The Lost and the Forgotten

Chapter 1

It wasn't what he had expected. An underground city, Major Jordan had reported, and John had pictured rolling metal blast doors, a vast, cavernous space and the rigid military control of the Genii. That, at least, might have felt familiar, and although he had never felt comfortable with the 'rigid control' aspect of any military force, it was something he could readily understand. So far, however, they had passed unchallenged, the locals apparently assuming that the situation of the Gate itself precluded the sudden arrival of a large invasion force; it was set at the end of a tunnel dug in solid rock, the walls only just wide enough for its installation, its orientation such that the event horizon had carved out a dent in the end wall. No room for darts, and little room for infantry, so that Ronon and Rodney had bumped into each other as they passed around the edge of the great circle, and had exchanged growls and snarls, which was at least partly their way of rebonding at the beginning of a mission.

At the end of the tunnel, ill-lit by a sparse sodium-orange glow, was no vista of buried grandeur, but simply an alley, running at right angles; metal underfoot, rock-cut entrances in the nearer side, the opposite wall a bare three yards distant, composed of mixed, patched materials, piled in a vertical, haphazard shantytown of random, organic chaos. There were no guards, no officials, not even a face at one of the many windows, or a movement on any precarious balcony. A warm wind blew, and brought with it the poison-rich scent of hydrocarbons and memories of subway stations. Water dripped everywhere; John realised that his hair was wet and moisture beaded and ran down the sleeves of his jacket.

"Oh, well, this is nice!"

"It doesn't have to be nice, McKay," John said, tension making his words short and clipped. "We're just here to find Major Jordan and his team."

"Oh, really?" Rodney's nerves found their usual outlet in sarcasm. "I wish I'd paid attention in the briefing now... Oh, wait, I did!"

Nobody responded, each knowing to allow Rodney his needed release.

"You getting anything on that?"

"No," said Rodney, using his sleeve to wipe waterdrops from the screen of his scanner.  "As I said in the briefing, if you'd been listening, what with interference from the surrounding rock, and all this packed-in, let's call it 'infrastructure', you're unlikely to get a clear signal from a sub-q, if any, which, in fact has proven to be the case!"

"John." Teyla's face looked grey in the orange lighting. She nodded toward a doorway, deeply shaded, on the rock-cut side of the alley.

"Ronon, watch our six," John said. He and Teyla approached the doorway, Rodney trailing behind, the useless scanner shoved roughly away into a pocket. A large drip landed on John's head; he could see droplets running down the walls, and lintels were fringed with the beginnings of stalactites.

"Buy a hat, mister? Ma'am?" The voice came out of the shadows and John could faintly make out the man's silhouette, the streetlight eerily highlighting his eyes and a flash of metal in his mouth. "Buy a smoke?"

"We are not here to trade," said Teyla. She introduced herself and the team, but the man didn't reciprocate. "We are looking for some friends of ours."

"Friends, you say?" His voice was guarded. "You'll be needing hats. Run-off don't get no better than this and many-a-time she's a good bit worse." He picked up a hat from the stack that leant against the wall. "See? Keep you dry. Well, drier anyway."

"No, thank you. Have you seen strangers, dressed like us? Weapons like these?"

"Can I see that?" Rodney interrupted. He took the proffered hat. "What is this? Trilby? Fedora?" He looked at John.