[Stargate: Fiction] "The Codex of Atlantis" [John/Rodney, G]
Title: The Codex of Atlantis
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: G
Word Count: 8,847
Prompt: romancingmcshep 2020
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: The Mummy AU - Rodney and John accidentally release the evil queen buried in the ancient City of Atlantis
The Codex of Atlantis
Lanteus, King of Egypt, scowled in disappointment at the prisoner brought before his throne. “How could you do this?” he demanded.
The High Priestess stood tall, despite her torn and dirty robes. “I did as you asked, my pharaoh.”
“As I asked? I asked you to safeguard our people from this plague. To appease the gods and deliver us from this evil. Instead, you have twisted your power to prey on those you should have protected.”
“And I have created that safeguard,” she said. “My acolytes and I are now immune to the plague.”
“But at what cost?” Lanteus took a step toward her, voice pleading. “Sister, what have you become? To take the lives of others, to drain their spirit this way… it is against all that we believe.”
“All that you believe,” the High Priestess snapped. “Your birthright made you king of Egypt, but you are not fit to lead. This plague is a punishment from the gods, a punishment I can deliver our people from.”
“By turning them into monsters like you?” he said. “No. I won’t allow it.”
“How will you stop me, dear brother? Kill me?”
Lanteus shook his head, sadly. “No,” he repeated. “For the crimes you have committed, there can only be one sentence.”
“What?” she said, sounding unsure for the first time. “Brother, that has never been done!”
“Never has it been needed,” he said. “Guards!”
The High Priestess straightened again, hate in her eyes. “Do not think this will be the last of me! I will have my revenge, brother, even if it takes a thousand years!”
*
“Fall back!”
Even as he gave the order, Major John Sheppard knew it was a lost cause. The enemy were clearly natives, at least thirty men on sure-footed desert horses, more than a match for the dozen weary men of John’s Foreign Legion regiment.
He fired another shot, then dropped behind the ruins of a wall, reloading his rifle automatically as he looked for his men. Only a few made it to his position, but he was relieved that Lieutenant Aidan Ford was one of them.
They rose in unison to fire again, then retreated to the next wall. That proved to be no better cover than the first.
“What do we do, sir?” Ford asked.
Thundering hooves from behind them made both men whirl, rifles at the ready, but it was only their commanding officer.
“Fall back!” roared Colonel Sumner.
The enemy pursued as they retreated, and Sumner covered their rear, his sword flashing in the sun. Even fewer of their men reached the shelter of the ruins, but that meant they were even more outnumbered. John fired again and again, until he failed to find a fresh cartridge in his bandolier.
“I’m out, too,” said Ford.
“Fall back!” Sumner shouted again, but panic had taken over - only the three of them reached the center of the ruins, scatterings of head-high walls and toppled statuary. The colonel slowed his horse to a walk, but the animal was clearly spooked.
John knew exactly how it felt. The ruins were eerily silent, sand shifting in ways that shouldn’t have been possible with the way the wind was blowing.
“Sir…” he began, without any real idea of what he was going to say.
Sumner’s horse suddenly reared, dumping its rider into the sand, and the colonel swore loudly. Sand swirled around them, leading to the half-buried statue. It concentrated around Sumner, coalescing into the form of the woman from the statue. She was beautiful, but something seemed to flicker about her as John looked, something dark and ugly.
“Ma’am?” ventured Sumner.
The woman didn’t speak. She walked toward him, hand held out. All three men stood motionless as she approached. Her hand rested gently against the fabric of the colonel’s uniform - then he started to scream.
Ford started forward, but John grabbed his arm. “Wait, don’t touch them.”
Sumner sank to his knees in the sand. The skin of his face and hands rippled, then began to age. His hair, already gray, turned white and withered. He let out a strangled cry then toppled onto the ground, dry as a mummy.
The woman turned, hand still raised, and John backed quickly away.
“The colonel…” began Ford.
“He’s gone,” John said. “Come on.”
The woman followed, unhurried as they stumbled through the ruins. John caught himself on a the base of another statue, his boot knocking something half-buried in the sand. It was an octagonal box and he stuffed it into his pocket.
“Major!”
He turned - Ford had turned left when he’d gone right, and the woman had followed him.
“Hey!” John called, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him.
Her hand collided with Ford’s chest and the major ignored his own earlier orders, grabbing Ford’s shoulder and wrenching him away. The lieutenant looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Ford?”
“He is mine,” said the woman, her voice echoing in a way no human voice should. “As you will be.”
“Go to hell,” John snapped. He shifted his grip on Ford’s arm, but the other man pulled away. “Ford, come on!”
“I am hers,” he said, deadpan.
“Lieutenant, that’s an order,” said John.
Ford didn’t move. “Join us, major.”
He reached out, and John scrambled back. “Ford, snap out of it.”
“This is where I belong, sir.”
“Ford…”
The woman came up beside him, hand outstretched. John threw one last look at Ford, then raced from the ruins.
On a cliff high above, a woman stood, face hidden beneath the hood of her cloak.
“Should we kill him, Teyla?” asked the man beside her.
She shook her head. “There is no need, Halling. If he is not one of hers, the desert will claim him.”
They both watched the lone figure disappear across the sand.
*
“I really am sorry, Dr. McKay,” said Mr. Woolsey, not sounding remotely sorry. “But the Bainbridge Scholars simply cannot accept any new members at this time.”
Rodney McKay scowled. “That idiot Kavanagh is being considered.”
“Which is why we are not accepting new applications,” said the Director of the Cairo museum, smoothly. He paused for a moment, then continued, “Dr. McKay, your parents were some of our most generous patrons, so allow me to be honest with you.”
“A refreshing change,” Rodney muttered.
Woolsey tactfully ignored him. “There is more to the world of Egyptology than just digging things up from the sand. Dr. Kavanagh may not have made any major discoveries, but he does contribute enough to keep his name known, and he takes the time to make contacts, both with the locals in Egypt and with the kind of people who can finance these digs. You, Dr. McKay, haven’t published so much as a word in three years.”
“Just because I don’t stop to pick up every pottery shard and sweet talk every rich society flunky-”
“And that is why you are not being considered by the Scholars.” Woolsey sighed. “If only you would concentrate on more accepted areas of study, instead of chasing after rumors and fairy tales…”
“Atlantis is real,” said Rodney.
Woolsey’s smile was pitying. “The Scholars will be accepting applications again next year, Dr. McKay. I suggest you use that time to find a more suitable proposal for an expedition. Good day.”
McKay scowled and stalked out of his office into the main museum.
He was muttering under his breath, too lost in his anger to see the shadow that moved from behind a large display, “I take it your meeting didn’t go well?”
“Jeannie!” he gasped.
His sister grinned. “Hello, Mer.”
He scowled again. “I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow,” Rodney said, and continued walking.
She hurried to follow him, tossing a tarnished silver something between her hands. “Ah, yes, well, I had a bit of a… disagreement with some of my traveling companions.”
“You mean, you cheated them all at cards and they found out.”
“It’s not my fault I can count so well,” Jeannie said, innocently. “But, I brought you a present.”
She held out the object, and Rodney took it. It was octagonal, about the size of his palm. Indentations on one side made it seem like it would open, but he couldn’t figure out how.
“Where did you get it?”
“I won it in a card game, from a charming fellow who claimed he’d seen Atlantis.”
“Cheated, you mean. And I hope you didn’t believe him. What is it?”
“No idea,” she said, easily. “That’s why I’m giving it to you.”
“Hmm,” Rodney said, annoyed, but he was almost immediately distracted by the carvings on the object. They seemed to be a pattern, if he could only just… “Ah-ha!”
The box snapped open, the top separating into eight triangular segments to reveal a hollow inside, filled with a folded papyrus.
“I knew you could do it!” Jeannie cried, and snatched up the paper.
Rodney snatched it back. He smoothed it out, moving into the light from the torch-shaped gas lamps to see it better. “It’s a map,” he said. “A map to… oh, my god.”
“What?”
“Oh, my god”
“What!?”
“Atlantis,” he breathed. “This’ll show them!”
With the papyrus in hand, Rodney stalked back the way he’d just come, striding into Woolsey’s office without knocking.
“Dr. McKay-”
“I’m going to Atlantis,” he interrupted.
Woolsey took the papyrus, then scowled. “Where did you get this?”
“That’s not important. What is important is that now we know the location of Atlantis. And we’re going.”
“That may be,” Woolsey said. “But all of the grants have already been allocated. The Scholars simply can’t-”
“Then we’ll go on our own,” said Jeannie. “All we need is this map and- Hey!”
She had reached for the papyrus as Woolsey pulled it away. His hand had knocked the cover from the lamp, and the edge of the map brushed the open flame - and caught fire.
“Oh, how terrible,” the museum director, completely unconvincing.
Rodney snatched it back and smothered the flame, but it was too late - the corner of the map that had showed Atlantis was gone.
“I am sorry, Dr. McKay,” said Woolsey, in that same insincere tone. “But it might be for the best. Clearly, this map is a forgery, and if you followed it, you would find nothing but empty sand.”
“I-” Rodney began, then stopped. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Woolsey. Sorry for bothering you.”
He ignored Jeannie’s indignant looks until they were back in the main museum.
“What the hell, Mer?” she demanded.
“That map was real,” he said. “And Woolsey destroying it means we’re on the right track.”
“But we don’t have the map,” Jeannie pointed out.
Rodney smiled. “But you cheated someone out of that box, and he can lead us to Atlantis. Now, where can we find him?”
“Well…”
*
The prison warden smiled. “Dr. McKay, I am happy to help you in any way I can, but surely, a man such as yourself has better things to do than interview a… a degenerate, such as this.”
“I want to see him,” Rodney repeated.
“Very well. This way, sir, miss…”
The warden lead them across an open yard to a wall of metal bars - on the other side, two guards hauled a battered and dirty prisoner between them, tossing him onto the ground. He made no move to get up, glancing uninterestedly at them - then he scowled, “I know you.”
Jeannie ducked her head, tipping her hat over her face. “You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
“No, you’re definitely her. I don’t forget people who count cards like that.”
“Who, me?” Jeannie faltered, but Rodney pushed in front of her, holding out the box.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“Atlantis,” the man said.
“That’s a lie,” Rodney challenged.
The prisoner stood, defiant. “I was there. I lost my entire regiment there, and I almost died myself. I found that-” he pointed at the box “-at the base of a statue. A statue of the same woman who killed my commanding officer.”
Rodney narrowed his eyes. “Were you really there?”
“Yes,” the man said.
“Can you take us there?” pressed Jeannie.
The guards reappeared, and the prisoner glanced back at them. “Yes,” he said, voice low. “Yes, if you get me out of here, I can take you there. Just…”
He gestured them closer. Rodney shared a look with Jeannie, who shrugged, then he leaned closer to the bars. The man reached through, grabbing the lapel of Rodney’s jacket, and hauled him in for a kiss.
“Hey!” Rodney spluttered, pulling back.
“Thanks,” the man said, and allowed the guards to haul him away.
Rodney looked after him for a long moment, then whirled to face the warden. “What is that man in for?”
“Sheppard? I actually do not know.”
“Well, then, what’s his bail?”
“Bail?” the warden laughed. “He is scheduled to be executed this afternoon.”
“What!?’ said Rodney. “But we need him.”
“That is unfortunate.”
Rodney caught his arm. “That man can guide us to what will certainly be the archaeological discovery of the century. And if you release him, I will cut you in for ten percent.”
“Hmm,” said the warden. “It is a large risk, releasing a prisoner. Fifty percent.”
Behind him, through another barred window, Rodney could see the guards dragging Sheppard into another courtyard - this one with a hanging scaffold in the center.
