably fitter,” Radek scowled, lowering his shirt again. “And have been all the time I have worn this apparatus. As for what happened… it is a tale I would share with you, but it is not a short one.”
“Of course it isn’t,” McKay said with resignation. “But you’ve got me going now so you might as well pour me another drink and get on with it.”
Radek did as requested, pouring another for himself as well. Perhaps it would make revisiting those painful events less so, Radek thought, but did not really hope.
“Tak,” he said. “I was with Tesla in those days. We had taken over the old city water tower in Praha and turned it into our residence and workshop -the first electrical engineering firm in central Europe. We were going to electrify Prague -make it a real city of lights, brighter than Paris. We were so full of dreams in those days.”
“When was this?” McKay asked.
“Eighteen sixty-eight,” Radek answered. “Nikola was still five years away from alternating current, but we knew it must be and to us that seemed like tomorrow. We made plans for a water driven generation plant on the Vltava and designed electrical devices for the Empire’s elites. Neither one of us was interested in war machines, and we didn’t mind letting the world know. We thought we could bend the world to our design and we feared nothing and no one.”
“That would be the pride that goeth before…” McKay prompted.
“The fall, yes,” Radek said. “We ignored the first missive from the Prussian King. When he sent an emissary, offering us both princely sums if we would come to work for him, we were altogether rude to him, and when he sent another, we would not let him in and dropped rubbish and rotten vegetables on him from an upper window. We laughed ourselves dizzy. We thought nothing of it at all.”
“Why would you,” Mckay commented quietly, knowing, more or less, what must come next.”
“It was early February, in the dead of winter, in the dead of night,” Radek continued. “They used a small charge of gun powder to break down the door, and then they placed a five man guard at the door and locked the servants in the coal cellar. They captured Nikola and I and took us to our machine shop, and explained that we would sign a contract agreeing to work for Wilhelm of Prussia and swearing fealty to him, or we would be tortured to death.”
“And you didn’t sign?” McKay asked. “Why didn’t you just sign and then cut and run, later?”
“Because the contract was essentially a formality,” Radek explained. “We were being told to sign away our freedom, and we knew that we would not be given any chance to ‘cut and run’, as you say, once we had signed. Also… we were young and in love… and entirely devoted to our ideals. The idea of death did not frighten us… and we did not yet know what it was to suffer -not really.”
“What… what did they do?” asked McKay.
“They used an electric probe… meant to carry current from the network of batteries and capacitors in the building to the various devices Nikola and I were working on,” Radek replied, seeing McKay wince. “They decided to use it on me and make Nikola watch -I have no idea why they chose him to watch and not I- and eventually they figured out how to increase the current.” Radek fell silent then, the memory of the agonies he’d endured still fairly vivid.
“They… they could have killed you,” McKay said, voice quiet with horror.
“They could have,” Radek confirmed. “Though if they had their own lives might well have been forfeit. They had no idea what they were meddling with, and in the end their lives were forfeit anyhow. They shocked and burned me with electricity until the household batteries and capacitors were exhausted, which they did not realize would cause certain automatic defense mechanisms to be activated -including sending all twenty orluby into active mode, and running their defensive algorithm.”
“’Defensive algorithm’?” McKay inquired.
“They attack anything that moves,” Radek answered. “With razor sharp primaries, beak and claws. Eleven men had their throats or wrists cut and bled to death. The rest ran away. Fortunately my housekeepers -Josef and Hanka, who serve me still- knew of the various defensive measures and waited until the birds’ program had run their course, then they freed themselves from the coal cellar and came upstairs to free us. But it was too late for me by then… or under normal circumstanced it would have been. The repeated electric shocks had damaged and weakened my heart, and I felt sure I had only days -or perhaps only hours- to live.”
“But…” McKay said after a shocked pause. “You didn’t give up, you built this.” He gestured to the device Radek had just revealed to him. Radek shook his head sadly.
“It was not I, but Nikola who built this, and saved my live.” Radek said. “I have never known anyone whose belief in themselves so bordered on the pathological, but he was determined not to lose me. I, on the other hand…” Radek sighed. “I was so horrified by my foolishness, my profound arrogance and miscalculation about what powerful men would do to be able to control my works and my brilliance… I was not sure I wanted to live at all. All I saw in my future was that I would either be some other man’s pawn, or spend my whole life in hiding.”
“Which is… more or less what you did,” McKay commented.
