Ad Noctum: Chapter 9

Telford laughed aloud—half delight, half wild despair—and, for a brief moment, under a setting alien star, the guy was very close to likable.

Chapter warnings: Stressors of all kinds. Violence. Injuries. Torture. Abduction. Anxiety. Panic. Purposefully insensitive discussion of mental health issues. Loss of agency. Thought control. Boundary problems. Manipulation. Gaslighting. References to suicide. Drug use. Death wishes. Indirect references to sexual assault. Blood. 

Text iteration: Midnight.

Additional notes: None.

Chapter 9

Volker tried his best to merge with the wall of glowing Goa’uld script. He tried to forget his pounding heart and his shaking hands and how just really hot he was right now. He tried to forget how close the walls were, how they pressed in, warm and dark and on more sides than a hollow cube should have. The place where his neck met his shoulders sensed the threatening crush of all the soil and water above.

On the floor, the only Fields Medalist Dale Volker would ever meet his whole life long was, probably, bleeding to death. 

Yeah, so things weren’t really going that well?

“Airlocks are built for transit,” Volker whispered into the warm, dark press of air. “They just are. That’s their whole point.”

Tapes Guy was on his side. Dr. Daniel Jackson (bless his soul and his home and everyone he’d ever loved) had helped Volker translate each glowing symbol on the dark wall.

Complete translation hadn’t gotten him anywhere.

“I’m thinking maybe you just try something.” Telford crouched over Rush, his head angled down.

“I have concerns about that.” Volker tried to keep his tone even. “I have strong concerns about that. Looking at what these readouts say—remembering what Rush did—I.” His throat closed.

He had a building suspicion. He wasn’t sure if he should say it aloud. Probably not. But it was hard to be alone in his own head with this particular hypothesis. His eyes burned. The symbols on the wall blurred. It was hard to swallow.

“Tell me,” Volker said, “everything you know about the connection between Goa’uld technology and Ancient technology.”

“Dale, we don’t have time for this,” Telford replied. “He’s not gonna make it. You need to try something.”

Volker had tried. The readouts on the wall were displays only. Not interfaces. And yet, somehow, Rush had navigated them. He’d swiped simultaneously across unrelated informational displays. Two arcs. Volker had spent the last fifteen minutes translating everything he could see. The area where Rush had swept his hands contained multiple readouts. Power. Time. Radiation. Total Refined Naquadria. Water Level Behind. Water Level Ahead.

Those readouts weren’t interactive.

“I know,” Volker pressed. “But this is important. Behind every Goa’uld device—is there always buried Ancient tech?”

“Behind most.”

Telford was smart. Telford would probably understand where he was going with this.

Would that be so bad?

Maybe.

Telford levered himself up to stand behind Volker. Too close. Way too close. He seemed to realize the proximity was stressful, and leaned against the back wall at an awkward angle, straddling Rush, who was flat on his back with his knees bent and wedged against the wall.

“What are we looking at here?” Telford asked.

“Power.” Volker pointed. “Time. Radiation. Total Refined Naquadria. Water Level Behind. Water Level Ahead. ”

“What happens when you touch Water Ahead?” Telford asked.

“Nothing.” Volker hit the glyphs.

Telford reached around him, trying a swipe of the fingers, mimicking Rush’s prior style. First clockwise, then counterclockwise, then with both hands in opposed arcs. There was no effect.

“He swiped across informational displays and opened the door.” Telford’s voice was flat in the darkness.

“Yep.” Volker cleared his throat. “So. You need to tell me everything you know about what the heck he did on the way in, including but not limited to: all unexplainable interfacing you’ve ever seen him do, his relationship with crystal versus circuit-based tech, and any theories you have on why and how he can detect powered-up Ancient devices.”

There was a long silence. The dark pressed down.

“I think it’s specifically the crystal component of Ancient tech that he can sense,” Telford said finally.

“Why do you think that?” Volker glanced down at his A-corder, which was trying to show him Rush’s vitals with a worried insistence.

“He likes to rescue crystals,” Telford said reluctantly.

“Wait, ‘rescue’ them?”

“Yeah,” Telford said. “He has a chivalrous way about him when he does it. He’ll go out of his way to pull them out of walls. Ships. Control panels. Engines. DHDs. Hyperdrives. Transport platforms. He’s a little more rational about it now. In the beginning, I used to have to drag him away from every control circuit we passed.”

In the beginning? It took all of Volker’s self-control not to chase that tangent down. But now, in the close, dark, and dwindling air, wasn’t the time.

“Do you know what kind of range he has? What’s the farthest he’s ever deviated to retrieve a crystal?”

“Fifty feet, maybe?”

“So he’s detecting them at a minimum range of fifty feet,” Volker murmured. “Presumably, paneling is no obstacle.”

“What does that mean?”

Taken together, it meant Rush could remotely detect certain power running through crystals and could induce current in crystalline arrays using his hands. If he could induce current, he could alter the electroconductive properties of his skin surface, which in turn meant he might be able to alter the electroconductive properties of his whole body. If he could do that, he might be able to create electromagnetic fields. He might be able to warp existing field lines.