“Twenty,” countered Rodney.
Sheppard stepped up to the platform, slouching even as the hangman put the noose around his neck.
“Forty,” said the warden.
“Twenty-five.”
“Thirty.”
Rodney paused. “Thirty-five?”
“Twenty,” the warden snapped.
“Done!” said Rodney, and held out his hand.
“I-” said the warden, then sighed. “Done.”
“Release him,” Rodney insisted.
“Fine, fine…” The warden walked to the barred window. “Release him!”
*
The docks were crowded, but John navigated easily through the mass of people to the ship his new employers had hired to take them up the Nile.
It felt strange to be in clean clothes again, clean-shaven and clean himself. He hadn’t realized how bad the jail had been until he had been shown a glimmer of hope. And there was that glimmer now, walking just ahead of him - he’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere.
“It’s bad enough I need a convicted criminal to lead me - us! - to the greatest scientific discovery in history,” Rodney was saying, “but this… Sheppard, he seems…”
“Seems what?” said John.
Rodney whirled, expression shifting rapidly through guilt, then confusion, then recognition, then embarrassment.
“Right on time,” said Jeannie. “Come on, Mer.”
“What?” he said. “Right. Onto the ship…”
Once they were aboard, Rodney disappeared into his cabin, but John took a walk around the deck, marking exits and fellow passengers. They had been underway for some time before he found himself on a deck set up for recreation, spotting Jeannie settle at a small round table with several men. He sauntered closer, listening.
“We’re headed to a dig,” said one man. “Supposed to be the find of the century.”
“No, the millennium,” corrected another, this one British.
“Oh?” Jeannie asked, all innocence. “Do tell, Dr. Gaul.”
The first man smiled at her. “It’s supposed to be a legend. But we know where it is. Right, Grodin?”
“Indeed we do,” Grodin agreed. “Atlantis.”
“What’s that?” said Jeannie.
“The lost city?” said Gaul. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“No, never,” she said. “But you say you know where it is?”
“Well, not us,” allowed Grodin. “Our guide.”
He nodded to the fourth person at their table, the one with his back to John, just as John was nearing them. He came around to stand beside Jeannie, answering her smile with one of his own - until he saw the face of the guide.
“Ford?” he stammered.
Aidan Ford smiled up at him, the expression less boyish than it had once been, on account of his dark, vacant eye. “Sir.”
“On second thought,” said Jeannie, glancing between them, “I’m not feeling so well. Perhaps we’ll play cards another time. Major Sheppard, won’t you walk me to my cabin?”
John allowed her to take his arm and tow him out onto the outer deck.
“Okay, spill,” she said.
He took a shaky breath. “Ford was with me, in Atlantis. But he… she took him. I thought he was dead.”
“Apparently not.” Jeannie patted his shoulder, comforting.
“No,” agreed John, then straightened. “I should check our gear again.”
“You can do it in our cabin,” said Jeannie and pushed him inside.
He still had his duffle, and he set it on the low table, across from where Rodney was going over a stack of papers.
“Major,” he said, frowning as John opened his roll of ammunition. “Must you do that here?”
He shrugged. “Ask your sister.”
“Mer,” said Jeannie. “You could try to be nicer.”
“Nicer?” he repeated. “Why should I start now? And why should I start with him? He’s a criminal.”
“Thanks,” drawled John.
“And another thing,” Rodney said. “Why did you kiss me?”
John shrugged. “Thought I was going to die.”
Rodney scowled. “Then maybe instead of playing with your little toys, you can take a look at these maps.”
“Don’t need a map,” said John, and continued cleaning his guns.
“Oh, that is just-”
“Shh,” John interrupted. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Jeannie, moments before there was a sudden burst of gunfire from outside.
John was instantly on his feet, gun in hand. “Get everything back in my duffle,” he called over his shoulder. “Then get out of here.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Rodney protested, but he started gathering up the weapons.
Suddenly, their cabin door crashed open, and two masked figures burst in.
“I’ll be right behind you,” John said, and dodged a blow from the first intruder.
Rodney worked faster, tossing things into the duffle. He reached for the map, spread out on the table - just as the second intruder did, too.
“Give me the map,” the man said, in accented English.
In reply, Rodney swung the entire duffle bag, knocking the surprised intruder off his feet. He stumbled backward, arms pin wheeling even as he kept his grip on the map papyrus, and he hit the lantern on the wall. The glass smashed, and fire spread quickly over the curtains and plush couch.
“Uh… Sheppard?” said Jeannie.
“Go!” John yelled. He snatched the octagonal map box from the table, fired a few covering shots, and pushed both siblings from the room.
Outside their cabin, it was chaos. More dark-clothed men were ransacking other rooms, chasing the passengers who ran for their lives. The fire was spreading quickly, spilling through the thin bulkhead paneling and out into the night air.
John made it to the deck, still herding the McKays. There was more gunfire, from boats alongside their own, and John returned it. When he ran out of rounds in his rifle, he ducked into a doorway to reload. The enemy fire didn’t cease - he hadn’t realized how close or accurate it was until Rodney grabbed his shoulder holster to yank him out of the path of the bullets that thudded into the wall where he head had just been.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “Come on.”
“What…” Rodney began, but John slunk across the far side of the corridor, to the make-shift pen where their horses had been corralled.
John made quick work of the rope fencing, and the already-panicked horses bolted for the edge of the deck - knocking over several startled attackers as they went.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rodney demanded.
“They can swim,” said John. “Can you?”
“When I need to,” the archaeologist said.
“Great, because you need to.”
Without any warning, John turned them toward the opposite edge of the deck, and pushed Rodney out into the water. He turned to find Jeanie beside him, buttoning her jacket.
“I’ll go myself, thank you,” she said, and did just that.
John shook his head, and jumped in after them.
He almost collided with Rodney, who was treading water, and tugged him away from the ship. “Come on!” he called, over the continued gunfire and the roar of the growing fire. “It’s going down, and when the water hits the boiler, it’ll-”
Behind them, the ship exploded in a blast, throwing bodies and debris into the river.
“-explode,” John finished.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too far to shore and they clambered out, soaked and exhausted.
“Sheppard!” called a voice.
He looked up to see Ford on the opposite bank, herding horses back to the others. “We’ve got the horses!”
“And you’re on the wrong side of the river!” John yelled back.
Ford scowled, and John turned back to his own group.
“Let’s go.”
*
Once the sun came out, they dried rather quickly. Rodney tried not to complain - Sheppard had rescued them, after all - but he was grateful when they reached the little village where the major could rent them camels for the rest of their journey.
He was less grateful after two days of riding on the smelly beasts, especially when they crested a dune that Sheppard claimed was their last, and met up with Ford and his employers.
The desert stretched out before them, desolate and empty, but Sheppard drew them to a stop. As the sun rose, something shimmered out in the sand, resolving into a series of spires in the distance.
“Atlantis,” Rodney breathed.
Sheppard smiled. “Told you.” He looked across at Ford. “First one there gets first choice of dig sites?” he offered.
“You’re on, sir.” Ford agreed.
There was a pause, then both men spurred their camels on. They raced across the desert, reaching over to shove at each other as they raced - until Rodney came barreling up behind them. He heard Jeannie whoop in delight, then he was through the gates of the ruined city, and slowed his camel down again.
The others thundered in after him, and Sheppard grinned. “Didn’t know you had it in you, McKay.”
“You’ll find I’m full of surprises, major,” he replied, then surveyed the ruined city. “We’ll dig here.”
Gaul and Grodin looked at each other, then nodded. “Fine by us,” said Ford.
“Great,” said Sheppard. As the two groups separated, he positioned himself at Rodney’s elbow. “Why here?”
Rodney nodded to a statue, worn almost featureless by time. “That’s probably Lanteus, King of Atlantis. The reason I wanted to find this place was to find the Codex of Atlantis, the store of all Ancient knowledge.”
“And you think he has it?” Sheppard asked, eyeing the statue warily.
“I think it’s a good place to start,” said Rodney. He moved to the base of the statue, running an expert hand along the stone. “It’s probably in a hidden compartment or - Oh.”
His hand slipped as the stone shifted, not to a hidden compartment but a clear hole in the ground. It widened as the sand slid in, but the sunlight didn’t reach the bottom.
“You expect us to go down there?” Jeannie asked.
“Of course,” said Rodney. “Ah!”
He’d spotted a shape in the sand and pulled it out - as he suspected, it was a mirror, a circle of metal polished to shine. He used the sleeve of his jacket to buff the surface, noting that Jeannie had found another a few feet away. Sheppard was quick to catch on, and between them, they unearthed half a dozen mirrors.
“Pretty,” said Sheppard. “What do they do?”
“Focus sunlight,” said Rodney, adjusting the last one. “There, it aims right at the hole.”
Sheppard pulled length of rope from his saddlebag and made a loop at one end. “Ladies first?” he offered.
“Absolutely,” Jeannie agreed.
He lowered her down first, then Rodney. By the time Sheppard had anchored the rope and climbed down himself, they had almost finished readjusting the second set of polished-metal mirrors.
“Bigger than I thought,” Sheppard said.
The last mirror slid into place and sunlight streamed into the room.
“It looks like an embalming room,” Jeannie said, slowly. “But there’s something wrong. Something… dark.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rodney snapped. “But none of the texts, even the unreliable ones, ever mentioned tunnels under the city.”
“Well, here they are,” said Sheppard. He took a torch from the wall and struck a match to light it. “Shall we?”
They crept along, by the torchlight, down the corridor. Then another. Then another. After a few minutes, they began to hear sounds.
“That isn’t…?” Jeannie asked.
“Of course not,” said Rodney. “It’s-”
They rounded a corner and came face-to-face with their rival party. Sheppard immediately had a gun in his hand, pointing at Ford, who had his own gun pointed back.
“Ah, hello, Dr. McKay, Miss McKay,” said Gaul.
Jeannie managed a smile. “Dr. Gaul, Dr. Grodin. Surely, there’s no reason for hostility?”
“Perhaps not,” said Grodin. “But we seem to have reached an impasse.”
“Yes, but we-” Rodney began, but when he took a step forward, he could see sand shifting near his foot. “No, you’re right. We agreed to dig on this side, so we’ll stay on this side. Right?”
“Uh, right,” agreed Jeannie.
“Right, Sheppard,” Rodney said, and rested a hand on his elbow.
The major lowered his gun. “Right,” he agreed, and let Rodney tug him back down the corridor. “Why did we agree to that?”
“Because there’s another chamber beneath us,” he said. “And the lower the chamber…”
“… the greater the treasure,” finished Jeannie.
“Good thinking, Mer.”
Sheppard frowned. “Why do you call him ‘Mer’?”
“Because that’s his name,” she said, “Meredith.”
“It’s Rodney,” her brother snapped.
Sheppard smiled. “You look more like a Rodney to me.”
“I-” Rodney began, but Jeannie elbowed him.
“Look!”
It was an entrance to the level beneath, and they hurried down, but this corridor was just as empty as the one below. “We’re right below the statue,” said Rodney. “There must be something here.”
Sheppard shrugged. “A lower, lower chamber?”
“We should dig,” said Jeannie. “I call the pickaxe.”
After over an hour, Rodney was starting to doubt there was anything there. They had all take turns digging, but they’d barely made a dent in the floor. He dropped his shovel, and collapsed onto a chunk of collapsed wall.
Sheppard paused, too. “You’re not giving up?”
“Of course not.”
The major eyed him critically, then reached into a pouch in his holster and pulled out a wrapped package. “Eat something.”
“What is it?” Rodney asked, even as he took it.
“Jerky. And drink something, too. You look like you need it.”
