Mathématique: Chapter 80

Sure hadn’t taken long for everything to go sideways.

Chapter warnings: Stressors of all kinds. Grief. Physical injuries. Mental health challenges.

Text iteration: Witching hour.

Additional notes: None.

Chapter 80

Sure hadn’t taken long for everything to go sideways.

Young put his back against a wall panel with inlaid amethyst accents and tried to get his bearings.

It was tough. His brain was hell bent on showing him the instant replay of Rush and Shep causing about twenty seconds of energetic havoc in the gate room before collapsing at the base of the gate.

Those idiots.

They’d make, maybe, the most inspired, shortest-lived military/science axis in the history of the SGC. They’d go on a mission together over Young’s dead body. Shep was full-on nuts in a reasonable-looking package and Nick Rush was an enabler in the grand tradition of dynamite. Nitroglycerin.

Damn it.

He didn’t like being separated from his neighbor.

SG-68 and Eli milled around the triage bay, at loose ends and full of too much adrenaline to avoid making a nuisance of themselves. Keller’s staff was weaving around them with annoyed glances and whispers that told him they wouldn’t be allowed to stay for long if he didn’t start molding them into a shape that would mesh with a civilian command.

Because Atlantis was a civilian command; Young hadn’t heard so much as a whisper from Sheppard’s XO. Woolsey and Keller had called the shots from the moment Shep and Rush had hit the deck. No one had called in any military personnel. No one had seen the need.

That was one way to run things, he supposed.

They’d taken Rush and Sheppard to the infirmary, which stretched multiple levels inside the city’s central spire. SG-68 had been held at the door as “non-essential.”

His instinct was to throw his weight around. Carve a piece of turf.

But he had no idea what the turf looked like, other than whatever ground his neighbor was standing on.

“Sergeant,” Young said, “Lieutenant. Backs to the wall. I’m gonna get the lay of the land. You two stay here. If you get invited in, post up next to Rush’s bed and don’t get in the way.” He caught Ginn’s eye. “Find Keller. Introduce yourself as the civilian scientist from SG-68. Ask if you can shadow her while she works on the field adjustments for Rush’s technoswag. If she says yes, learn what you can.”

Ginn nodded. She scanned the room, tucked her hair behind her ears, and smoothed her face into a mask of calm purpose that looked Carter-inspired. With an authoritative stride, she walked into the sea-grotto depths of the infirmary. In her charcoal jacket and blue stripes, no one stopped her.

“I could—” Eli began, his eyes following Ginn.

“You’re with me,” Young said.

“Why?” Eli asked mutinously.

“Because we want Keller to like us,” Young growled.

The intern scowled. “Hey!”

“C’mon,” Young said. “You wanna help your boss? Stop fighting The Man long enough to map the terrain.” With that, he made for the infirmary doors. As he approached, colored glass slid wide to reveal a hall of silvered naquadah and amber stone. Water ran silently at the bases of the walls beneath silver grating.

Eli scurried after him. “Authority figures are all The Man until proven otherwise.”

“Good luck with that.” Young picked a direction and started walking. He leaned heavily into his cane. His back ached.

If Nick Rush planned to turn passing out into a personal hobby, and it sure seemed like he did, Young was gonna have to double down on his physical therapy.

“Do you have any idea where we’re going?” Eli asked.

“We’re gonna find the guy in charge,” Young said. “Hopefully that’s where Jackson’ll be.”

“Okaaaaaay, do you know where that guy is? If this city is anything like the Floating City of Promethia then one wrong turn can take you to a whole different area. Via, like, macro-level quantum tunneling?”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is I’m not sure wandering around a Magical City of Magicalness with no guide is the best idea?”

Young stopped and turned to consider the kid in his unzipped expedition jacket, his determined scowl, the anxiety he was trying to hide.

Irritation and sympathy warred for control of Young’s mouth. After the day he’d had, irritation won. “Zip your jacket.”