Volker was pretty sure that he shouldn’t say any of that to Telford.

“Have you seen him do anything like this before?” Volker asked.

“A cross-menu swipe is pretty subtle,” Telford said.

“As a physical action, yes,” Volker admitted. “But we should have realized what he was doing didn’t make sense. Any other instances where you’ve seen him shortcut through the usual laws of physics? Open doors he shouldn’t be able to open?”

Telford laughed once, and it was almost a sob.

Volker stared into the dark.

“I’ve never seen a door that could hold him,” Telford whispered.

“Okay.” Volker looked at his A-corder, dismissed the tenth notification about Rush’s vitals, seated the device firmly in his palm, and wrapped his fingers around it. He placed his other hand flat on the wall, in the remembered center of the double arc Rush had swept out on their way down.

//Okay, little guy. I need you to help me talk to the crystal array in the wall.//

Miraculously, a schematic diagram appeared: crystal and circuitry. The crystals were bright nodes of glowing color. The circuitry was dark and linear, superimposed over diffuse light. He saw the stylized coils of inductors, the plates of capacitors, the unidirectional arrows of diodes. 

“HA!” Volker shouted. “Oh my god, that’s the wall!” He looked over his shoulder at Telford, holding up the display. “That’s the wall!!! I love this thing.”

“Okay.” A little life came back into Telford’s voice. “So, does this mean you can get the hatch open?”

“Maybe?” Volker said. “I don’t know. It’s progress.”

Volker sent the A-corder a wave of pure gratitude.

It rainbowed at him, then tried to show him Rush’s vitals.

//I know he’s in trouble, buddy. We gotta get out of here so we can fix him.//

The A-corder dismissed Rush’s vitals and returned to the crystal and circuit diagram.

Volker pictured the tunnel ahead of the airlock. The way it sloped up from the door. The two down-branching side passages on either side of the hatch. That had to be where the water would drain. He imagined, very clearly, the water draining away to leave the hatch clear.

The A-corder showed him what had to be a flow of charge—small cobalt particles transited a loop. Then it flashed an alternate pathway in a bright aquamarine overlay.

“Seems promising,” Telford said, following along over his shoulder.

“It is,” Volker said. “I think it’s saying we need to interrupt the ongoing flow of current and induce the other pattern. Presumably, that will clear the way ahead.”

Volker tried moving the hand he had in contact with the wall, sweeping it over the informational displays, watching the flow of charge.

Nothing happened. 

Probably because he had a normal human hand and was separated from the crystal lattice by a layer of insulated paneling.

“You think we can maybe open up this wall?” he asked.

“Doubtful,” Telford replied. “I don’t see any pieces to pry. This is one solid unit with the displays built in.”

“Well, that’s an OSHA violation,” Volker muttered.

“I’ll be sure to pass that along to the Fourth House leadership.”

//Can you help me, buddy?// Volker pressed the A-corder against the gold display and swept the device in a slow arc. //Can you induce current in a sister-circuit?//

He saw a faint oscillation in the flow of charge. He slowed down and changed direction, arcing the device along the planar surface of the wall, watching charges interrupt, jump, and reverse flow.

“This is gonna work,” Volker breathed. He zeroed in on the shallow-sea color of the pattern he wanted and strengthened it with small movements, until, with a final blue-on-blue oscillation, a new flow of charge established itself. He pulled the A-corder away from the wall, and watched, mouth open, as the number readouts for Water Ahead ticked downward.

“Shit, Dale,” Telford said, watching the numbers. “Did you just—”

A pressure change pulsed deep in Volker’s ears.

The outer hatch unsealed with a crack.

“You did,” Telford whispered, genuine shock bleeding into his tone. He stepped around Volker and cranked the door open. “Nice work.” When he swung the hatch wide, water still streamed around its edges.

A blast of cooler, fresher air hit like a life preserver to the face. 

Volker dove through the opening, his boots splashing in the water that drained away on either side of the hatch.

He bent over, hands on knees, the A-corder trapped between his palm and his thigh. He pulled in deep, aching breaths. His eyes burned with unshed tears.

//Thanks,// he told the little device with all the gratitude and relief he could put into the thought. 

Between his fingers, it flashed a happy sequence of aquamarine, sunstone, and lavender. 

“How’s Rush?” Volker looked back over his shoulder at Telford.

“Not great.” Telford knelt inside the hatch, his ear pressed to the mathematician’s chest. “Small chance I took his lung down.”

“Oh. Well, I know I’m new at this, but here’s a thought: maybe next time don’t shoot him.” Volker glared back over his shoulder.

“Couldn’t risk him being taken as a host.” Telford grunted as he pulled America’s Most Vanished Cryptographer into a fireman’s carry. “And he was asking for it.”

“Thanks so much for choosing me instead,” Volker replied. “In related news, this is mine now.” He held up the A-corder.

“Hazard pay?” Telford staggered as he settled Rush’s weight across his shoulders. “Seems fair.”