“Aw, Mer,” said Jeannie. “I think this one’s a keeper.”
“Shut up,” her brother muttered, and took a bite of jerky.
Jeannie kept swinging her pickaxe. “Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place. Maybe we just have to try something else. Maybe-”
A particularly wild swing took Jeannie backwards with her pickaxe. Trying to right herself, she yanked it back up, and hit the ceiling above them, which crashed down in a cloud of dust and a decidedly solid object.
She stared at Rodney and Sheppard over the object, the three of them stunned for a long moment until Rodney blinked back into awareness and darted forward.
“It’s a sarcophagus!” he exclaimed. “But how?”
Sheppard shrugged. “Open it and find out.”
“Open it?” Rodney repeated. “You can’t just… anyway, it’s sealed.”
“More than usual,” agreed Jeannie. “Look at these inscriptions, Mer. This one, it looks like that box I found.”
“Cheated,” said Sheppard, but when she looked up at him, he offered a smile and produced the box from another pocket. “Here.”
Rodney opened the box and set it into the indentation. There was a faint click, and when Rodney turned the box like a dial, he could hear more clicking from inside the sarcophagus. It might have been the flickering torch, but it seemed like the engravings glowed briefly blue, before the lid unsealed with a hiss.
“Stand back,” said Sheppard, and pushed the lid of the sarcophagus open.
Jeannie peered over his shoulder. “Ew.”
They had expected the box to contain a mummy - dry, linen-wrapped, maybe a little crumbling. But the body inside was an unwrapped skeleton, covered with much more soft tissue than a mummy should have.
“This isn’t right,” said Rodney. “None of this makes any sense.”
“What about the inscription on the lid?” asked Sheppard.
“Warnings,” Jeannie said. “Not to open the sarcophagus and disturb the dead.”
He frowned. “Which we just did.”
Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “Pretty standard. But there’s still something wrong with this. This skeleton should have been mummified, but this body looks… well, not fresh, but…”
“Uh, guys?” said Jeannie, still crouched over the lid. She had flipped it over, to the underside, where wide gouges in the surface had the unmistakable pattern of human fingers.
“She was buried alive,” breathed Rodney. “And this glyph… she was a priestess, an important person. They were usually buried with honor, with gold and jewels and idols. But they didn’t… why would they do that?”
“Maybe we don’t want to know,” suggested Sheppard. “Weren’t you looking for a book?”
“Yes, of course,” Rodney said. “But that doesn’t mean I should ignore other interesting discoveries.”
“Of course,” said Sheppard, and settled back to watch the McKay siblings bicker over the sarcophagus.
*
Rodney glared at Gaul and Grodin, who were still puzzling over the ‘strange metal book’ they’d found beneath the other statue.
“It’s the Codex of Atlantis,” he muttered, settling into the sand beside their fire, “And those idiots don’t deserve it.”
“That looks like the same lock as on the sarcophagus,” added Jeannie. “The one that opens with our box.”
John didn’t look up from cleaning his shotgun. “There are ways to fix that.”
“You mean stealing,” Jeannie teased.
He set the gun back into his duffle. “Maybe.”
“Or we could find something tomorrow,” she continued. “It’s odd to find a sarcophagus alone, without treasures or at least some other stuff. Let alone wedged into the ceiling under a statue. There must be something else.”
“Hmm,” said Rodney.
“Well, we’ll just-” John broke off abruptly, reaching for his shotgun. “Get down!”
He’d barely finished his warning when there was the thunder of hoof beats in the sand and a dozen cloaked men rode into the ruins, swords raised.
John immediately fired at the nearest warrior, Ford a beat behind. Gaul and Grodin also had guns, but clearly not any training - their shots were wide, but had the helpful effect of scattering the riders to avoid them.
As John’s shotgun clicked empty, one of the riders neared, throwing back a deep hood to reveal a woman’s stern face. “Leave this place,” she snapped.
“I know you,” John said, then had no idea why he had, because he’d never seen her before.
“The desert spared you once,” she said. “If you release the evil here, it will not do so again.”
“I…” he began, but she spurred her horse and called for her men to leave.
A cheer went up from across their campsite - Gaul and Grodin seemed to think the retreat was their doing, and John had no intention of correcting them.
He turned back to the tent they’d set up, only to find it empty. “McKay!” he yelled.
“Be quiet,” snapped Rodney, stumbling from behind a crumbling wall. He was holding his arms oddly, but when John went to see if he was hurt, he batted him away. “Not where they can see you.”
Frowning, John followed him into their tent, where Rodney pulled the Codex of Atlantis from under his jacket, and the major huffed out a laugh. “Never change, McKay,” he said. “Now where’s-”
Jeannie ducked under the tent flap, holding out a dusty bottle. “Look what I swiped from the G-Men,” she said. “They think they won.”
“You don’t think they did?” John asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Who was that woman?”
He shook his head. “No idea.”
“Hmm,” said Jeannie, and opened the bottle.
She and Rodney both had a ridiculously low tolerance for alcohol. By the time the bottle was half empty, Jeannie was asleep on her bedroll, snoring softly. Rodney became an even more expansive talker when drunk - he ended up sitting beside John at the fire, the Codex in his lap.
“Can you even read that?” John asked.
“Of course I can,” he snapped. He’d already opened it, studying the metal pages full of strange angular engravings. “Mostly.”
“Then what does it say?”
Rodney stopped turning pages. “Solve detestionis - tolle sacerdem tenebrarum”
“What?” said John.
“Here,” Rodney said, pushing the Codex over so that John was holding the other side. “Here. Solve detestionis - tolle sacerdem tenebrarum”
As he said the phrase again, John could have sworn that the Codex glowed blue, but then the ruins around them began to rumble. Both men startled, but after a moment, everything was silent again.
“Maybe you should put this away and get some sleep,” John suggested.
Rodney scoffed. “That was just the ground settling after our dig,” he said. “What harm ever came from reading a book?”
“Why do you care so much about this city, anyway? It’s a ruin.”
“It once was the glory of Egypt,” Rodney said, shifting closer to John as he talked. “The technology… It wasn’t as big or as glamourous as Thebes or Memphis. But the people here prized technology above everything else. Other accounts call it magic, but I have long suspected that it was really very advanced technology. And this is proof.”
John eyed the Codex. “This?”
“The instruction manual,” he said. “With this, I can control everything here!”
“Except there’s nothing here,” said John, gently.
Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “A minor setback.”
“Never change, McKay,” he smiled. When there was no reply, he frowned and looked down - Rodney was asleep against his shoulder.
*
They had planned to begin the dig again at sunrise the next morning, but the light had barely crept over the horizon when Sheppard sat up abruptly, gun in hand, startling the McKay siblings awake as well.
“Whazzat?” Rodney said, as the major cautiously pulled aside the tent flap.
After a beat, he saw Sheppard holster his gun and push the flap fully open. “Grodin,” he said.
The British archaeologist looked terrible. “It’s Gaul,” he said. “He’s - it’s not good.”
“Where’s Ford?” asked Sheppard.
“He was gone when we woke up,” said Grodin. “There was… didn’t you feel that earthquake?”
Rodney shook his head, but Sheppard nodded. “There was one last night, too.”
“There’s something here,” Grodin said. “Something evil.”
“We’re scientists,” snapped Rodney, “not superstitious idiots. Something evil.”
Jeannie put a hand on his arm. “We should at least see Dr. Gaul,” she said, diplomatically, and the men agreed.
But when they go to the other side of their campsite, there was no sign of the other archaeologist.
“He was just here,” said Grodin. “He was so sick, where could he have gone.”
Sheppard scaled a half-toppled column, then slid back down. “He didn’t leave the ruins, I’d have been able to see him, so he must still be here. And if he didn’t go out, maybe he went in.”
“In?” Rodney repeated. “To the ruins?”
“He must have,” said Grodin.
“Stay here,” Sheppard ordered. He checked the two guns in his shoulder holster, then walked to where the other men had entered the underground chambers and climbed down.
The three scientists looked at each other for a moment, then hurried to follow.
He didn’t seem surprised, just scowled and lit a torch to light their way. After a few yards, Jeannie found a second torch and lit it, too.
“We should split up,” she suggested.
“No,” said Sheppard. “We should-” But she and Grodin were already gone. “Dammit.”
Rodney frowned. “There are no other exits. They must have found a secret passage.”
“That’s all we need,” Sheppard muttered. “You, stay close.”
They continued through the maze of corridors, until Rodney began to hear a strange scuffling noise. “Gaul?” he called.
There was no answer.
The noises continued, growing louder. It was somehow darker as they walked, until Sheppard’s torch spluttered and went out. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Rodney could see a human-shaped figure that looked like…
“Gaul?”
It was him, but Rodney could see why he hadn’t recognized him - he looked at least thirty years older, gray-haired and wrinkled.
“Gaul,” Rodney said again. “Are you all right?”
“All… right?” the other man repeated. “I’m fine. I’m hers.”
Rodney frowned and reached for him, but Sheppard grabbed his arm, yanking him back. “Don’t touch him.”
“You can be hers, too,” said Gaul.
“What…?” Rodney said, but another figure moved from the darkness.
For a moment, the feminine shape made him think that Jeannie had found them again, but then she caught a slice of slanted light and he realized that it was the mummy - walking upright, though still as skeletal as before.
Her lipless mouth opened and she rasped, “Lanteus?”
“What?” repeated Rodney.
She advanced toward them and her bony hand brushed Gaul’s shoulder. He gasped, skin contorting and wrinkling even as they watched, and the mummy’s skeleton seemed to solidify.
Sheppard seemed to regain his senses. He drew his gun and fired at the mummy, but the bullet passed right through, to impact the wall behind her.
The mummy scowled. “Lanteus,” she said.
There was a scuffling behind them - Sheppard turned, guns raised, but it was only Jeannie and Grodin, who stopped short.
“Is that…?” Jeannie began.
“Yes,” said Sheppard. He grabbed Rodney’s arm, turning them around. “We’re going.”
“But Gaul-” started Grodin.
The other man was still standing there, stunned. Sheppard sighed and grabbed Gaul, too, shoving him at his friend and pushing them all back toward the corridor.
“What about-” Rodney tried.
“We’re getting out of here, now,” snapped Sheppard, and they all obeyed.
At every turn, Rodney expected something to jump out at them, more mummies or evil spirits or a dozen other things he would have sworn he didn’t believe in. The light grew brighter as they neared the surface and he breathed a sigh of relief - only to let out a yelp at the sight that met them.
The warriors who had attacked them the night before were standing in the middle of the ruins, calm and quiet in the morning sun. Their leader, the woman who had spoken to Sheppard, stood at their center, scowling.
“You have woken her,” she said.
“We did not,” Rodney snapped, then, “Who?”
“The great evil,” she said. “For a thousand years, we Athosians have guarded the City of the Ancestors, to ensure that the great evil, the priestess, would never rise again. And you have woken her.”
“We didn’t mean to,” offered Jeannie.
The woman sighed. “If your friend is taken to a hospital, he may yet survive. We will take you back to Cairo. Then, you will leave our country and never return.”
“I-” Rodney began, but Sheppard elbowed him.
“Absolutely.”
*
John’s duffle, already packed when they left their campsite, was the only luggage he had with him, so he started to pack Rodney’s things.
“We’re not leaving,” the archaeologist protested, unpacking his shirts again.
“Did you listen to anything Teyla said on the ride back?” John asked.
Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tegan, was the leader of the Athosians. During their ride, she had explained her people’s mission, guarding the buried ancient city and the life-draining evil it contained. Which they had now released.
“I… heard… some of it,” Rodney hedged.
“Then you know why we have to get out of here.”