“No.” Eli’s eyes sparked. “I don’t work for you. YOU are NOT my boss. I work for Nick Rush. And I’m not gonna get myself lost on some unsecured Promethian Pier with NO RADIO because you wanted to find someone to YELL AT. I’m not here for the Air Force, okay? I’m not here for Intergalactic Wars,  I’m not here for J’Shep’s Cutie Math Martyr Routine, I’m not lining up to fight literal soul-sucking monsters, I don’t trust Uncle Sam or the US of A, or you. I’m here to look out for America’s Most Vanished Cryptographer. That’s what I was hired for, and that’s what I’m doing.”

Young gave the kid a faint smile.

“Ugh don’t smile at me like that. C’mon. That was a great speech.”

“It was.” Young looked down the long, empty hallway, stretching away on either side. “You and me are gonna do better as a team.”

Eli looked at him suspiciously.

“We gotta get access to your boss,” Young said. “We gotta figure out what’s going on with his brain so we can fix it. We gotta get his cortical suppressors off so he can get his memories back. And whatever’s going on involves Ancient tech on a high level. Agreed?”

“Yes,” Eli said cautiously.

“We need more than an angry intern with computer chops. You see that, right? We’ve gotta integrate into operations to get what we need.”

“A social engineering hack, then.” Eli looked at him with renewed interest.

“I’d prefer you didn’t call it that,” Young said. “But, uh, sure.”

“Play by the rules to subvert the rules,” Eli said, like an extra in a budget action movie.

“Again, I’m not wild about the phrasing.”

“Tactical charm?” Eli tried.

Young internalized his sigh. “Sure.”

“I can do that,” Eli said. “Also, in the game, the Control Room is this way.” He turned and started in the opposite direction.

Young followed.

They found Jackson, Vala, and Woolsey standing over McKay’s shoulder on the horse-shoe balcony overlooking the gate. As soon as she saw Young, Vala sidled over, leaning into her own cane.

“How we doin’?” Young asked in an undertone.

“Welllllll,” Vala drew out the word. “There’s been a bit of a complication. Seems flyboy was carrying a control crystal, and—”

“Did you know about this?” McKay snarled over his shoulder at Young. He took a breath, composed himself, and resumed with, “Or was this some idiotic last-minute MILKY WAY GARBAGE THAT—”

“Inside voice,” Jackson suggested, with a delivery so angelic that it flipped the bar and ended up in asshole territory.

“Dr. McKay,” Woolsey began, “we will certainly be having words with our Milky Way counterparts—”

“STRONG WORDS.”

“Strong words,” Woolsey echoed placatingly, “but rather than attempting to place blame, might I suggest that a better use of your time might be—”

McKay ignored Woolsey and fixed Young with an incensed look. “Sheppard came back here with an ALTERAN CRYSTAL ON HIS PERSON. Which, I am ASSUMING he didn’t tell ME about because I would have pitched THIS FIT on EARTH and PREVENTED IT.”

“I didn’t know.” Young projected as much calm as he could muster. “I’m guessing Landry wanted the crystal offworld for the same reason he wanted Rush offworld. Better security. Farther from the Lucian Alliance.”

McKay’s glare toned itself down. “We’ve got labs activating everywhere. We’ve got equipment turning itself on. Dangerous equipment. We’ve got city-wide systems in the green that we deliberately keep power out of. We’ve got new circuitry in play, all of it tied to the control chair. We have a missing crystal—”

“Technically not missing,” said a Czech scientist with flyaway hair and glasses. “I mean, it’s there, the data is clear.” He gestured at the screen. “It’s there, Rodney. It’s in the network.”

“Not possible.”

“We’re literally seeing it,” the other man said.

McKay rounded on the man. “Sheppard was carrying it and Sheppard collapsed in the gate room. So how did it get there, Radek? Magic? ”

“Yes,” the Czech scientist replied, seemingly dead serious.