They emerged into a humid twilight. The local star, red gold, was slipping beneath the dark tree line. The standing water of the swamp was a deep gray-green in the fading light. Above, alien bats dived in arcs, hunting night insects.

Volker and Telford stopped on the threshold of the refinery, eyeing the wet slog to the tel’tak.

“Maybe take a look with the ALD,” Telford said, breathing hard. His sweat-soaked hair was plastered to his forehead. He shifted his grip on Rush. “Make sure we’re clear—no surprises waiting on or around the ship.”

“We’re calling it an ‘A-corder’.” Volker flinched as a dun-colored moth the size of his palm flitted past his face. “We’re probably clear?” The A-corder pulsed with thousands of glowing dots. “I mean, this is a jungle, so—” he shrugged and showed Telford the screen. 

Telford huffed a sigh and splashed down into shallow water and tangled reeds. “Once we’re aboard, I’ll do an internal sensor sweep. You just—do your best with Rush until I confirm we don’t have any stowaways.”

“Do my best?” Volker slogged through mud that was determined to pull his boots off his feet. “I have no medical training. At all.”

“You’ve watched ER, right? Grey’s Anatomy?” Telford slipped in the reed-laced muck. “Little help?” he grunted.

“Scrubs.” Volker got an arm under Rush’s chest and shoved him back into position across Telford’s shoulders. “I watched Scrubs.”

Telford snorted and resumed sloshing through shin-deep water. “Most accurate one. You’re about ten times more qualified to help than Cousin Dale of the Sixth House.”

“I don’t—”

“Plus,” Telford continued, grim and cheerful, “if he dies, you and I won’t have a very long shelf life either, so—”

“Thanks,” Volker said. “Thank you so much. You really know how to ruin a nice sunset, I’ll give you that.”

Telford laughed aloud—half delight, half wild despair—and, for a brief moment, under a setting alien star, the guy was very close to likable. 

They boarded the tel’tak, tracking mud and radioactive water up the cargo bay ramp. Zats in hand, eyes watchful, they headed straight for the workroom. Volker swept the table clear, saving a laptop with one hand before sending everything else to the floor in a clatter of nonessential devices and swirls of loose paper.

Telford laid Rush on the cleared surface. “Med kit’s all the way in the corner. I’ll seal the door to this room until the internal scan is done. Keep your zat in reach.” With that, he was gone.

Volker looked at Rush, really looked, for the first time since they’d traversed the airlock.

The mathematician’s left side was covered in blood. There was a thin trail of red drops on the floor between the door and the table. His skin was pale. His nail beds and lips had a dusky blue tint. Probably being carried through an underground chemical refinery slung over a shoulder would be hard on anyone’s cardiovascular system, even if they didn’t have a gunshot wound.

Volker had never seen anyone die.

But it didn’t seem out of the question, here. 

First things first: hand on zat, Volker did a quick inspection of the room, popping open the few crates that might have been large enough to fit a stowaway. Once he was satisfied the room was clear, Volker dragged the med kit within easy reach of the central table, then opened it. 

It was fifty percent Alliance, fifty percent Air Force, and one hundred percent an overflowing, disorganized mess.

“Okay.” Volker pulled out clear winners—gauze, a suture kit, alcohol— and set them on the table beside Rush. He found a stethoscope threaded around the edge of the kit’s interior, and he worked that free as well.

He turned back to Rush.

The next step would probably be exposing his shoulder so Telford could stitch it up.

Getting the mathematician’s good arm out of a fitted leather jacket while he was unconscious—while simultaneously not disrupting the crap bandaging job that was, maybe, keeping at least some blood where blood should be—seemed hard.

“Um,” Volker whispered, thinking of the knife he had strapped to his ankle. “How pissed would you be if I cut you out of your cool, Time Lord coat?”

Very pissed, probably. 

Volker really didn’t want to take another trip to Rolan to get Rush a replacement outfit. He started trying to work the collar of the jacket up and over, toward Rush’s good side, without disrupting Telford’s belted bandaging job.

This wasn’t easy. 

A little more work confirmed it was, in fact, impossible for one person, especially given that even minor shifts in Rush’s position made the bleeding worse.

“You know what? Forget it,” Volker muttered, pulling the knife out of his boot. “You don’t want your clothes sliced up? Maybe don’t take us on a field trip to meet murderous brain worms. Maybe don’t get shot. Maybe don’t spend fifteen minutes downloading a database and theorizing about radioactivity while you’re bleeding to death. Also, maybe don’t give me a knife.”

He sawed through the leather of Rush’s jacket sleeves, unbuckled the seven buckles on his Drow armor, which, now he was handling it, really seemed more like a woman’s corset than a man’s vest, then cut through his undershirt. Volker looked critically at the sodden remains of his own shirt, held in place by Telford’s belt. He wasn’t touching that blood-soaked mass of belted-together clothing and shoulder until Telford was ready to go with the sutures, or whatever ‘Wilderness Medicine’ skills he was gonna whip out to save the day.