“And give up my discovery? We just need to come back with more people, more resources. The Bainbridge Scholars will have to let me join them now!”
“Do you hear yourself?” John demanded, and dumped an armload of books into the suitcase. “The doctors said Gaul will never fully recover. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” said Rodney, taking the books out again.
“Fine,” snapped John. “Fine. Stay here. See if I care.”
He stalked out of the room.
But the problem was, he did care. He cared what happened to that infuriating archaeologist, when he’d been so careful not to care about anyone since…
John walked out of the hotel and across the street to a bar. He had been a frequent patron, once, and he still recognized quite a few of the people there - including the older man at the bar, who scowled at him.
“Sheppard.”
“Everett,” he replied.
“Haven’t seem you around.”
John shrugged and gestured for a drink. “Got arrested.”
“Hmm,” said Everett, and the two men drank in silence.
A third man slid into a seat at the bar - Grodin - to join the silent drinking.
John set his shot glass on the bar and gestured for another. When it was full again, he reached for it, then frowned.
The liquid was rippling, the ripples growing wider, and John realized that the whole room was shaking. Glasses behind the bar rattled, pictures on the wall clattered, and the crystal chandelier jingled dangerously. The windows at the top of the high ceiling, which had been letting in the bright afternoon light, grew suddenly dim.
“Sheppard,” said Everett, still scowling. “Somehow, I know this is your fault.”
“How could I-?” John protested, but at that moment, Jeannie burst into the bar.
“Sheppard!” she cried. “Sheppard, he’s dead!”
“What?” said John. “Who’s dead?”
“Gaul. Mer kept talking about going back to Atlantis, so I thought Gaul might be able to talk him out of it. But when I went to see him, he was…”
“He was dead,” John guessed.
“He looked like a mummy,” she said. “Like he’d had the life sucked out of him.”
“Because he did,” said a voice. Teyla stood in the doorway, looking somber. “The evil, the priestess risen from the dead, is here in this city. With the life force she has taken from Dr. Gaul, she has already been able to shake the earth and darken the sky. She will have the strength to drain others and then…”
“Then what?” asked Jeannie.
“Great calamity,” Teyla said, darkly.
“Okay, so we don’t want that,” said John. “How do we stop her? What does she want?”
Teyla considered. “She is still weak. She will need to drain several more people to become strong enough for her ritual.”
“Ritual?” repeated Grodin.
“It is written that she vowed her revenge on the Pharaoh Lanteus, her brother. When he found out that she had been consuming the lives of others, he sealed her beneath Atlantis.”
“O…kay,” said Jeannie. “Wait, Lanteus? In the city, when Gaul… the first time, you know… she called Mer ‘Lanteus’.”
“She must be confused,” said John. “But if she’s mistaken McKay for her brother and her goal is revenge…”
“I fear you are correct,” Teyla agreed.
John tossed some coins onto the bar and checked his guns. “Jeannie, get Grodin to safety.”
“What?” she said. “He’s my brother, I’m coming with you!”
“And I’m not staying here alone,” Grodin protested.
Everett waved as they left. “Have fun, kids…”
*
After Sheppard left, Rodney continued packing, muttering to himself. Mummies and curses - yes, they had seen something difficult to explain, but that was no reason to run off like scared children. Scientific discoveries were not for the faint of heart, and Rodney was not a coward.
Mostly.
He folded another stack of shirts into his suitcase, then heard a noise in the small sitting room outside his hotel bedroom. He expected it to be Jeannie, back to try to talk him out of this expedition again, but there was only the sounds of someone in the room beyond.
“Jeannie?” he called.
She didn’t answer.
“Jeannie, whatever you say, I’m not giving up,” said Rodney.
There was still no answer.
“Jeannie?”
Frowning, Rodney left his suitcase and opened the door. Someone was standing at the window, and turned when he came in. “Hello, Dr. McKay.”
“Hello… Ford, wasn’t it?”
Ford smiled. “Yes.”
“Good, good. Was there something you needed?”
“Me?” the other man said. “No, nothing I need. But my mistress…”
“Your…” Rodney began.
The room began to shake, pictures rattling and lamps flickering, as the sky outside darkened. Then, the door burst open, and a woman entered. Her skeletal form seemed worse in daylight, the protruding bones more noticeable now that she had gained flesh in places.
“Lanteus,” she said. “I shall have my revenge.”
“I’m not Lanteus,” Rodney protested, but she didn’t seem to hear him.
“You are a fool, brother. But I have need of you - with your life force, I can return to my former glory and take the kingdom that should have been mine.”
“You can’t-” Rodney tried again, but she advanced toward him, hand outstretched.
Now that there was flesh on it, he could see a wicked orifice of some kind across her palm - and he knew he wanted no part of it. He backed away, until he hit the far wall.
“I…”
There was the sound of running feet from the corridor outside, then a sudden gunshot. The mummy jolted with the impact - not hurt, but annoyed - to glare at Sheppard, who stood in the open doorway, gun still raised.
“Get away from him!” the major shouted.
The queen scowled. “I need him, but I do not need you.” She turned to Rodney. “Come with me, Lanteus, and I will let these insignificants live.”
“Don’t, Rodney,” snapped Sheppard.
“I…” Rodney said again.
She raised her hand again and before anyone could stop her, she had seized Grodin. He gasped, skin wrinkling as they watched.
“No!” Rodney shouted. “No, I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t, Rodney,” Sheppard repeated.
“I’ll go with you,” Rodney said.
The queen smiled. “Excellent. But I shall need nourishment for the journey…”
She seized Grodin again, draining the last of his energy, and he slumped to the ground, dead.
“You-” Rodney began, but there was a sudden burst of wind and they were gone.
*
Everett - former pilot of the RAF - was still sitting at the bar where they’d left him.
It took a few minutes to convince him that John - joined by Jeannie and Teyla - were serious about needing him to fly them to a previously-mythical city in the middle of the desert, but he agreed.
The old biplane had clearly seen better days, but it did its job. At least, until they were close enough to the city for the queen to see them. A huge dust cloud rose up, shaped like her hand with the life-sucking orifice. It was too much for the tiny prop-driven machine - within walking distance of Atlantis, it went down, dumping its passengers into the sand.
“Sound off,” John said.
“I’m alive,” said Jeannie.
“I am unhurt,” Teyla said.
Everett didn’t reply. John struggled to his feet and jogged back to the plane. Its pilot was still strapped into his seat, unmoving.
“Is he…?” Jeannie asked.
The plane shifted suddenly, making John leap back, then sank steadily under the sand.
“Dead,” he said, softly.
“We still have our task,” said Teyla, not unkindly. “Let us go.”
The city was eerily silent as they entered. Torches had been lit in the campsite, leading down into the large underground chamber they had discovered first. They crept through the passages, to another large chamber they hadn’t been in before. It was clearly important, a large stone table in the center with statues and carvings all around.
Rodney was lying on the table, wrists bound but clearly alive and awake.
The queen, now dressed in a flowing gown, was almost entirely solid, but hardly human-looking. Her skin was pale, as was her hair, and she had odd markings on her face. When she smiled, her teeth were sharply pointed.
“Lanteus,” she said, holding the Codex of Atlantis. “The hour of your downfall has come.”
“I am not Lanteus!” Rodney shouted.
Jeannie nudged John’s shoulder. “We need that Codex. If we raised this thing, there must be something in there to un-raise it.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “You get it. I’ll distract her.”
“You’ll what?” said Jeannie, but he had already stepped out into the open.
John raised his gun and fired at the queen. As before, it had no physical effect, but she turned to look at him, leaving the Codex on the table.
“Acolytes,” the queen said. “Defend your mistress.”
Ford stepped out into the open as well, then the carvings on the wall rattled and came to life - the mummies of the followers who had been buried with the priestess.
“Now what?” said John.
“We defeat them,” Teyla told him. She drew two wooden sticks from her robe and attacked the nearest acolyte.
Being undead, they were hard to defeat. John’s bullets did nothing and he soon ran out, anyway. When he collided with a statue, he snagged the sword from its hand and that gave much better results. Teyla’s sticks fared much better from the start, but there were so many acolytes that it was an uphill battle.
Then Jeannie yelled, “Got it!”
The queen turned to look at her and she quickly dodged out of the way, the codex under her arm.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Find the reversal spell,” said John.
“It’s not magic,” Rodney protested. “And could one of you untie me?”
John was closer - he ducked around an acolyte who, thanks to Teyla, was missing one arm, and used his sword to sever the ropes binding Rodney. He pulled Rodney out of the way of another acolyte, then snagged his fallen sword for the archaeologist.
Rodney was clearly unskilled with the weapon, but he held his own and they faced the rest of the enemy together.
“I need the key!” yelled Jeannie.
“Where is it?” John asked.
Rodney pointed. “She still has it.”
“Great,” John muttered. “I’ll distract her.
The queen was still standing by the wall where her acolytes had emerged, and he charged at her, sword raised.
She held up her hand again, but instead of trying to drain his energy, she projected some kind of telekinetic energy to toss him backwards.
“That’s new,” he wheezed. “Rodney…”
“Got it!” he yelled. An acolyte came at him and he called, “Jeannie!”
She caught the key box and opened the book. “Oh, here it is!”
“Then read it!” Rodney yelled.
“Right, right… Sacredos reddere ad carcer.” There was a pause. “Nothing happened.”
“She does not have the blood of the Ancestors,” said Teyla. “To use the ancient magic, one must have the blood and the knowledge.”
“Well, who has that?” asked John.
She dispatched an acolyte to glare at him.
“Me?”
“We were both holding the Codex the first time,” said Rodney.
John sighed and made his way across the room to Jeannie. Sword in one hand, he used the other to touch the Codex. “Say it again.”
“ Sacredos reddere ad carcer,” Jeannie repeated.
In the dark chamber, it was easy to see how the book glowed. The queen shrieked as a sourceless wind swept through the room. It swirled around her, faster and faster, then passed clean through.
“It didn’t work,” Rodney said, disappointed.
“It did,” said Teyla. “She is mortal now.”
She might have been, but the queen appeared to have retained her powers. She used her telekinesis to push them all away.
“Sir…” said a voice.
Ford had crumpled when Jeannie had read the passage, but he got slowly to his feet.
“She still… has me,” he managed, with difficulty. “Once she’s…. gone… the city will… bury itself again. Let me… Go…”
“Ford…” said John, but his friend smiled.
“I can… do this… one last thing.”
“Okay,” John agreed, relunctantly.
Ford took a deep breath, then surged to his feet. He scooped up the sword of a fallen acolyte and dove toward the queen. She tried to push him away, but couldn’t - the sword ran her through, and both of them toppled to the ground.
Around them, the city began to shake.
“Go,” ordered John, grabbing Rodney’s hand and pulling him along, Jeannie and Teyla on their heels.
The shaking got worse as they ran back up through the corridors, tumbling dust and stones in their path. When they reached the surface, whole sections of wall were collapsing into the sand. It almost seemed as though they might not outrun the collapse, but then there was a loud booming noise and everything went still.
John stopped and looked back. The desert where the City of Atlantis was empty, not even the ruins left.
“Sheppard,” said Rodney. He seemed to realize they were still holding hands and tried to let go, but John didn’t let him. “You…”
“Yeah,” John agreed, and leaned in to kiss him.
“Puh-lease,” grumbled Jeannie.
Teyla merely smiled. “Come, my people have a camp nearby, where we can find transportation.”
“Sure,” John said and this time, Rodney kissed him.