“I’m gonna have a stroke,” McKay breathed, high pitched and incredulous. He turned back to his aquamarine display. “I’m gonna bleed into my brain and die. It’s probably already happening.”

The Czech scientist stood. “Radek Zelenka.” He offered Young his hand.

Young shook it.

“Is there anything you can tell us about the crystal Colonel Sheppard was carrying?” Zelenka asked, fixing Young with an earnest, unwavering gaze. “Unfortunately Dr. McKay is succumbing to his own hysterics.”

“I heard that,” McKay snarled, his fingers moving dexterously over his console.

“You were meant to,” Zelenka said, unimpressed.

Young cleared his throat. “It came from Altera. The Ancient homeworld. It was a prize for completing a series of trials. It was small. Could fit in the palm your hand. Red. Carved.”

“Carved?” Zelenka repeated. “And—and red?”

Young nodded. “Not a normal crystal spar. Complicated. More round than cylindrical.”

Zelenka nodded crisply and returned to his station. “See?” He eyed McKay forbiddingly. “Magic. Also known as ‘energetic conversion powered by a living-crystal matrix’.”

“You think what? It seated itself?”

Zelenka sat back and opened his hands, like he’d already won whatever the hell argument they were having.

Woolsey gathered himself and straightened. “Dr. McKay, as soon as you’ve sealed off all newly active labs and ensured there’s no ongoing depletion of our ZPM, I’d like to hold a senior staff briefing. Is there a tentative time you can—”

“Fourteen hundred,” McKay said without looking up. The sea-colored light shone off his hair.

“Eli,” Young said, pushing his luck at a loud enough volume for the whole room to hear, “stick with Dr. Zelenka.”

“Oh.” Zelenka squinted up at Eli, then frowned at Young. “And who is this?” He turned to Eli. “Sorry, who are you?”

“Eli Wallace.” Eli held out his hand and smiled. “I’m Nick Rush’s intern.”

Zelenka practically tripped over himself trying to get out of his seat. “Oh. OH! You work for Dr. Rush? Why didn’t you say so?” He took Eli’s hand in both of his. “Very nice to meet you. Very nice. You want a chair? Take mine. I’ll get another one.”

“Pathetic,” McKay muttered under his breath.

“I, uh—sure.” Eli confusedly watched Zelenka “borrow” a chair from the person at the next workstation.

“Colonel,” Woolsey said, “Dr. Jackson. Might I have a word in my office?”

“Sure,” Jackson said.

Young clapped Eli on the shoulder and turned to follow Woolsey. Vala tagged along, limping next to Young, leaning into her own cane.

“He doesn’t like me.” Vala’s gaze darted to Woolsey as she used her free hand to haul herself up the silver bannister.

“Really?” Young frowned. “Huh. The NID alum with the five law degrees doesn’t like you? I don’t get it.”

She flashed him a dazzling smile. “He was part of a sting operation to test my loyalties. I didn’t love the execution, so I put together a little bit of a turnabout.” At the top of the stairs, she lifted her hand and made a small circle with her finger. “I publicly insinuated he’d made some unusual sexual requests of me?”

Young rolled his eyes and leaned into his cane. “Vala.”

“Look, handsome, in my defense, in all the power structures I’ve ever operated within, people die so frequently that you don’t need to worry about pissing someone off. How was I supposed to know he’d live so long?”

Young snorted. “Pro tip: don’t do that again.”

Vala sighed theatrically. “That’s what General Landry said. The damage is done, I’m afraid.”

Woolsey turned, ushering Young into his office with a polite sweep of the hand. He gave Vala a look of silent reproach, which she returned with a sparkler of a smile.

“My aren’t you looking well today, Administrator Woolsey?” She asked breathily. “These Lantean uniforms are so flattering.” She traced a fingertip along the red swatch of color at Woolsey’s shoulder.

Jackson cleared his throat and lifted her hand away.

“Everyone agrees,” Vala continued, undeterred. “Did you have a hand in their design?”