“I’m guessing,” Volker muttered, “that if you were awake right now, you’d be trying to get me to analyze the brand new data collection you almost killed us all for.” He searched the inner pockets of Rush’s cut-apart coat, coming up with an assortment of small crystals, a set of jeweler’s tools, and a silver lighter before he hit the pocket with the solid-state drive. Volker slipped it into his own jacket, then began looking for other problems to fix.

Rush’s skin temperature was way below normal. Volker fished around in the first-aid kit and found a USAF heat-reflective blanket and wrapped it around the mathematician as best he could.

He pulled out the A-corder.

//Okay buddy, anything to add?//

As though the device had been holding itself back, the display exploded into information, presumably about Rush. The heart rate was pretty easy to interpret. Way too fast. But the rest of it was totally unreadable.

“This is feeling a little aspirational,” Volker murmured. “I don’t know numbers, man. Or letters. Can you show me the problem graphically?”

What he got in response to that request was—weird.

Weird and beautiful. 

A rainbow network of nodes shone beneath a ghostly wave function. As he watched, a central node went dark.

“I don’t know what this means,” Volker whispered. “Seems bad though.”

In the central darkness, the small waveform of Rush’s too-fast heartbeat appeared.

“Rush is the dark node?” Volker frowned. “He shouldn’t be dark, is what you’re saying? Is this the Ancient equivalent of you trying to tell me that Little Timmy fell down a well? I totally know, man. We’re gonna fix him. Best as we can.”

The doors hissed open.

“We’re clear.” Telford strode into the room. “No new devices. No stowaways, no lifeforms in close proximity other than a flock of what I’m assuming are carnivorous flying monkeys, but I’m betting that if they could chew through metal they’d already have done it. So.”

“Okay,” Volker said. “Great.”

Telford crossed to the table and picked up the stethoscope. “Now would be the time to pray he’s not bleeding into his pleural space.” He slid the earpieces into place.

“Pleural space?” Volker echoed.

“The space between his lung and chest wall.” Telford listened to Rush’s chest in several spots. He locked eyes with Volker, relief in every line of his face. “He didn’t drop his lung. Thank god. Blood loss we can fix.”

“We can?” Volker asked.

“Yeah.” Telford set the stethoscope aside. “The LA has a synthetic blood substitute. It’s freeze-dried artificial red cells and basic serum proteins. Wholly synthetic, so it works across all humanoid blood types. When it comes to biomedical engineering, the LA is decades ahead of the Air Force. At least decades. Bottom of the kit. The maroon packaging.”

“How many?” Volker knelt to dig through the supplies.

“Let’s start with two,” Telford said. “The liquid and solid components are separated within the packaging. Just separate the IV tubing, then break and shake.”

Volker came up with one of the maroon packages. He separated the capped needle and associated IV tubing from the opaque packaging, then stepped closer to Rush, standing across the table from Telford. Volker draped the tubing across the mathematician’s chest, where Telford could easily reach it. Within the sealed package, he felt a bubble of liquid surrounded by a fine powder. He pressed and twisted, breaking the internal capsule and mixing the components. Then he shook and inverted the package, making sure all the dry powder was uniformly suspended. As he mixed, the bag of synthetic blood warmed in his hands.

“It’s exothermic?” Volker asked. “How? Aren’t we just putting protein in suspension?”

“Never thought about it.” Telford swabbed the crook of Rush’s elbow with an alcohol wipe. “Maybe it’s the packaging?” He grabbed the tubing, uncapped the needle, inspected it, and expertly inserted it into a vein in Rush’s arm.

“You do blood before stitching?”

Telford smiled faintly as he taped the LA needle in place.

“What?” Volker asked.

“You’d have done great on a gate team, is all. And yes. If someone’s actively dying from blood loss you replace blood volume before anything else. Ideally they’d happen at the same time.” He opened a sterile suture tray. “Put a little pressure on the packaging to try to drive it into his system faster.”

“What’s a gate team?” Volker squeezed the packet, and synthetic blood ran through clear tubing. Disturbingly, it was mostly colorless; if anything, it was more violet than red.

“The Air Force sends exploratory teams through the stargate.” Telford’s voice was low, almost wistful. “Four people, usually.”

“You’re sure this is for humans, right?” Volker skeptically eyed the pale purple liquid flowing into Rush’s veins.

“Yes,” Telford said. “I’ve used it myself. On myself. It’s safe.”

“The LA doesn’t seem like the most science-forward organization,” Volker offered.

“It’s not,” Telford admitted. “At least—not at this point in its history. But this synthetic blood equivalent has been in use since before the US Constitution was penned, so,” Telford shrugged, “it’s got as good a track record as you’ll find without the FDA signing off.”

Telford moved methodically through cauterizing and stitching the entrance and exit wounds in Rush’s shoulder. As Telford worked, he dropped a miniature library of tips Volker hoped he’d never need. But, given their recent luck, Volker would probably end up using all of them before next Tuesday, whenever the heck Tuesdays were.

Telford had just finished a professional bandaging job on Rush’s shoulder, and Volker had very nearly finished squeezing a third unit of synthetic blood into the man, when the mathematician finally showed some signs of coming around.