THE END
Current Mood:
busy
Author: Ami Ven
Rating: G
Word Count: 8,847
Prompt: romancingmcshep 2020
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Pairing: John Sheppard/Rodney McKay
Summary: The Mummy AU - Rodney and John accidentally release the evil queen buried in the ancient City of Atlantis
The Codex of Atlantis
Lanteus, King of Egypt, scowled in disappointment at the prisoner brought before his throne. “How could you do this?” he demanded.
The High Priestess stood tall, despite her torn and dirty robes. “I did as you asked, my pharaoh.”
“As I asked? I asked you to safeguard our people from this plague. To appease the gods and deliver us from this evil. Instead, you have twisted your power to prey on those you should have protected.”
“And I have created that safeguard,” she said. “My acolytes and I are now immune to the plague.”
“But at what cost?” Lanteus took a step toward her, voice pleading. “Sister, what have you become? To take the lives of others, to drain their spirit this way… it is against all that we believe.”
“All that you believe,” the High Priestess snapped. “Your birthright made you king of Egypt, but you are not fit to lead. This plague is a punishment from the gods, a punishment I can deliver our people from.”
“By turning them into monsters like you?” he said. “No. I won’t allow it.”
“How will you stop me, dear brother? Kill me?”
Lanteus shook his head, sadly. “No,” he repeated. “For the crimes you have committed, there can only be one sentence.”
“What?” she said, sounding unsure for the first time. “Brother, that has never been done!”
“Never has it been needed,” he said. “Guards!”
The High Priestess straightened again, hate in her eyes. “Do not think this will be the last of me! I will have my revenge, brother, even if it takes a thousand years!”
*
“Fall back!”
Even as he gave the order, Major John Sheppard knew it was a lost cause. The enemy were clearly natives, at least thirty men on sure-footed desert horses, more than a match for the dozen weary men of John’s Foreign Legion regiment.
He fired another shot, then dropped behind the ruins of a wall, reloading his rifle automatically as he looked for his men. Only a few made it to his position, but he was relieved that Lieutenant Aidan Ford was one of them.
They rose in unison to fire again, then retreated to the next wall. That proved to be no better cover than the first.
“What do we do, sir?” Ford asked.
Thundering hooves from behind them made both men whirl, rifles at the ready, but it was only their commanding officer.
“Fall back!” roared Colonel Sumner.
The enemy pursued as they retreated, and Sumner covered their rear, his sword flashing in the sun. Even fewer of their men reached the shelter of the ruins, but that meant they were even more outnumbered. John fired again and again, until he failed to find a fresh cartridge in his bandolier.
“I’m out, too,” said Ford.
“Fall back!” Sumner shouted again, but panic had taken over - only the three of them reached the center of the ruins, scatterings of head-high walls and toppled statuary. The colonel slowed his horse to a walk, but the animal was clearly spooked.
John knew exactly how it felt. The ruins were eerily silent, sand shifting in ways that shouldn’t have been possible with the way the wind was blowing.
“Sir…” he began, without any real idea of what he was going to say.
Sumner’s horse suddenly reared, dumping its rider into the sand, and the colonel swore loudly. Sand swirled around them, leading to the half-buried statue. It concentrated around Sumner, coalescing into the form of the woman from the statue. She was beautiful, but something seemed to flicker about her as John looked, something dark and ugly.
“Ma’am?” ventured Sumner.
The woman didn’t speak. She walked toward him, hand held out. All three men stood motionless as she approached. Her hand rested gently against the fabric of the colonel’s uniform - then he started to scream.
Ford started forward, but John grabbed his arm. “Wait, don’t touch them.”
Sumner sank to his knees in the sand. The skin of his face and hands rippled, then began to age. His hair, already gray, turned white and withered. He let out a strangled cry then toppled onto the ground, dry as a mummy.
The woman turned, hand still raised, and John backed quickly away.
“The colonel…” began Ford.
“He’s gone,” John said. “Come on.”
The woman followed, unhurried as they stumbled through the ruins. John caught himself on a the base of another statue, his boot knocking something half-buried in the sand. It was an octagonal box and he stuffed it into his pocket.
“Major!”
He turned - Ford had turned left when he’d gone right, and the woman had followed him.
“Hey!” John called, trying to get her attention, but she ignored him.
Her hand collided with Ford’s chest and the major ignored his own earlier orders, grabbing Ford’s shoulder and wrenching him away. The lieutenant looked up at him with wide eyes.
“Ford?”
“He is mine,” said the woman, her voice echoing in a way no human voice should. “As you will be.”
“Go to hell,” John snapped. He shifted his grip on Ford’s arm, but the other man pulled away. “Ford, come on!”
“I am hers,” he said, deadpan.
“Lieutenant, that’s an order,” said John.
Ford didn’t move. “Join us, major.”
He reached out, and John scrambled back. “Ford, snap out of it.”
“This is where I belong, sir.”
“Ford…”
The woman came up beside him, hand outstretched. John threw one last look at Ford, then raced from the ruins.
On a cliff high above, a woman stood, face hidden beneath the hood of her cloak.
“Should we kill him, Teyla?” asked the man beside her.
She shook her head. “There is no need, Halling. If he is not one of hers, the desert will claim him.”
They both watched the lone figure disappear across the sand.
*
“I really am sorry, Dr. McKay,” said Mr. Woolsey, not sounding remotely sorry. “But the Bainbridge Scholars simply cannot accept any new members at this time.”
Rodney McKay scowled. “That idiot Kavanagh is being considered.”
“Which is why we are not accepting new applications,” said the Director of the Cairo museum, smoothly. He paused for a moment, then continued, “Dr. McKay, your parents were some of our most generous patrons, so allow me to be honest with you.”
“A refreshing change,” Rodney muttered.
Woolsey tactfully ignored him. “There is more to the world of Egyptology than just digging things up from the sand. Dr. Kavanagh may not have made any major discoveries, but he does contribute enough to keep his name known, and he takes the time to make contacts, both with the locals in Egypt and with the kind of people who can finance these digs. You, Dr. McKay, haven’t published so much as a word in three years.”
“Just because I don’t stop to pick up every pottery shard and sweet talk every rich society flunky-”
“And that is why you are not being considered by the Scholars.” Woolsey sighed. “If only you would concentrate on more accepted areas of study, instead of chasing after rumors and fairy tales…”
“Atlantis is real,” said Rodney.
Woolsey’s smile was pitying. “The Scholars will be accepting applications again next year, Dr. McKay. I suggest you use that time to find a more suitable proposal for an expedition. Good day.”
McKay scowled and stalked out of his office into the main museum.
He was muttering under his breath, too lost in his anger to see the shadow that moved from behind a large display, “I take it your meeting didn’t go well?”
“Jeannie!” he gasped.
His sister grinned. “Hello, Mer.”
He scowled again. “I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow,” Rodney said, and continued walking.
She hurried to follow him, tossing a tarnished silver something between her hands. “Ah, yes, well, I had a bit of a… disagreement with some of my traveling companions.”
“You mean, you cheated them all at cards and they found out.”
“It’s not my fault I can count so well,” Jeannie said, innocently. “But, I brought you a present.”
She held out the object, and Rodney took it. It was octagonal, about the size of his palm. Indentations on one side made it seem like it would open, but he couldn’t figure out how.
“Where did you get it?”
“I won it in a card game, from a charming fellow who claimed he’d seen Atlantis.”
“Cheated, you mean. And I hope you didn’t believe him. What is it?”
“No idea,” she said, easily. “That’s why I’m giving it to you.”
“Hmm,” Rodney said, annoyed, but he was almost immediately distracted by the carvings on the object. They seemed to be a pattern, if he could only just… “Ah-ha!”
The box snapped open, the top separating into eight triangular segments to reveal a hollow inside, filled with a folded papyrus.
“I knew you could do it!” Jeannie cried, and snatched up the paper.
Rodney snatched it back. He smoothed it out, moving into the light from the torch-shaped gas lamps to see it better. “It’s a map,” he said. “A map to… oh, my god.”
“What?”
“Oh, my god”
“What!?”
“Atlantis,” he breathed. “This’ll show them!”
With the papyrus in hand, Rodney stalked back the way he’d just come, striding into Woolsey’s office without knocking.
“Dr. McKay-”
“I’m going to Atlantis,” he interrupted.
Woolsey took the papyrus, then scowled. “Where did you get this?”
“That’s not important. What is important is that now we know the location of Atlantis. And we’re going.”
“That may be,” Woolsey said. “But all of the grants have already been allocated. The Scholars simply can’t-”
“Then we’ll go on our own,” said Jeannie. “All we need is this map and- Hey!”
She had reached for the papyrus as Woolsey pulled it away. His hand had knocked the cover from the lamp, and the edge of the map brushed the open flame - and caught fire.
“Oh, how terrible,” the museum director, completely unconvincing.
Rodney snatched it back and smothered the flame, but it was too late - the corner of the map that had showed Atlantis was gone.
“I am sorry, Dr. McKay,” said Woolsey, in that same insincere tone. “But it might be for the best. Clearly, this map is a forgery, and if you followed it, you would find nothing but empty sand.”
“I-” Rodney began, then stopped. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Woolsey. Sorry for bothering you.”
He ignored Jeannie’s indignant looks until they were back in the main museum.
“What the hell, Mer?” she demanded.
“That map was real,” he said. “And Woolsey destroying it means we’re on the right track.”
“But we don’t have the map,” Jeannie pointed out.
Rodney smiled. “But you cheated someone out of that box, and he can lead us to Atlantis. Now, where can we find him?”
“Well…”
*
The prison warden smiled. “Dr. McKay, I am happy to help you in any way I can, but surely, a man such as yourself has better things to do than interview a… a degenerate, such as this.”
“I want to see him,” Rodney repeated.
“Very well. This way, sir, miss…”
The warden lead them across an open yard to a wall of metal bars - on the other side, two guards hauled a battered and dirty prisoner between them, tossing him onto the ground. He made no move to get up, glancing uninterestedly at them - then he scowled, “I know you.”
Jeannie ducked her head, tipping her hat over her face. “You must have mistaken me for someone else.”
“No, you’re definitely her. I don’t forget people who count cards like that.”
“Who, me?” Jeannie faltered, but Rodney pushed in front of her, holding out the box.
“Where did you get this?” he demanded.
“Atlantis,” the man said.
“That’s a lie,” Rodney challenged.
The prisoner stood, defiant. “I was there. I lost my entire regiment there, and I almost died myself. I found that-” he pointed at the box “-at the base of a statue. A statue of the same woman who killed my commanding officer.”
Rodney narrowed his eyes. “Were you really there?”
“Yes,” the man said.
“Can you take us there?” pressed Jeannie.
The guards reappeared, and the prisoner glanced back at them. “Yes,” he said, voice low. “Yes, if you get me out of here, I can take you there. Just…”
He gestured them closer. Rodney shared a look with Jeannie, who shrugged, then he leaned closer to the bars. The man reached through, grabbing the lapel of Rodney’s jacket, and hauled him in for a kiss.
“Hey!” Rodney spluttered, pulling back.
“Thanks,” the man said, and allowed the guards to haul him away.
Rodney looked after him for a long moment, then whirled to face the warden. “What is that man in for?”
“Sheppard? I actually do not know.”
“Well, then, what’s his bail?”
“Bail?” the warden laughed. “He is scheduled to be executed this afternoon.”
“What!?’ said Rodney. “But we need him.”
“That is unfortunate.”
Rodney caught his arm. “That man can guide us to what will certainly be the archaeological discovery of the century. And if you release him, I will cut you in for ten percent.”
“Hmm,” said the warden. “It is a large risk, releasing a prisoner. Fifty percent.”
Behind him, through another barred window, Rodney could see the guards dragging Sheppard into another courtyard - this one with a hanging scaffold in the center.
“Twenty,” countered Rodney.