Woolsey gave Vala a repressive glare and pulled a chair for Young. “Colonel, please sit.” He silently pulled a chair for Vala and indicated it with his eyes.

“Sooo kind of you,” Vala breathed. “Not sure if you’re aware, but I was recently shot in the line of duty. With a gun. For Earth.”

“I’m aware,” Woolsey said crisply. “One moment.” With that, he left the room.

“Where’s he going?” Vala asked in a stage whisper.

“I think he’s getting me a chair?” Jackson’s gaze trailed Woolsey, bemused. He looked down at Young. “How’s Nick?”

“No idea,” Young said. “Keller held my team at triage.”

Before Jackson could reply, Woolsey backed into his own office, fighting with a chair that was doing its best to avoid being moved. Jackson crossed to help him and together they dragged the chair up to the desk.

“My goodness the pair of you are strong,” Vala said, lounging back in her chair and lifting her injured foot into Young’s lap. “The colonel and I are quite overcome.”

Jackson looked up at her, the sun streaking his hair with gold. He gave her a magnificent glare of sea-angel blue, coupled with a scowl that’d brought down empires.

“I’m fine,” Young said.

“Get your foot off him,” Jackson hissed.

With a theatrical pout, Vala removed the offending foot from Young’s lap.

“Welcome to Atlantis,” Woolsey said, with more than a trace of dry, self-deprecation. He stepped around his desk and slid into his waiting chair. “I’ve been ‘briefed,’ for a certain definition of the word, by General Landry. Given recent events, I find myself in need of a few more details about the personnel and equipment you brought to our city.”

Jackson’s eyes flicked to Young. “Most things touching Nick Rush are currently ‘Need to Know’,” he began.

“Dr. Jackson,” Woolsey said, “I can appreciate that, but the man stepped through my gate and now there’s water running down the walls.” Woolsey pointed to the corner of the room, where a depressed groove of metal housed a silent stream of glittering water. “As the administrator of a floating city, this is concerning. To say the least.”

“I’d argue that looks decorative,” Jackson said.

“Very pretty,” Vala breathed.

“Unacceptable,” Woolsey fired back. “Dr. McKay tells me we have multiple systems putting a small but measurable drain on our power reserves. We have unidentified labs and sealed city sectors opening themselves. Sectors which haven’t been cleared, let alone explored. I’d ask Colonel Sheppard for an explanation, but he’s currently incapacitated, likely due to a control crystal he was carrying that has, somehow, embedded itself in the heart of the neural net that runs city life support.” Woolsey took a breath, centered himself, and started again. “Everything you know. Now, please.”

Jackson looked at Young.

Young nodded.

Jackson straightened in his chair. His blue-fire eyes burned with the sun pouring through windows and skylights. “Ancient technology has a life and mind of its own. Even across all these millennia. It plays favorites.”

“I know it plays favorites,” Woolsey said, unimpressed, “Colonel Sheppard lives here. It’s been hard to miss.”

“Okay,” Jackson began, “then you understand—”

“I understand Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Rush removed a control crystal from Altera. Why would the Ancients permit such a thing? Do you know?”

“I—no.” Jackson gave Woolsey a faint smile.

“Guess, please.”

“You want me to guess?”

“Considering your track record as a whole, your ‘guesses’ are worth a great deal, Dr. Jackson.”

“Okay. Guessing. Historically, we’ve been allowed to interact with the technology we find, but this crystal was something different: a prize for a trial of the mind and spirit. It’s a way, maybe, for the Ancients to intervene without intervention.”

“Given the effects of this crystal,” Woolsey waved at the water silently sheeting down his wall, “what is its likely purpose?”

“No idea,” Jackson said.

“Guess,” Woolsey fired back pointedly.

Jackson frowned at the water sheeting down the wall, like it was whispering a distraction at him. “Life support doesn’t seem like an accident.”

“How so?”