Rush stirred in his bloody nest of cut-away leather and open Drow armor. His eyelids fluttered open. He was still pale, but the blue was gone from his lips and nail beds. He looked way better. Really awful, but way better.

“Hi.” Telford’s tone was light and friendly. “Nick. You with us?”

Rush blinked at him, then his eyes flicked over to Volker.

“Hey, man,” Volker said. “How’s it going?”

Rush narrowed his eyes at the pair of them, then tried to sit.

“Nope.” Telford pushed him back. “Say words.”

“Fuck off,” Rush suggested in a cracked whisper.

“More words.” Telford pulled the IV line out of Rush’s arm and pressed a piece of gauze to the small injury.

“Fuck off, David.”

Volker dropped the empty blood bag on the floor with the others; dealing with uncapped needles could be a Problem for Later.

“Guess how Cousin Dale got us out of that hatch,” Telford said.

“No,” Rush rasped.

Telford gave Rush a small smile. “You must feel like shit.”

Rush used his good hand to drag a fluid checkmark through the air, then made another attempt to sit.

“No,” Telford said, “you can’t go wedge yourself under the hyperdrive. You have to stay out here for at least twenty four hours.”

“Six.”

“Twelve.”

“Four.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“See you later.” Rush rolled off the table and landed in a crouch.

Volker sighed.

“Do you have,” Telford pinched the bridge of his nose with two fingers, “any idea how difficult it was to get you out of that death trap? And then volume-resuscitate you? Stitch up an exit wound?”

“Condolences.” Rush reseated his designer glasses.

“Nick—”

“Don’t talk to me,” Rush snarled, shirtless and shivering, half his body covered with his own drying blood.

“Don’t talk to you?” Telford repeated. “Don’t talk to you? You purposefully led us straight to an enemy operative—”

“So.” Volker decided to get in there before Rush and Telford murdered each other. Addressing Telford, he said, “In fairness? You just shot the guy. I think it’s pretty reasonable if he doesn’t want to hang out with you right now.”

“I shot him for his own good,” Telford said with pained indignation.

“Next time,” Rush hissed, “shoot Volker. I’m sure he’d’ve shown y’adequate appreciation.”

“Next time maybe no one shoots anyone?” Volker suggested.

“For the last time. We’re calling him Dale,” Telford said.

Rush braced his bad shoulder with his good arm and glared mutinously up at Telford.

Telford shut his eyes and pulled in a breath. “I’m going to get us off this planet before our ship sinks in a tar pit or gets swarmed by radioactive monkeys. Don’t bleed to death by yourself, please. For Dale’s sake, if not your own?” Telford looked at Volker. “Stay with him, if you can stand it.” Then he turned and left the room.

Volker braced his hands against the table, strewn with medical supplies and the cut-apart, empty shell of Rush’s clothes. 

He tried to remember who he was. Who he had been. Who he wanted to be.

A big part of him wanted to leave Rush to his own devices. Go get his cat out of the bulkhead and sit in the dark with the A-corder, asking it questions, getting answers in light. 

But. A slightly larger part—

He straightened and walked around the table. He dropped into a cross-legged position next to Rush. 

“Hey man,” he said. “You’re, like, covered with blood.”

Rush nodded.

“You want to maybe get some of it off you? Put on regular-people clothes?”

Rush shook his head.

“Come on.”

“Fuck off,” Rush whispered.

“No. Sorry. You don’t get to tell me to fuck off. You can tell Telford to fuck off. That’s fine. I’m guessing he deserves it somehow. But you abducted me, okay? I’d have happily been fucking off for eternity if you hadn’t interfered. So try again.”

“Don’t be nice to me,” Rush whispered.

“I’ll be nice to you if I want to be nice to you.” Volker lifted his eyebrows. “More or less, I classify you as a colleague. A weird, scary colleague who ruined my life, lies to me on a regular basis, and leads me into radioactive death traps. All of this arguably falls within academic norms.”

Rush turned a laugh into an amused scoff.

“So yeah. I’m not going to let you sit shirtless on the floor covered in your own blood. It’s not collegial. Let’s get you cleaned up and let’s find you some real clothes. You can pay me back by entertaining my cat.”

Volker offered Rush his hand.

Reluctantly, Rush took it.

Volker pulled the guy carefully to his feet. Even though he kept the movement slow and predictable, Rush still had trouble staying steady, and he leaned heavily against Volker, struggling to get his feet beneath him.

“Synthetic blood is not as good as regular blood,” Rush informed him.

“Yeah,” Volker said. “It looked like he bought it on sale. But hey. You’re awake now. That’s definitely an improvement.”

“How’d y’get out of the airlock?” Rush whispered.

Volker started for the door, keeping his pace slow.

“Does Telford know?” Rush looked obliquely at him.

“Does he know you’re a technomage on the DL?” Volker replied. “Yeah. I’d say he knows. But I’d also say he doesn’t understand.”

Rush laughed once. Short and sharp.