Sheppard stepped up to the platform, slouching even as the hangman put the noose around his neck.
“Forty,” said the warden.
“Twenty-five.”
“Thirty.”
Rodney paused. “Thirty-five?”
“Twenty,” the warden snapped.
“Done!” said Rodney, and held out his hand.
“I-” said the warden, then sighed. “Done.”
“Release him,” Rodney insisted.
“Fine, fine…” The warden walked to the barred window. “Release him!”
*
The docks were crowded, but John navigated easily through the mass of people to the ship his new employers had hired to take them up the Nile.
It felt strange to be in clean clothes again, clean-shaven and clean himself. He hadn’t realized how bad the jail had been until he had been shown a glimmer of hope. And there was that glimmer now, walking just ahead of him - he’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere.
“It’s bad enough I need a convicted criminal to lead me - us! - to the greatest scientific discovery in history,” Rodney was saying, “but this… Sheppard, he seems…”
“Seems what?” said John.
Rodney whirled, expression shifting rapidly through guilt, then confusion, then recognition, then embarrassment.
“Right on time,” said Jeannie. “Come on, Mer.”
“What?” he said. “Right. Onto the ship…”
Once they were aboard, Rodney disappeared into his cabin, but John took a walk around the deck, marking exits and fellow passengers. They had been underway for some time before he found himself on a deck set up for recreation, spotting Jeannie settle at a small round table with several men. He sauntered closer, listening.
“We’re headed to a dig,” said one man. “Supposed to be the find of the century.”
“No, the millennium,” corrected another, this one British.
“Oh?” Jeannie asked, all innocence. “Do tell, Dr. Gaul.”
The first man smiled at her. “It’s supposed to be a legend. But we know where it is. Right, Grodin?”
“Indeed we do,” Grodin agreed. “Atlantis.”
“What’s that?” said Jeannie.
“The lost city?” said Gaul. “You’ve never heard of it?”
“No, never,” she said. “But you say you know where it is?”
“Well, not us,” allowed Grodin. “Our guide.”
He nodded to the fourth person at their table, the one with his back to John, just as John was nearing them. He came around to stand beside Jeannie, answering her smile with one of his own - until he saw the face of the guide.
“Ford?” he stammered.
Aidan Ford smiled up at him, the expression less boyish than it had once been, on account of his dark, vacant eye. “Sir.”
“On second thought,” said Jeannie, glancing between them, “I’m not feeling so well. Perhaps we’ll play cards another time. Major Sheppard, won’t you walk me to my cabin?”
John allowed her to take his arm and tow him out onto the outer deck.
“Okay, spill,” she said.
He took a shaky breath. “Ford was with me, in Atlantis. But he… she took him. I thought he was dead.”
“Apparently not.” Jeannie patted his shoulder, comforting.
“No,” agreed John, then straightened. “I should check our gear again.”
“You can do it in our cabin,” said Jeannie and pushed him inside.
He still had his duffle, and he set it on the low table, across from where Rodney was going over a stack of papers.
“Major,” he said, frowning as John opened his roll of ammunition. “Must you do that here?”
He shrugged. “Ask your sister.”
“Mer,” said Jeannie. “You could try to be nicer.”
“Nicer?” he repeated. “Why should I start now? And why should I start with him? He’s a criminal.”
“Thanks,” drawled John.
“And another thing,” Rodney said. “Why did you kiss me?”
John shrugged. “Thought I was going to die.”
Rodney scowled. “Then maybe instead of playing with your little toys, you can take a look at these maps.”
“Don’t need a map,” said John, and continued cleaning his guns.
“Oh, that is just-”
“Shh,” John interrupted. “Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” asked Jeannie, moments before there was a sudden burst of gunfire from outside.
John was instantly on his feet, gun in hand. “Get everything back in my duffle,” he called over his shoulder. “Then get out of here.”
“We’re not leaving you,” Rodney protested, but he started gathering up the weapons.
Suddenly, their cabin door crashed open, and two masked figures burst in.
“I’ll be right behind you,” John said, and dodged a blow from the first intruder.
Rodney worked faster, tossing things into the duffle. He reached for the map, spread out on the table - just as the second intruder did, too.
“Give me the map,” the man said, in accented English.
In reply, Rodney swung the entire duffle bag, knocking the surprised intruder off his feet. He stumbled backward, arms pin wheeling even as he kept his grip on the map papyrus, and he hit the lantern on the wall. The glass smashed, and fire spread quickly over the curtains and plush couch.
“Uh… Sheppard?” said Jeannie.
“Go!” John yelled. He snatched the octagonal map box from the table, fired a few covering shots, and pushed both siblings from the room.
Outside their cabin, it was chaos. More dark-clothed men were ransacking other rooms, chasing the passengers who ran for their lives. The fire was spreading quickly, spilling through the thin bulkhead paneling and out into the night air.
John made it to the deck, still herding the McKays. There was more gunfire, from boats alongside their own, and John returned it. When he ran out of rounds in his rifle, he ducked into a doorway to reload. The enemy fire didn’t cease - he hadn’t realized how close or accurate it was until Rodney grabbed his shoulder holster to yank him out of the path of the bullets that thudded into the wall where he head had just been.
“Thanks,” he muttered. “Come on.”
“What…” Rodney began, but John slunk across the far side of the corridor, to the make-shift pen where their horses had been corralled.
John made quick work of the rope fencing, and the already-panicked horses bolted for the edge of the deck - knocking over several startled attackers as they went.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Rodney demanded.
“They can swim,” said John. “Can you?”
“When I need to,” the archaeologist said.
“Great, because you need to.”
Without any warning, John turned them toward the opposite edge of the deck, and pushed Rodney out into the water. He turned to find Jeanie beside him, buttoning her jacket.
“I’ll go myself, thank you,” she said, and did just that.
John shook his head, and jumped in after them.
He almost collided with Rodney, who was treading water, and tugged him away from the ship. “Come on!” he called, over the continued gunfire and the roar of the growing fire. “It’s going down, and when the water hits the boiler, it’ll-”
Behind them, the ship exploded in a blast, throwing bodies and debris into the river.
“-explode,” John finished.
Fortunately, it wasn’t too far to shore and they clambered out, soaked and exhausted.
“Sheppard!” called a voice.
He looked up to see Ford on the opposite bank, herding horses back to the others. “We’ve got the horses!”
“And you’re on the wrong side of the river!” John yelled back.
Ford scowled, and John turned back to his own group.
“Let’s go.”
*
Once the sun came out, they dried rather quickly. Rodney tried not to complain - Sheppard had rescued them, after all - but he was grateful when they reached the little village where the major could rent them camels for the rest of their journey.
He was less grateful after two days of riding on the smelly beasts, especially when they crested a dune that Sheppard claimed was their last, and met up with Ford and his employers.
The desert stretched out before them, desolate and empty, but Sheppard drew them to a stop. As the sun rose, something shimmered out in the sand, resolving into a series of spires in the distance.
“Atlantis,” Rodney breathed.
Sheppard smiled. “Told you.” He looked across at Ford. “First one there gets first choice of dig sites?” he offered.
“You’re on, sir.” Ford agreed.
There was a pause, then both men spurred their camels on. They raced across the desert, reaching over to shove at each other as they raced - until Rodney came barreling up behind them. He heard Jeannie whoop in delight, then he was through the gates of the ruined city, and slowed his camel down again.
The others thundered in after him, and Sheppard grinned. “Didn’t know you had it in you, McKay.”
“You’ll find I’m full of surprises, major,” he replied, then surveyed the ruined city. “We’ll dig here.”
Gaul and Grodin looked at each other, then nodded. “Fine by us,” said Ford.
“Great,” said Sheppard. As the two groups separated, he positioned himself at Rodney’s elbow. “Why here?”
Rodney nodded to a statue, worn almost featureless by time. “That’s probably Lanteus, King of Atlantis. The reason I wanted to find this place was to find the Codex of Atlantis, the store of all Ancient knowledge.”
“And you think he has it?” Sheppard asked, eyeing the statue warily.
“I think it’s a good place to start,” said Rodney. He moved to the base of the statue, running an expert hand along the stone. “It’s probably in a hidden compartment or - Oh.”
His hand slipped as the stone shifted, not to a hidden compartment but a clear hole in the ground. It widened as the sand slid in, but the sunlight didn’t reach the bottom.
“You expect us to go down there?” Jeannie asked.
“Of course,” said Rodney. “Ah!”
He’d spotted a shape in the sand and pulled it out - as he suspected, it was a mirror, a circle of metal polished to shine. He used the sleeve of his jacket to buff the surface, noting that Jeannie had found another a few feet away. Sheppard was quick to catch on, and between them, they unearthed half a dozen mirrors.
“Pretty,” said Sheppard. “What do they do?”
“Focus sunlight,” said Rodney, adjusting the last one. “There, it aims right at the hole.”
Sheppard pulled length of rope from his saddlebag and made a loop at one end. “Ladies first?” he offered.
“Absolutely,” Jeannie agreed.
He lowered her down first, then Rodney. By the time Sheppard had anchored the rope and climbed down himself, they had almost finished readjusting the second set of polished-metal mirrors.
“Bigger than I thought,” Sheppard said.
The last mirror slid into place and sunlight streamed into the room.
“It looks like an embalming room,” Jeannie said, slowly. “But there’s something wrong. Something… dark.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rodney snapped. “But none of the texts, even the unreliable ones, ever mentioned tunnels under the city.”
“Well, here they are,” said Sheppard. He took a torch from the wall and struck a match to light it. “Shall we?”
They crept along, by the torchlight, down the corridor. Then another. Then another. After a few minutes, they began to hear sounds.
“That isn’t…?” Jeannie asked.
“Of course not,” said Rodney. “It’s-”
They rounded a corner and came face-to-face with their rival party. Sheppard immediately had a gun in his hand, pointing at Ford, who had his own gun pointed back.
“Ah, hello, Dr. McKay, Miss McKay,” said Gaul.
Jeannie managed a smile. “Dr. Gaul, Dr. Grodin. Surely, there’s no reason for hostility?”
“Perhaps not,” said Grodin. “But we seem to have reached an impasse.”
“Yes, but we-” Rodney began, but when he took a step forward, he could see sand shifting near his foot. “No, you’re right. We agreed to dig on this side, so we’ll stay on this side. Right?”
“Uh, right,” agreed Jeannie.
“Right, Sheppard,” Rodney said, and rested a hand on his elbow.
The major lowered his gun. “Right,” he agreed, and let Rodney tug him back down the corridor. “Why did we agree to that?”
“Because there’s another chamber beneath us,” he said. “And the lower the chamber…”
“… the greater the treasure,” finished Jeannie.
“Good thinking, Mer.”
Sheppard frowned. “Why do you call him ‘Mer’?”
“Because that’s his name,” she said, “Meredith.”
“It’s Rodney,” her brother snapped.
Sheppard smiled. “You look more like a Rodney to me.”
“I-” Rodney began, but Jeannie elbowed him.
“Look!”
It was an entrance to the level beneath, and they hurried down, but this corridor was just as empty as the one below. “We’re right below the statue,” said Rodney. “There must be something here.”
Sheppard shrugged. “A lower, lower chamber?”
“We should dig,” said Jeannie. “I call the pickaxe.”
After over an hour, Rodney was starting to doubt there was anything there. They had all take turns digging, but they’d barely made a dent in the floor. He dropped his shovel, and collapsed onto a chunk of collapsed wall.
Sheppard paused, too. “You’re not giving up?”
“Of course not.”
The major eyed him critically, then reached into a pouch in his holster and pulled out a wrapped package. “Eat something.”
“What is it?” Rodney asked, even as he took it.
“Jerky. And drink something, too. You look like you need it.”