Radek and Nikola's tower, in Prague*
“Yes, after Nikola left,” Radek replied. “We’d begun to make a fortress of our tower in Prague when Nikola’s mother died, and he went back to Serbo-Croatia to settle her affairs. When he tried to return he was stopped from reentering Bohemia, on orders of King Wilhelm of Prussia. We had used our influence, in the wake of the attack on our home, to secure the Emperor’s protection within the borders of the Empire, but it now became clear that we had not secured our own freedom.”
“Then that’s… why you’re not together anymore?” McKay asked. “I mean… I’d always assumed that you’d had a falling out or something.”
“Oh we did, after a fashion,” Radek said. “But I suppose it was inevitable after that. We dared not even speak freely in our letters, as we knew our correspondence would not be private from Wilhelm’s spies. I knew that Nikola wanted me to find some way to escape to England, where we would be outside of Prussia’s reach, but it would have been terribly dangerous for me once I left the territories of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I wanted him to find a way back into the Empire, to come back to me in Prague, but even though I dared not suggest this in any letter, I knew he would never consent.”
“Why not?” McKay asked, which Radek thought was sweet of him.
“Nikola had already sacrificed his own home, long ago,” Radek replied. “He had done so for the sake of his career, for he could not bear to be constrained, to be prevented from going wherever he needed to in order to advance his work, and human knowledge. Returning to Prague, for him, meant being trapped, and he was not wrong. London and New York had far more to offer him, and thus allowed him to offer more to the world. I know he loved me, and I loved him, but in the end we both loved our work more.”
“Yeah…” McKay said sadly. “I don’t know what I would have done, I guess… not that there’s ever been anyone in my life that I might considered risking my scientific work for… besides my sister, I mean. And with family… well it isn’t really an option, is it?”
“Not everyone would say so,” Radek said softly, moved by the man’s nearly thoughtless devotion. “But McKay… have you truly never had anyone take a place in your heart, no one for whom you might have been tempted to give up everything?” McKay’s short answering laugh had a bitter edge to it.
“After four drinks,” he said, “and you want me to call you Radek; you’d better just call me Rodney, don’t you think?”
“Máš pravdu,” Radek said, pouring a fifth round. “You’re right, Rodney.”
McKay… Rodney, sipped at his fresh drink now and shuddered. “And to answer your question, no,” he said. “There was one person at the SPB, who I thought for a little while… but that turned into a hideous fiasco. So no, no one -no loves in my life, great or small. They say it’s supposedly better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but honestly, I’m just as glad to have been spared the drama.”
Radek nodded sagely. “It may be that you are wise,” he said, “and that those who say such things are only trying to console themselves. I know that I consigned myself to a life alone, after I realized that Nikola and I would likely never see one another again, and thought that it might be for the best, if I was to make the most of the rest of my life. I renounced my fame and society connections and left Prague to live the life of a very comfortable hermit, as if I could renounce the whole world.”
“Well, you wouldn’t be the first person who tried,” Rodney said kindly. “I’m… glad you finally gave it up… being a hermit, I mean.”
Radek felt a new warmth, superior to and supplanting that of the liquor. “I am glad to hear you say so,” he said with a smile, lit by the warmth he felt. “You are, in large part, responsible for the fact that I did, you know.”
“I am?” Rodney sounded genuinely shocked.
“It was a ‘flaw’ if you will, of my own character that I soon found that while I wanted the world to have no concerns with me, I could not bring myself not to concern myself with the world. I declared that I would no longer publish, but could not imagine abandoning my various journal subscriptions, nor even give up reading the newspapers, which I had delivered from Paris and Berlin, as well as Prague. For some years I managed to content myself with this, but your work provoked me beyond all endurance, Rodney.”
“I’m told I have a gift for provocation,” Rodney said with a smirk. Radek rolled his eyes.
“Yes, well, of course your published work was brilliant, and miles beyond what everyone else was doing,” Radek acknowledged, “but it was sloppy, and undisciplined. I could not bring myself to stay silent any longer.”
“Sloppy!” Rodney retorted indignantly. “I’ll tell you what’s sloppy! Your mathematical proofs -that’s what’s sloppy, and full of mistakes to boot!”
“Mistakes?” Radek fired back, slamming his glass down. “You want to talk about mistakes? Let us examine your plans for electrical distribution network in New York! It had more mistakes than a stack of freshman math exams!”
“That was Edison’s fault! Not mine!” Rodney declared. “I am never, ever working for that rat bastard again. The design constraints he made me work under… What are you laughing at?”
Radek was laughing, though he’d started as he looked back on his own words. This was just how their indirect correspondence had begun, so many years ago, and he could not help laughing at himself and Rodney, at both of them together, falling back on their most childish behavior.