“Are you human?” Volker asked casually, as they moved through the hall.

“What a question,” Rush whispered.

“You going to explain anything to me?” Volker hit the door control for the bathroom.

“No.” Rush’s eyes were closed, like maybe he was trying not to cry.

“Why not?” Volker helped Rush to sit on the closed alien toilet.

“Unanswerable,” Rush said.

“That’s already my least favorite word.” Volker unlaced Rush’s Space Pirate boots. “I’m guessing I’m really gonna start hating it pretty soon. Do answerable questions exist?”

“Probably.” Rush unbuckled his leather pants. “You’ll have to find them, though.”

Volker turned away to give him some privacy, then flipped on the shower. “I don’t mind that, I guess. Unrelated note: you need to not ruin Telford’s bandaging job. That guy’s had about as much as he can take for the day.”

“Yes well,” Rush muttered. Slowly, he stood, his good hand on the wall, and stepped into the shower.

“So are unanswerable questions always unanswerable?” Volker asked, facing the door. “Or does answerability vary?”

“Hmm.” Rush sounded surprised. “Insightful. It varies.”

“That’s pretty weird, man.” Volker tried to look at Rush without looking at him, and mostly ended up watching blood-tinged water swirl down the drain and into the recirculating system. “It also sounds like it’s not really in your control.”

Rush swayed, but recovered on his own.

“You want me to hold your glasses?”

“No.”

“Okay. The water’s running mostly clear. I’m going to get you a towel. Don’t fall over.” Volker opened the gold-handled cabinet beneath the sink, pulled out a towel, and got himself back in position just as Rush shut the water off.

As Rush stepped out of the shower, Volker wrapped the towel around the mathematician’s waist.

“I don’t think y’make good choices.” Rush leaned into him.

“Well,” Volker kept them both on their feet, “the feeling is mutual. You referring to anything in particular? Or just making conversation?”

Rush made a vague gesture with his good hand that encompassed everything currently happening. 

Volker helped him sit, then shut off the shower. “I’m pretty curious as to what you expected when you abducted a nice, midwestern astrophysicist to find you a radioactive planet.”

“Not this,” Rush whispered, shivering. “Y’don’t ask the right questions.”

“Oh yeah? What questions should I be asking? I’ve only got about a million. Help a guy make a ranked list.” Volker pulled a second towel from beneath the sink and used it to get some of the water out of the mathematician’s hair.

“Maybe—not why I came for you. But how.”

“How?”

“That one might get you somewhere,” Rush whispered, his glasses completely fogged over.

“How? What do you mean ‘how?’ You transported down and waited at my office,” Volker said, puzzled.

“Just when I begin to think you’re not completely hopeless,” Rush sighed. 

“How you came for me?” Volker repeated.

“That’s what I said. Speaking of how-questions, how did you get out of the airlock?”

“I used the A-corder to alter the flow of charges of the control crystals in the wall.”

“Hmm.” Rush smiled faintly. “Y’must have asked it very nicely.”

“It was a combination of asking and changing its spatial orientation. Sort of a Jerry Maguire helping-it-help-me situation.”

“That’s either very interesting or completely untrue,” Rush replied.

“Weird,” Volker said, wrapping the second towel around Rush. “I have that exact same thought about most of the things you say.” 

“Scintillating.”

“I’m keeping the A-corder. It’s mine now. Forever.”

“I see.” Rush pulled off superior amusement while shivering beneath two bath towels, both of which had seen better days. “How did it take that news?”

“Er, I haven’t told it yet.”

“Best of luck,” Rush said lightly.

“Ugh.” Volker pulled the little device out of his pocket and offered it to Rush. “Pretty sure it’s been worrying about you.”

The A-corder rainbowed yearningly at Rush. 

“Pathetic.” Rush smiled at it gently. He took the device from Volker and the display exploded into a mess of multi-hued data packed so closely it was unreadable.

Volker sighed with, yeah, maybe a touch of melodrama. “I’ll get you some clothes. Don’t go anywhere.”

He left the bathroom, trying to talk himself out of the semi-inappropriate sadness that came with the A-corder’s obvious preference for Rush. This was probably how Telford felt all the time, dealing with Ancient tech. Why would the Ancients impose a genetic requirement, anyway?

He wouldn’t be surprised if his head imploded under the pressure of all he didn’t know.

Fluency with Goa’uld was still his number one goal. It had to be, right? If anything, the experience in the refinery highlighted this. What he’d known had helped him. What he hadn’t known—namely that Goa’uld hosts had naquadah in their blood—had nearly gotten him killed.

But.

If the Goa’uld had built their culture overtop of Ancient underpinnings, the importance of learning more about Ancient culture, technology, and language started to make a serious argument for taking the top spot. The A-corder had helped him. So much. Without it, Rush certainly would have bled to death inside that airlock.

So. Ancient tech had to be a close number two on the priority list.

Most of this learning would need to come from trusted sources. Which did not include the Fields Medalist with questionable abilities and a strange relationship to questions and answers. It also didn’t include Telford, who was pretty likable in an intense and scary way but who might be working for the LA instead of the Air Force, and who might be responsible for putting Rush in this situation in the first place.