“Aw, Mer,” said Jeannie. “I think this one’s a keeper.”
“Shut up,” her brother muttered, and took a bite of jerky.
Jeannie kept swinging her pickaxe. “Maybe we’re just looking in the wrong place. Maybe we just have to try something else. Maybe-”
A particularly wild swing took Jeannie backwards with her pickaxe. Trying to right herself, she yanked it back up, and hit the ceiling above them, which crashed down in a cloud of dust and a decidedly solid object.
She stared at Rodney and Sheppard over the object, the three of them stunned for a long moment until Rodney blinked back into awareness and darted forward.
“It’s a sarcophagus!” he exclaimed. “But how?”
Sheppard shrugged. “Open it and find out.”
“Open it?” Rodney repeated. “You can’t just… anyway, it’s sealed.”
“More than usual,” agreed Jeannie. “Look at these inscriptions, Mer. This one, it looks like that box I found.”
“Cheated,” said Sheppard, but when she looked up at him, he offered a smile and produced the box from another pocket. “Here.”
Rodney opened the box and set it into the indentation. There was a faint click, and when Rodney turned the box like a dial, he could hear more clicking from inside the sarcophagus. It might have been the flickering torch, but it seemed like the engravings glowed briefly blue, before the lid unsealed with a hiss.
“Stand back,” said Sheppard, and pushed the lid of the sarcophagus open.
Jeannie peered over his shoulder. “Ew.”
They had expected the box to contain a mummy - dry, linen-wrapped, maybe a little crumbling. But the body inside was an unwrapped skeleton, covered with much more soft tissue than a mummy should have.
“This isn’t right,” said Rodney. “None of this makes any sense.”
“What about the inscription on the lid?” asked Sheppard.
“Warnings,” Jeannie said. “Not to open the sarcophagus and disturb the dead.”
He frowned. “Which we just did.”
Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “Pretty standard. But there’s still something wrong with this. This skeleton should have been mummified, but this body looks… well, not fresh, but…”
“Uh, guys?” said Jeannie, still crouched over the lid. She had flipped it over, to the underside, where wide gouges in the surface had the unmistakable pattern of human fingers.
“She was buried alive,” breathed Rodney. “And this glyph… she was a priestess, an important person. They were usually buried with honor, with gold and jewels and idols. But they didn’t… why would they do that?”
“Maybe we don’t want to know,” suggested Sheppard. “Weren’t you looking for a book?”
“Yes, of course,” Rodney said. “But that doesn’t mean I should ignore other interesting discoveries.”
“Of course,” said Sheppard, and settled back to watch the McKay siblings bicker over the sarcophagus.
*
Rodney glared at Gaul and Grodin, who were still puzzling over the ‘strange metal book’ they’d found beneath the other statue.
“It’s the Codex of Atlantis,” he muttered, settling into the sand beside their fire, “And those idiots don’t deserve it.”
“That looks like the same lock as on the sarcophagus,” added Jeannie. “The one that opens with our box.”
John didn’t look up from cleaning his shotgun. “There are ways to fix that.”
“You mean stealing,” Jeannie teased.
He set the gun back into his duffle. “Maybe.”
“Or we could find something tomorrow,” she continued. “It’s odd to find a sarcophagus alone, without treasures or at least some other stuff. Let alone wedged into the ceiling under a statue. There must be something else.”
“Hmm,” said Rodney.
“Well, we’ll just-” John broke off abruptly, reaching for his shotgun. “Get down!”
He’d barely finished his warning when there was the thunder of hoof beats in the sand and a dozen cloaked men rode into the ruins, swords raised.
John immediately fired at the nearest warrior, Ford a beat behind. Gaul and Grodin also had guns, but clearly not any training - their shots were wide, but had the helpful effect of scattering the riders to avoid them.
As John’s shotgun clicked empty, one of the riders neared, throwing back a deep hood to reveal a woman’s stern face. “Leave this place,” she snapped.
“I know you,” John said, then had no idea why he had, because he’d never seen her before.
“The desert spared you once,” she said. “If you release the evil here, it will not do so again.”
“I…” he began, but she spurred her horse and called for her men to leave.
A cheer went up from across their campsite - Gaul and Grodin seemed to think the retreat was their doing, and John had no intention of correcting them.
He turned back to the tent they’d set up, only to find it empty. “McKay!” he yelled.
“Be quiet,” snapped Rodney, stumbling from behind a crumbling wall. He was holding his arms oddly, but when John went to see if he was hurt, he batted him away. “Not where they can see you.”
Frowning, John followed him into their tent, where Rodney pulled the Codex of Atlantis from under his jacket, and the major huffed out a laugh. “Never change, McKay,” he said. “Now where’s-”
Jeannie ducked under the tent flap, holding out a dusty bottle. “Look what I swiped from the G-Men,” she said. “They think they won.”
“You don’t think they did?” John asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “Who was that woman?”
He shook his head. “No idea.”
“Hmm,” said Jeannie, and opened the bottle.
She and Rodney both had a ridiculously low tolerance for alcohol. By the time the bottle was half empty, Jeannie was asleep on her bedroll, snoring softly. Rodney became an even more expansive talker when drunk - he ended up sitting beside John at the fire, the Codex in his lap.
“Can you even read that?” John asked.
“Of course I can,” he snapped. He’d already opened it, studying the metal pages full of strange angular engravings. “Mostly.”
“Then what does it say?”
Rodney stopped turning pages. “Solve detestionis - tolle sacerdem tenebrarum”
“What?” said John.
“Here,” Rodney said, pushing the Codex over so that John was holding the other side. “Here. Solve detestionis - tolle sacerdem tenebrarum”
As he said the phrase again, John could have sworn that the Codex glowed blue, but then the ruins around them began to rumble. Both men startled, but after a moment, everything was silent again.
“Maybe you should put this away and get some sleep,” John suggested.
Rodney scoffed. “That was just the ground settling after our dig,” he said. “What harm ever came from reading a book?”
“Why do you care so much about this city, anyway? It’s a ruin.”
“It once was the glory of Egypt,” Rodney said, shifting closer to John as he talked. “The technology… It wasn’t as big or as glamourous as Thebes or Memphis. But the people here prized technology above everything else. Other accounts call it magic, but I have long suspected that it was really very advanced technology. And this is proof.”
John eyed the Codex. “This?”
“The instruction manual,” he said. “With this, I can control everything here!”
“Except there’s nothing here,” said John, gently.
Rodney waved a dismissive hand. “A minor setback.”
“Never change, McKay,” he smiled. When there was no reply, he frowned and looked down - Rodney was asleep against his shoulder.
*
They had planned to begin the dig again at sunrise the next morning, but the light had barely crept over the horizon when Sheppard sat up abruptly, gun in hand, startling the McKay siblings awake as well.
“Whazzat?” Rodney said, as the major cautiously pulled aside the tent flap.
After a beat, he saw Sheppard holster his gun and push the flap fully open. “Grodin,” he said.
The British archaeologist looked terrible. “It’s Gaul,” he said. “He’s - it’s not good.”
“Where’s Ford?” asked Sheppard.
“He was gone when we woke up,” said Grodin. “There was… didn’t you feel that earthquake?”
Rodney shook his head, but Sheppard nodded. “There was one last night, too.”
“There’s something here,” Grodin said. “Something evil.”
“We’re scientists,” snapped Rodney, “not superstitious idiots. Something evil.”
Jeannie put a hand on his arm. “We should at least see Dr. Gaul,” she said, diplomatically, and the men agreed.
But when they go to the other side of their campsite, there was no sign of the other archaeologist.
“He was just here,” said Grodin. “He was so sick, where could he have gone.”
Sheppard scaled a half-toppled column, then slid back down. “He didn’t leave the ruins, I’d have been able to see him, so he must still be here. And if he didn’t go out, maybe he went in.”
“In?” Rodney repeated. “To the ruins?”
“He must have,” said Grodin.
“Stay here,” Sheppard ordered. He checked the two guns in his shoulder holster, then walked to where the other men had entered the underground chambers and climbed down.
The three scientists looked at each other for a moment, then hurried to follow.
He didn’t seem surprised, just scowled and lit a torch to light their way. After a few yards, Jeannie found a second torch and lit it, too.
“We should split up,” she suggested.
“No,” said Sheppard. “We should-” But she and Grodin were already gone. “Dammit.”
Rodney frowned. “There are no other exits. They must have found a secret passage.”
“That’s all we need,” Sheppard muttered. “You, stay close.”
They continued through the maze of corridors, until Rodney began to hear a strange scuffling noise. “Gaul?” he called.
There was no answer.
The noises continued, growing louder. It was somehow darker as they walked, until Sheppard’s torch spluttered and went out. As their eyes adjusted to the dark, Rodney could see a human-shaped figure that looked like…
“Gaul?”
It was him, but Rodney could see why he hadn’t recognized him - he looked at least thirty years older, gray-haired and wrinkled.
“Gaul,” Rodney said again. “Are you all right?”
“All… right?” the other man repeated. “I’m fine. I’m hers.”
Rodney frowned and reached for him, but Sheppard grabbed his arm, yanking him back. “Don’t touch him.”
“You can be hers, too,” said Gaul.
“What…?” Rodney said, but another figure moved from the darkness.
For a moment, the feminine shape made him think that Jeannie had found them again, but then she caught a slice of slanted light and he realized that it was the mummy - walking upright, though still as skeletal as before.
Her lipless mouth opened and she rasped, “Lanteus?”
“What?” repeated Rodney.
She advanced toward them and her bony hand brushed Gaul’s shoulder. He gasped, skin contorting and wrinkling even as they watched, and the mummy’s skeleton seemed to solidify.
Sheppard seemed to regain his senses. He drew his gun and fired at the mummy, but the bullet passed right through, to impact the wall behind her.
The mummy scowled. “Lanteus,” she said.
There was a scuffling behind them - Sheppard turned, guns raised, but it was only Jeannie and Grodin, who stopped short.
“Is that…?” Jeannie began.
“Yes,” said Sheppard. He grabbed Rodney’s arm, turning them around. “We’re going.”
“But Gaul-” started Grodin.
The other man was still standing there, stunned. Sheppard sighed and grabbed Gaul, too, shoving him at his friend and pushing them all back toward the corridor.
“What about-” Rodney tried.
“We’re getting out of here, now,” snapped Sheppard, and they all obeyed.
At every turn, Rodney expected something to jump out at them, more mummies or evil spirits or a dozen other things he would have sworn he didn’t believe in. The light grew brighter as they neared the surface and he breathed a sigh of relief - only to let out a yelp at the sight that met them.
The warriors who had attacked them the night before were standing in the middle of the ruins, calm and quiet in the morning sun. Their leader, the woman who had spoken to Sheppard, stood at their center, scowling.
“You have woken her,” she said.
“We did not,” Rodney snapped, then, “Who?”
“The great evil,” she said. “For a thousand years, we Athosians have guarded the City of the Ancestors, to ensure that the great evil, the priestess, would never rise again. And you have woken her.”
“We didn’t mean to,” offered Jeannie.
The woman sighed. “If your friend is taken to a hospital, he may yet survive. We will take you back to Cairo. Then, you will leave our country and never return.”
“I-” Rodney began, but Sheppard elbowed him.
“Absolutely.”
*
John’s duffle, already packed when they left their campsite, was the only luggage he had with him, so he started to pack Rodney’s things.
“We’re not leaving,” the archaeologist protested, unpacking his shirts again.
“Did you listen to anything Teyla said on the ride back?” John asked.
Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tegan, was the leader of the Athosians. During their ride, she had explained her people’s mission, guarding the buried ancient city and the life-draining evil it contained. Which they had now released.