“Well, if there’s one domain where Ancient technology keeps surprising us, it’s a care-taking element. Buffers that prevent pattern loss in the gate network. Positional updates that prevent travelers from being stranded. Their tech maintains its own integrity so well that tens of thousands of years of corruption and theft by the Goa’uld couldn’t tear the spirit out of it.” Jackson stood and paced over to the wall, where water silently ran in a new silver/stone groove.

“Go on,” Woolsey said softly.

“And—the shape of the crystal. Carved like a spark.” He trailed his fingertips through the water glimmering its way down the wall. His brow furrowed. “It feels—personal.” He looked across the room, caught Young’s eye. “Don’t you think?”

“Jackson,” Young said, “this is way over my head.”

“Personal?” Woolsey asked.

“I mean—” Jackson cast his gaze back toward the observation deck where McKay bent over a console. “This place is a cathedral. A temple to the sea. Fractal stained glass, partitioned like coral. Metal like water. Stone like sun.” He smiled, small and warm, his fingertips still in the flowing slide of a silver-backed waterfall. “And now—water runs through it.” He knelt at a shallow trough at the base of the walls, where grating had appeared. “There are lights here. Hard to see on a day full of sun. But…I’m wondering if something’s meant to grow.” He looked up at them. “We’ll see.”

“Grow?” Woolsey echoed.

“There’s keeping us alive,” Jackson said, back on his feet, “and then there’s saying hello. Rolling out the green carpet. I don’t think the control crystal in our life support has a defined purpose. I’m guessing it’s a calling card. Maybe the first real mark of status humanity’s been given. Not a weapon, not a power source—”

“An AmEx Black Card,” Vala said sagely.

They all looked at her.

“They’re invitation only,” she explained. “Highly exclusive. When the Stargate Program goes public, we’ll all get one, I’m sure.”

“Uh.” Jackson frowned. “Don’t think it works that way.”

“The control crystal or American Express, as a corporation, rewarding us for our good deeds?” Vala asked.

Young snorted.

“Can we return to the matter at hand?” Woolsey gave Vala a dark look. “Dr. Keller has made incredible progress with shielding Colonel Sheppard’s mind against the pressures of Atlantis. But we still haven’t determined what was done to him on Altera that increased his sensitivity to the city’s technology. Can you shed any light on this, Dr. Jackson?”

Jackson shook his head. “I’m unwilling to speculate.”

Woolsey sighed. “Can you tell me why you’re unwilling to speculate?”

Jackson smiled a small smile and said nothing.

Woolsey looked to Young, like he was some kind of translator for crazy geniuses.

Maybe he was.

“Lotta top players on Atlantis right now,” Young offered. “Maybe best not to tip our hand about anything. To anyone. On any plane.”

Woolsey gave Jackson a look that pretty clearly said, Are you shitting me?

Jackson shrugged.

Woolsey pressed his fingertips to his eyebrows, like he was trying to force a headache away. “And your purpose on Atlantis? Is that also ‘unspeakable’?”

“The less we talk about it the better, I’m thinking,” Jackson said, a note of sympathy in his voice. “Pretty sure it’ll be one of those things where I know when I’m done.”

“I’d really rather not be drawn into your war,” Woolsey dropped his hands.

Jackson did his best to conceal his flinch.

“It’s not ‘his war’,” Vala said, cool and formal. “If it’s anyone’s, let’s call it mine. I did give birth to a Hostile Prophetess and Supreme Commander of the Origen War Machine.”

Everyone stared at her.

“Ummmmmm,” Jackson breathed, his eyes shut. “Can we not?”

“What?” Vala asked, clear and musical, her hair shining under ageless sea glass.

A knock sounded on the doorframe behind them. Young turned to see Major Lorne, Sheppard’s XO, standing in the doorway. He gathered himself, readying for the ache that would come with shifting his weight, but—

“Ah, Major Lorne,” Woolsey said. “Would you mind showing Dr. Jackson and Ms. Mal Doran to their quarters? I’d like a word with Colonel Young.”