So. Trusted sources. Volker could think of three.

1. Dr. Daniel “Tapes Guy” Jackson. Tapes Guy was, for sure, Air Force. He was a huge nerd. He had about a million books and videos, all of which seemed to be genuinely geared toward building a knowledge base for people like Volker—thrown into a scary, galactic-scale alien conflict where the risk of death was real and close and greater every day.
2. The A-corder. The A-corder had already taught him a huge amount in the half day he’d been holding it. What it might be able to show him in the privacy of a midnight cargo bay was—really promising. He needed to get that thing back from Rush. Even if only for an evening. Or five.
3. His own brain. He’d figured out Rush’s weird cross-panel current induction ability on his own, within a week of knowing the guy. Telford had been traveling with the mathematician for how long? Months. At least months. And he hadn’t noticed. Volker was pretty sure he could come up with more, a lot more, if he redefined Rush as a system to study rather than a pure antagonist. That probably went for Telford as well.

He hit the controls to the cargo bay and immediately went to the wall to let Mendelssohn out. The cat meowed at him reproachfully as Volker pulled the paneling back.

“I know.” Volker picked him up and settled him over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. But now you can have free run of the ship, buddy. Rush programmed the doors for you. Things are looking up in Space Cat Land.”

He pulled out a handful of cat food and set it on the floor. Mendelssohn looked at it disdainfully, and stayed in place on Volker’s shoulder, his claws digging into the leather of his jacket.

“Okay, I get it. You can hang out with me for a while. No problem. Sorry about the day in the bulkhead. Didn’t want you to get eaten by a carnivorous flying monkey though.”

Mendelssohn still over his shoulder, Volker knelt to open a bag he’d brought from Earth. “So how do you think Nupur is doing?” he asked the cat. “You think maybe she told the police about the P=NP Guy who stopped by suspiciously before my whole life got lit on fire? That’s a nice thought. Maybe it’ll get back to the Air Force, somehow.”

The cat meowed softly.

“Oh yeah?” Volker pulled out a t-shirt with a faded set of equations describing the foundations of electromagnetism, a pair of sweatpants, and a sweatshirt that zipped up the front.

“Can’t believe I’m giving this guy my clothes,” Volker muttered. “Though, I guess he did fight a guy to get my boots and jacket.”

Mendelssohn surveyed the world from Volker’s shoulder as they left the cargo bay. When he reentered the bathroom he found Rush, eyes shut, cleaning the mist off his glasses with the edge of a towel.

“Hey,” Volker said.

Rush opened his eyes and flinched back, his good hand coming up as if to ward something off.

“Whoa,” Volker said. “Just me. Sorry.”

Rush slid his glasses into place with a trembling hand.

Volker deposited Mendelssohn in the gold bowl of the sink. The cat meowed hopefully at Rush.

“He doesn’t have any food for you,” Volker informed the cat. “He’s wearing a towel. Can’t hoard someone else’s cat food when you’re wearing a towel.” He gathered the T-shirt, and, starting with Rush’s bad arm, he got it over the man’s head without much difficulty.

“These are your clothes.” Rush looked down at the equations on the shirt.

“Well, I don’t know where you keep your clothes.” Volker eased the first sweatshirt sleeve up and over the guy’s bad arm.

“I don’t like this,” Rush said. “Keep in mind that you and I are best classified as ‘enemies’.”

“Aw,” Volker said. “Am I making you feel guilty for literally burning my life down?”

“No,” Rush replied.

“Well, the more time I spend with you,” Volker said, kneeling to get the sweat pants around Rush’s ankles, “the more suspicious I am that you had a reason for doing what you did. What that reason is? How much sense it makes? Those are up in the air.”

“I don’t think now is a good time to speculate.” Delicately, Rush repositioned his glasses.

“I probably wouldn’t believe whatever you told me, anyway.” Volker helped the mathematician to his feet and pulled away the towel as Rush used his good hand to finish dressing himself.

“Dr. Volker,” Rush said, real warmth in his tone. “I think you’re finally catching on. And it’s been, what, only a bit over a week? Seems terribly quick, by your standards.”

“Shut up,” Volker said.

Rush picked up the A-corder and offered it to him.

“We’re not gonna make it cry?” Volker asked. “It obviously misses you when you’re gone.”

Rush’s gaze was searing, as though burning its way into Volker’s mind and heart. “So you understand?”

“Um.” Volker swallowed. “Not sure.”

“To create a machine that feels is a cruelty,” Rush whispered.

Volker’s mouth was dry. He looked at the little device in Rush’s hand.

“Do you know how long it was alone?” Rush asked.

“No,” Volker whispered.

“Ask it, sometime,” Rush murmured.

Gently, Volker picked up the device, his mind full of his own loneliest nights—in the cargo bay, at Caltech, in silent observatories at the tops of mountains, where giant mirrors collected starlight under thin atmosphere.