“I… heard… some of it,” Rodney hedged.
“Then you know why we have to get out of here.”
“And give up my discovery? We just need to come back with more people, more resources. The Bainbridge Scholars will have to let me join them now!”
“Do you hear yourself?” John demanded, and dumped an armload of books into the suitcase. “The doctors said Gaul will never fully recover. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not,” said Rodney, taking the books out again.
“Fine,” snapped John. “Fine. Stay here. See if I care.”
He stalked out of the room.
But the problem was, he did care. He cared what happened to that infuriating archaeologist, when he’d been so careful not to care about anyone since…
John walked out of the hotel and across the street to a bar. He had been a frequent patron, once, and he still recognized quite a few of the people there - including the older man at the bar, who scowled at him.
“Sheppard.”
“Everett,” he replied.
“Haven’t seem you around.”
John shrugged and gestured for a drink. “Got arrested.”
“Hmm,” said Everett, and the two men drank in silence.
A third man slid into a seat at the bar - Grodin - to join the silent drinking.
John set his shot glass on the bar and gestured for another. When it was full again, he reached for it, then frowned.
The liquid was rippling, the ripples growing wider, and John realized that the whole room was shaking. Glasses behind the bar rattled, pictures on the wall clattered, and the crystal chandelier jingled dangerously. The windows at the top of the high ceiling, which had been letting in the bright afternoon light, grew suddenly dim.
“Sheppard,” said Everett, still scowling. “Somehow, I know this is your fault.”
“How could I-?” John protested, but at that moment, Jeannie burst into the bar.
“Sheppard!” she cried. “Sheppard, he’s dead!”
“What?” said John. “Who’s dead?”
“Gaul. Mer kept talking about going back to Atlantis, so I thought Gaul might be able to talk him out of it. But when I went to see him, he was…”
“He was dead,” John guessed.
“He looked like a mummy,” she said. “Like he’d had the life sucked out of him.”
“Because he did,” said a voice. Teyla stood in the doorway, looking somber. “The evil, the priestess risen from the dead, is here in this city. With the life force she has taken from Dr. Gaul, she has already been able to shake the earth and darken the sky. She will have the strength to drain others and then…”
“Then what?” asked Jeannie.
“Great calamity,” Teyla said, darkly.
“Okay, so we don’t want that,” said John. “How do we stop her? What does she want?”
Teyla considered. “She is still weak. She will need to drain several more people to become strong enough for her ritual.”
“Ritual?” repeated Grodin.
“It is written that she vowed her revenge on the Pharaoh Lanteus, her brother. When he found out that she had been consuming the lives of others, he sealed her beneath Atlantis.”
“O…kay,” said Jeannie. “Wait, Lanteus? In the city, when Gaul… the first time, you know… she called Mer ‘Lanteus’.”
“She must be confused,” said John. “But if she’s mistaken McKay for her brother and her goal is revenge…”
“I fear you are correct,” Teyla agreed.
John tossed some coins onto the bar and checked his guns. “Jeannie, get Grodin to safety.”
“What?” she said. “He’s my brother, I’m coming with you!”
“And I’m not staying here alone,” Grodin protested.
Everett waved as they left. “Have fun, kids…”
*
After Sheppard left, Rodney continued packing, muttering to himself. Mummies and curses - yes, they had seen something difficult to explain, but that was no reason to run off like scared children. Scientific discoveries were not for the faint of heart, and Rodney was not a coward.
Mostly.
He folded another stack of shirts into his suitcase, then heard a noise in the small sitting room outside his hotel bedroom. He expected it to be Jeannie, back to try to talk him out of this expedition again, but there was only the sounds of someone in the room beyond.
“Jeannie?” he called.
She didn’t answer.
“Jeannie, whatever you say, I’m not giving up,” said Rodney.
There was still no answer.
“Jeannie?”
Frowning, Rodney left his suitcase and opened the door. Someone was standing at the window, and turned when he came in. “Hello, Dr. McKay.”
“Hello… Ford, wasn’t it?”
Ford smiled. “Yes.”
“Good, good. Was there something you needed?”
“Me?” the other man said. “No, nothing I need. But my mistress…”
“Your…” Rodney began.
The room began to shake, pictures rattling and lamps flickering, as the sky outside darkened. Then, the door burst open, and a woman entered. Her skeletal form seemed worse in daylight, the protruding bones more noticeable now that she had gained flesh in places.
“Lanteus,” she said. “I shall have my revenge.”
“I’m not Lanteus,” Rodney protested, but she didn’t seem to hear him.
“You are a fool, brother. But I have need of you - with your life force, I can return to my former glory and take the kingdom that should have been mine.”
“You can’t-” Rodney tried again, but she advanced toward him, hand outstretched.
Now that there was flesh on it, he could see a wicked orifice of some kind across her palm - and he knew he wanted no part of it. He backed away, until he hit the far wall.
“I…”
There was the sound of running feet from the corridor outside, then a sudden gunshot. The mummy jolted with the impact - not hurt, but annoyed - to glare at Sheppard, who stood in the open doorway, gun still raised.
“Get away from him!” the major shouted.
The queen scowled. “I need him, but I do not need you.” She turned to Rodney. “Come with me, Lanteus, and I will let these insignificants live.”
“Don’t, Rodney,” snapped Sheppard.
“I…” Rodney said again.
She raised her hand again and before anyone could stop her, she had seized Grodin. He gasped, skin wrinkling as they watched.
“No!” Rodney shouted. “No, I’ll go with you.”
“Don’t, Rodney,” Sheppard repeated.
“I’ll go with you,” Rodney said.
The queen smiled. “Excellent. But I shall need nourishment for the journey…”
She seized Grodin again, draining the last of his energy, and he slumped to the ground, dead.
“You-” Rodney began, but there was a sudden burst of wind and they were gone.
*
Everett - former pilot of the RAF - was still sitting at the bar where they’d left him.
It took a few minutes to convince him that John - joined by Jeannie and Teyla - were serious about needing him to fly them to a previously-mythical city in the middle of the desert, but he agreed.
The old biplane had clearly seen better days, but it did its job. At least, until they were close enough to the city for the queen to see them. A huge dust cloud rose up, shaped like her hand with the life-sucking orifice. It was too much for the tiny prop-driven machine - within walking distance of Atlantis, it went down, dumping its passengers into the sand.
“Sound off,” John said.
“I’m alive,” said Jeannie.
“I am unhurt,” Teyla said.
Everett didn’t reply. John struggled to his feet and jogged back to the plane. Its pilot was still strapped into his seat, unmoving.
“Is he…?” Jeannie asked.
The plane shifted suddenly, making John leap back, then sank steadily under the sand.
“Dead,” he said, softly.
“We still have our task,” said Teyla, not unkindly. “Let us go.”
The city was eerily silent as they entered. Torches had been lit in the campsite, leading down into the large underground chamber they had discovered first. They crept through the passages, to another large chamber they hadn’t been in before. It was clearly important, a large stone table in the center with statues and carvings all around.
Rodney was lying on the table, wrists bound but clearly alive and awake.
The queen, now dressed in a flowing gown, was almost entirely solid, but hardly human-looking. Her skin was pale, as was her hair, and she had odd markings on her face. When she smiled, her teeth were sharply pointed.
“Lanteus,” she said, holding the Codex of Atlantis. “The hour of your downfall has come.”
“I am not Lanteus!” Rodney shouted.
Jeannie nudged John’s shoulder. “We need that Codex. If we raised this thing, there must be something in there to un-raise it.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “You get it. I’ll distract her.”
“You’ll what?” said Jeannie, but he had already stepped out into the open.
John raised his gun and fired at the queen. As before, it had no physical effect, but she turned to look at him, leaving the Codex on the table.
“Acolytes,” the queen said. “Defend your mistress.”
Ford stepped out into the open as well, then the carvings on the wall rattled and came to life - the mummies of the followers who had been buried with the priestess.
“Now what?” said John.
“We defeat them,” Teyla told him. She drew two wooden sticks from her robe and attacked the nearest acolyte.
Being undead, they were hard to defeat. John’s bullets did nothing and he soon ran out, anyway. When he collided with a statue, he snagged the sword from its hand and that gave much better results. Teyla’s sticks fared much better from the start, but there were so many acolytes that it was an uphill battle.
Then Jeannie yelled, “Got it!”
The queen turned to look at her and she quickly dodged out of the way, the codex under her arm.
“Now what?” she asked.
“Find the reversal spell,” said John.
“It’s not magic,” Rodney protested. “And could one of you untie me?”
John was closer - he ducked around an acolyte who, thanks to Teyla, was missing one arm, and used his sword to sever the ropes binding Rodney. He pulled Rodney out of the way of another acolyte, then snagged his fallen sword for the archaeologist.
Rodney was clearly unskilled with the weapon, but he held his own and they faced the rest of the enemy together.
“I need the key!” yelled Jeannie.
“Where is it?” John asked.
Rodney pointed. “She still has it.”
“Great,” John muttered. “I’ll distract her.
The queen was still standing by the wall where her acolytes had emerged, and he charged at her, sword raised.
She held up her hand again, but instead of trying to drain his energy, she projected some kind of telekinetic energy to toss him backwards.
“That’s new,” he wheezed. “Rodney…”
“Got it!” he yelled. An acolyte came at him and he called, “Jeannie!”
She caught the key box and opened the book. “Oh, here it is!”
“Then read it!” Rodney yelled.
“Right, right… Sacredos reddere ad carcer.” There was a pause. “Nothing happened.”
“She does not have the blood of the Ancestors,” said Teyla. “To use the ancient magic, one must have the blood and the knowledge.”
“Well, who has that?” asked John.
She dispatched an acolyte to glare at him.
“Me?”
“We were both holding the Codex the first time,” said Rodney.
John sighed and made his way across the room to Jeannie. Sword in one hand, he used the other to touch the Codex. “Say it again.”
“ Sacredos reddere ad carcer,” Jeannie repeated.
In the dark chamber, it was easy to see how the book glowed. The queen shrieked as a sourceless wind swept through the room. It swirled around her, faster and faster, then passed clean through.
“It didn’t work,” Rodney said, disappointed.
“It did,” said Teyla. “She is mortal now.”
She might have been, but the queen appeared to have retained her powers. She used her telekinesis to push them all away.
“Sir…” said a voice.
Ford had crumpled when Jeannie had read the passage, but he got slowly to his feet.
“She still… has me,” he managed, with difficulty. “Once she’s…. gone… the city will… bury itself again. Let me… Go…”
“Ford…” said John, but his friend smiled.
“I can… do this… one last thing.”
“Okay,” John agreed, relunctantly.
Ford took a deep breath, then surged to his feet. He scooped up the sword of a fallen acolyte and dove toward the queen. She tried to push him away, but couldn’t - the sword ran her through, and both of them toppled to the ground.
Around them, the city began to shake.
“Go,” ordered John, grabbing Rodney’s hand and pulling him along, Jeannie and Teyla on their heels.
The shaking got worse as they ran back up through the corridors, tumbling dust and stones in their path. When they reached the surface, whole sections of wall were collapsing into the sand. It almost seemed as though they might not outrun the collapse, but then there was a loud booming noise and everything went still.
John stopped and looked back. The desert where the City of Atlantis was empty, not even the ruins left.
“Sheppard,” said Rodney. He seemed to realize they were still holding hands and tried to let go, but John didn’t let him. “You…”
“Yeah,” John agreed, and leaned in to kiss him.
“Puh-lease,” grumbled Jeannie.
Teyla merely smiled. “Come, my people have a camp nearby, where we can find transportation.”
“Sure,” John said and this time, Rodney kissed him.
THE END
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