“Sure thing.” Lorne said. “McKay says we’re having a senior staff briefing at 1400?”

Woolsey nodded.

Jackson and Vala got to their feet, looking curiously over their shoulders as they followed Lorne from the room.

“I can’t—” Woolsey dropped his voice, leaned over his desk, and looked Young in the eyes. “I can’t identify with any of that.” He motioned subtly after Jackson and Vala. “Can you?”

Young wasn’t sure how to respond. He cleared his throat. Couldn’t think of a damn thing to follow it up with.

“There isn’t an Earth-based protocol that I’ve managed to enforce on this city for more than two hours at a time,” Woolsey said, dry as dust. “My top military advisor has a poorly concealed death wish. My predecessor adopted a nation of people with genetic ties to the Wraith and died by slow conversion into a replicator. You brought us a math consultant with the reputation of a rockstar and the status of Planetary Asset because we’re supposedly the safest harbor he can find? Dr. Jackson, the centerpiece of the Ori War is here on an undisclosed mission. And Rodney McKay, the most reasonable person on this Expedition, is publicly threatening a stroke on the Observation Deck as the city transforms itself like it has a line of credit from American Express.”

“McKay’s your most reasonable guy, huh?” Young did his best not to smile.

Woolsey took a breath. “Sometimes it can seem that way.”

“I get it,” Young said. “This end-of-the-world vibe is making the rounds.”

“Colonel, frankly I’m glad you’re here. Colonel Sheppard is out of commission more frequently than I’d like. This,” Woolsey waved at the gate room, “is a case in point. Would you consider joining us for our senior staff briefing? I think we could all use a counterweight to Dr. McKay’s justifiable passions.”

Young hesitated. “My team and I are happy to help, but our primary objective is the protection of Earth’s Planetary Asset. My understanding was that Colonel Sheppard had no plans to incorporate us into your military operations here.”

“Quite right,” Woolsey said. “I strongly agree. No no, I was hoping I might rely on you in a more informal capacity?”

“Meaning?” Young asked. This was starting to feel a little IOA-y. NID-ish.

Woolsey seemed to know it, too. He sighed. “Colonel. I need a little perspective. A strong handle on protocol and regulation has done little to prepare me for this job, in which I’m regularly weighing the solvency of worlds and the well-being of my personnel against haunted cities and legions of vampiric alien monsters. In the Age of Exploration, ship captains often struck up friendships with distinguished passengers while they were aboard. What are you and Dr. Rush, if not that?”

Okay.

That was taking an unexpected turn.

When he’d pictured integrating himself into Atlantis Operations, it’d been Shep he’d imagined working with. Woolsey’d been a shadowy figure, a likely obstacle, removed from any real-world considerations. A guy in a corner with a clipboard and checklist.

But Young hadn’t been the only person making plans.

“Fair enough,” he said cautiously. “I’ve got more perspective than I know what to do with.”

Woolsey looked delighted. “Wonderful. Major Lorne and I have personally arranged quarters for you and your team. Your personal belongings have already been transferred; I hope you don’t mind. We chose the location with an eye toward Dr. Rush’s security. Southeast Pier. Level Nineteen.” Woolsey stood. “If you’ll follow me, I think we have time for a quick tour before the 1400 briefing.”

Young stood. “I’d feel better if my team could be stationed a little deeper in the infirmary to keep an eye on Dr. Rush.”

“Ah, of course,” Woolsey said solicitously. “Say no more.” He pressed a small button on his earpiece. “Dr. Keller, this is Richard Woolsey. How are our patients?”

“Everybody’s stable,” Keller was just on the edge of audible from Woolsey’s in-ear radio. “I’ll be attempting to wake Colonel Sheppard within the hour. Dr. Rush’s neurocortical adjustments are more of a work in progress. It would go faster with Rodney’s help.”

“Splendid,” Woolsey said. “Dr. McKay will be with you as soon as our 1400 staff meeting is complete. In the meantime, would you mind allowing SG-68 access to your neuro-ICU? Dr. Rush is a Planetary Asset, after all, and his security is getting a little antsy.”