“We…” he began, “we are such a pair of old fools. Just listen to us!”
Rodney snorted slightly and ducked his head, trying, ineffectually, to hide his slowly growing grin. “Speak for yourself,” he said, without heat. “Your letters and articles… they were pretty much the highlight of my month. Even when you were poking holes in my theories, the fact that you actually understood them… it meant a lot to me.”
Radek nodded, feeling a flush of that non-alcohol related warmth again. “Your responses to my writings… our debates by way of scientific journals… it made me feel alive again,” he said. “As if I were some hibernating creature, coming awake in the spring. And this is the thing I wish you to take from my tale; we two, we have in common a very lively mind. It is inevitable that we will make mistakes, even terrible ones, but we must never be afraid to do so. The only thing we must truly fear, Rodney, is giving up.”
“But I can’t just… just go marching on ahead as though nothing happened,” Rodney said. “A man died because of me, of my mistake…”
“No,” Radek cut him off. “A man died because you and he were being attacked by terrifying creatures of unspeakable evil. He died because they would just as soon have killed all of you, but because of you and your invention they were unable to come near you until they had smashed your invention with a rock. It was merest chance that it was he and not you who was thus stricken, and while I am very sorry for Airman Collins and his family, I am not one tiny bit sorry that it is you standing here today and not him.”
Liquor had done away with the better part of Radek’s discretion, but these were not words he would ever regret. Rodney, for his part, now looked away, eyes wide and a trifle too bright, and Radek gave him a moment.
“People keep telling me,” Rodney said after a few moments and a badly disguised sniffle, “that I’m not supposed to say things like that.”
“Well, people are, for the most part, idiots, as I’m sure you will agree,” Radek said bluntly.
“And people think you’re the ‘nice one’, why?” Rodney demanded indignantly.
“Because they do not know me,” Radek said, grinning with all his teeth. “But you do, and I am very pleased to have it so.”
“I guess… I’m not exactly sorry you know me, either,” Rodney said and Radek found that it was easier to lay an arm over Rodney’s shoulder than not. He did not resist.
“Ah, I see we are now at the point,” he said, “where we will either soon start crying on each other’s shoulders, or we will go and find something to eat before the slivovitz causes us to abandon last shreds of dignity. I recommend applying ourselves to banquet presently being laid on in Athosian settlement. What do you say?”
“I say,” said Rodney with drunken deliberateness, “that if we go back to the central tower we will almost certainly find Sheppard there, looking for us, and I say, that I may even be drunk enough to ride in your idiotic flying machine again.”
“I have never flown in orlub before,” Radek said, eyes wide, “but I too may just be drunk enough. I must first find proper apparel for party, however.”
“Apparel?” Rodney asked, but Radek was already pulling something out from the very bottom of his clothes chest. It was wrapped with care, and Radek unwrapped and unfolded the garment reverently. The white, linen tunic was stiff with embroidery and hand stitched lace, as was the long sash, and Radek laid them both carefully on the bed.
“It is the kroj, our national costume,” Radek said, stripping off his workday shirt. “This is the style from my grandfather’s village; every village had a slightly different style, you see.”
“Ah… huh,” said Rodney, watching him don the garment and tie the sash.
“There is a hat as well, but I did not bring it, as the feather ornament would surely have been crushed,” Radek explained further, as he made the last adjustments and Rodney rolled his eyes. “Now, I am ready for evening of social activities.”
They… swayed more than a little as they headed out into the corridor and down the lift, but kept each other upright and moving forward with arms over each other’s shoulders.
Rodney, unsurprisingly, proved to be correct, in that Sheppard was indeed waiting at the base of the main tower, looking impatient.
“There you are!” he said. “I’d ask what you’ve been up to, but it looks to me like you boys were off getting an early start on the festivities.”
“It was necessary,” Radek waved him off. “Some important conversations require… lubrication, but now we require nourishment.”
“Yeah, you’re definitely both looking well lubricated,” Sheppard said, though there was an understanding light in his eyes. “And there’s nourishment aplenty ahead, but you’re gonna have to share the passenger seat.”
“Yes, yes,” Rodney waved him off. “It’s not like I haven’t done it before, and I don’t imagine it’s going to be anything like as long as my last trip.”