The A-corder’s display burst into the swirl of a spiral galaxy, the perspective rotating, drawing back, shifting, as though responding to inaudible music. 

“You sure you should give me this?” Volker asked.

Rush nodded.

Volker slid the little device into the inner pocket of his jacket, close to his heart. “Thank you.”

They looked at one another. Mist condensed again on the lenses of Rush’s glasses. Volker stayed silent, hoping the other man would say something else.

Instead, Rush’s knees buckled.

Volker stepped in to steady him, then ducked under Rush’s good arm to turn himself into a makeshift crutch. “Okay,” Volker said. “You think you can make it to the engine room? I’m guessing that if I can vouch for the fact that you’re not bleeding to death, Telford won’t drag you out of there.”

Rush nodded.

Mendelssohn meowed plaintively from the gold bowl of the sink.

“Come on, buddy,” Volker said. “You can get down. You’re a cat.” He stepped into the cooler air of the hallway, then steered Rush in the direction of the engine room.

Mendelssohn leapt from the sink to the top of the toilet, then to the floor and trotted at their heels. When Volker hit the door controls, the cat darted inside, ahead of them.

“Guess I’m not the only one who’s been curious about this place,” Volker said.

“Mmm,” Rush said, short and neutral.

Volker was pretty sure the guy was barely hanging on to consciousness.

They passed into a dim room, awash in soft stone light.

“Oh wow,” Volker breathed.

Pastel webs of crystal hung on the walls in filament-thin metal settings. Curtains of petal-shards—green and violet, blue and gray, rose and amber—were seated so delicately that any one of them could be plucked out by hand. Picked out like a flower. Loose stones flowed out of corners and piled around an illuminated pillar that had to be the drive itself.

The central drive column was an open, multicolored array made of spiraling crystal surrounded by airy, skeletal supports. Diffuse patterns of light spiraled through the drive: random, non-repeating, as though reflecting crystalline resistances to cosmic anisotropies.

This room—half sculpture, half hyperdrive engine—was the most intensely beautiful piece of intellectual and aesthetic labor Volker had ever seen.

“Rush,” he whispered. “Did you—make this?”

The mathematician used his good hand, draped over Volker’s shoulder, to drag a fluid checkmark through the air.

Volker guided him toward the shrine-like hyperdrive, where a small collection of blankets had been spread on the floor. He helped the guy lie down while Mendelssohn swirled through their ankles, batting at loose crystal on the floor.

“You okay?” Volker whispered, as Rush settled back against the blankets. “You’re not talking very much.”

Rush dragged another listless checkmark through the air.

Volker crouched over the mathematician. He lifted the sweatshirt and T-shirt to check Telford’s bandaging job. No sign of any bleeding. He pulled out the A-corder and focused on Rush. It showed him the rainbow network from earlier, Rush’s node bright and evolving with the rest of the light. 

“The A-corder seems to think you’re okay,” Volker whispered. “I’d feel better if you said something, though.”

“Inside the central column,” Rush said, “at its base, there’s a crystal. Red. Pull it out, won’t you?”

“Um,” Volker said. “What happens when I do that?”

Rush smiled faintly. “Nothing. I’ve not incorporated it into the drive.”

Volker shot him a skeptical look, but leaned over to inspect the array in the central column. Near the bottom was a translucent piece of red stone, its complex curves and planes suggesting a little flame, trapped within a crystal lattice. 

Volker reached in and gently pulled it free.

No immediately obvious disasters occurred.

He lifted it to the light for Rush’s inspection.

The mathematician nodded, then held out his hand.

Volker placed the crystal in his palm and Rush curled cool fingertips around its shaped surfaces. His hand dropped to the center of his chest.

It seemed like he just wanted to hold it. 

Volker felt an intense and unwelcome wave of sympathy. “How did Telford recruit you?”

“I was at UC Berkeley,” Rush murmured, his eyes closed. “Beautiful day.”

“Sun and wind,” Volker offered. “Coming off the water. Love it when that happens.”

“Quite. He’d set up an informational table on the quad.”

“Shut up.”

“I signed on the dotted line. Got a leather outfit and personality disorder in return.”

Volker rolled his eyes. “Thanks, man.”

“Stop looking for reasons to dislike Telford.” Rush cracked his eyelids and made more of an effort to put his sentences together. “It won’t work. He’s a likable man. He killed a Goa’uld barehanded before it chewed its way into your spine. Even I was impressed.”

“Yeah.” Volker diplomatically looked up at the ceiling, the only surface in the room not glowing with gentle light. “That didn’t win him all that many points with me.”

“Well there’s no accounting for taste.” Rush let his eyes fall closed.

“You don’t like Telford,” Volker murmured.

“‘Course I like ‘im. Haven’t vented him to space yet, have I?”

“I’m going to figure all this out.” Volker heard a surprising note of steel in his own voice.

“Y’may, at that, Dr. Volker. But go far enough,” he murmured, “and it’ll remake you.”

Without thinking, Volker placed a hand over his A-corder.

“Exactly,” Rush whispered, awash in the light of countless crystals.