“Definitely not,” Sheppard said, leading them to the landing where the orlub sat. The day’s sun had departed during the time they’d been drinking in his quarters, and Radek looked back at the city to see how it gleamed with its own light in every tower. Below and to his left the Daedalus sat under the brilliant illumination of Rodney’s large mantle chandelier, and across the sea to his right the Athosian settlement glowed with warm firelight and cool moss lights. A lit mantle lantern sat on the deck beside the resting orlub as well.
“One of you’s gonna have to carry that for the flight,” Sheppard said. “Could be useful to have a lantern hook or something on this bird, if we’re gonna take any more night flights here.”
“Hmm, yes,” Radek said, watching Rodney clamber unsteadily into the passenger compartment. Sheppard watched him too, ready to catch or steady him, if needed, but Rodney managed it without assistance, and then reached a hand down to help Radek.
“At least you weigh a lot less than my sister,” Rodney commented as Radek settled onto Rodney’s lap. Sheppard handed him the lamp once they were both secured, and then vaulted into the pilot’s compartment with practiced ease.
“You guys are gonna have to let me give you the full flying tour, sometime when it’s daylight,” he said, waking the orlub. “It’s really something to see.”
Radek nodded, only listening to Sheppard with half his attention, as the full reality of what he was about to do began to sink in. “Hang on!” Sheppard shouted, and then the orlub was hopping, once, twice, three times… There would be several hops, Radek realized, as they were taking off from a level surface, rather than dropping down from a height, as they would on the return trip. Radek wondered if he could secure a seat on one of the air launches for that trip.
Clutching the lantern in his left hand with all his strength, Radek hung on for dear life with his right as the orlub took one last mighty leap and they were airborne -the orlub’s wings flapping furiously to gain altitude.
“Ježiši Márja!” he cried as the orlub lifted them higher and higher. The darkness was, perhaps, a mercy, as Radek could not really see how far up they were, but then he felt Rodney’s arm come to wrap around his waist, pulling him close and lending a sense of security. Radek found himself relaxing -a bit- against the larger man’s warmth and close presence, and felt a sense of gratitude. Maybe it was just the liquor, but it seemed to Radek now that maybe Rodney was not so socially clueless as everyone said.
Though they had walked arm in arm, in drunken camaraderie, to the central tower, their closeness then had more to do maintaining verticality and steady forward momentum. This closeness now, Radek could not help thinking, seemed to import something more. Might there be affection in Rodney’s one armed embrace? It seemed to Radek that there could be an affection there to match that which Radek had begun to feel for Rodney McKay, and while both these realizations came as a surprise, they might, in the end, not be unwelcome.
It had been easy to eschew love for all time, in the weeks and months that followed Radek’s unhappy realization that he would never see his beloved Nokola again. It hurt too much; it made one vulnerable; it interfered with more ‘important’ work. All of these things had been said before, generally by men and women in situations not unlike Radek’s, but Radek felt them to be undeniably true nonetheless. Then what had begun as a determined preference for solitude became a habit, and then an ingrained habit, are such are wont to become.
Had Weir not seduced him away from the ingrained solitude of his life, he’d be there still, none the wiser and just as content as before, but perhaps the fact that she’d been able to seduce him was an indicator that Radek wasn’t so content as he'd thought. Perhaps, additionally, he’d wanted more than merely a break from his solitude when he’d begun to take an interest in Rodney McKay. Now, Radek reflected, finding the press of his body against Rodney’s quite pleasant indeed, there was also the distinct possibility that his interest in Rodney was more than intellectual.
Radek wasn’t sure, but there seemed a decent chance at least that Rodney might be amenable to the idea, and wasn’t that a lovely possibility to contemplate? Of course, the very idea was also fraught with peril, of the sorts Radek knew all too well, but hadn’t Radek just explained to Rodney why men such as they were not meant for a life free of peril?
As a youth, Radek had flirted with danger, ignorant of the consequences of his actions, and when the inevitable catastrophe had struck, he’d run and hidden. It had taken him these sixteen long years to realize that a different sort of danger awaited him in the ‘safety’ of his solitude, and so he had ventured into the world again, older but wiser. The risks he took now he took with his eyes wide open, and he wasn’t sure why that made a difference, but it did.
Eyes wide open he’d traveled half way round the world and sailed into the very heart of it. Eyes open he flew in a machine of his own devising, winging over a subterranean sea and held safe in the arms of a man whose mind was more than the equal to his own, and whom he might just love. Never in his life had Radek Zelenka taken so many risks, and never had he felt so sure he was doing the right thing.
***
*This is actually the Dolejší Vodárna in central Prague. It was built in 1660 as a water tower to serve homes and city fountains in that area.
Next: To the feasting!