“You betcha,” she replied. “Keller out.”

“Thanks,” Young said softly.

“Don’t mention it,” Woolsey replied. “Let’s tour your quarters, shall we?”

The Southeast Pier wasn’t as far as Young had been prepared for. Atlantis had transport alcoves that used beaming technology to transfer personnel from place to place. That was a relief. He’d been worried how his back and leg were going to hold up in a city full of stairs, but transitioning to the residential area of the Southeast Pier was as easy as stepping into a closet and stepping out on a vista that belonged on a luxury ocean cruise.

The day was beautiful. Sun poured down on a sea of depthless blue. They stepped to a wrought-silver rail to take in the view. A few small spires rose along the thrust of the pier. They were in the most prominent tower, about halfway up, with an unobstructed view of an endless ocean.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Woolsey asked, with a fondness he didn’t bother to conceal. “All civilian personnel who arrived after the initial expedition have been set up on the Southeast Pier. The initial crew took rather spartan quarters in the Central Spire. We think they were meant for on-duty personnel. The real living quarters are here.”

“So this is a populated area?” Young asked.

“Oh yes,” Woolsey assured him. “In the city’s heyday, this was known as Sanctuary Quay. The transport we just used is wired into the heart of the grid. It won’t go down unless we lose all power. We know from our research that Sanctuary Quay was home to a school, to gardens, to Ancient artists and entrepreneurs. There are suites for visiting dignitaries and their retinues. That’s where we’ll have you and your team: The Nautilus Suite. According to city records, Moros himself favored these rooms when he visited Atlantis. They’re known for their mathematically inspired proportions.”

“Thoughtful.” Young followed Woolsey along the hall. “Moros?”

“Ah. The Ancient we’ve come to know as ‘Merlin.’ I’ve heard he spent some time on Earth. Perhaps he’s even a long-lost forebear of our Planetary Asset, eh?”

“What?” Young asked, startled.

“Those Ancient genes come from somewhere, don’t they? And Merlin did have a rather famous dalliance with a human student…” Woolsey turned to give Young a roguish eyebrow.

“Disturbing,” Young said.

“I regretted it as soon as I said it,” Woolsey admitted. “Ah. Here we are.” He paused next to a set of silver doors, inlaid with a spiral of colored glass that suggested the coil of a shell. “The Nautilus Suite.”

The doors slid open to reveal a translucent coil of an entryway, light coming through curving walls of of misted ultramarine with amber and lavender accents. They passed through the curl of the hall into a spacious receiving room, hung with a carved light fixture. The far wall, entirely windows, opened onto a private terrace overlooking the sapphire sea.

“This,” Young began hesitantly, “seems exposed.”

“Nonsense,” Woolsey said. “This entire level has its own shield and associated power reserve. The city rotates in response to storms and to enemy attack. Sanctuary Quay is designed to orient away from danger. It’s meant to be the lee in any storm. The pier opposite our current position, Breakwater Quay, is structurally reinforced and meant to take the brunt of any attack.”

“Not what I meant,” Young said. “Do these doors lock?”

“Not only do they lock and seal,” Woolsey said, “but they come with their own energy shield.” He moved to a panel on the wall, swept his fingers over a colored display, and a pale gold barrier shimmered across the glass.

“Not bad.” Young scanned the interior.

The room was spacious, with an attached kitchen stocked with what looked like a basket of local fruit on the silver and stone counter. There was an adjoining living room, complete with a couch and a large-screen monitor that looked like a wall-mounted TV. Eli’s gaming setup was sitting in a box beneath it. It had a distinctly modern feel.

“We’ll provide you with everything Dr. Rush might need for cracking the final cypher,” Woolsey said, motioning dismissively toward the game room. “If you’ll follow me.” He strode toward a closed door, waved a hand over the panel next to it, and it swished open to reveal what looked like a entryway for a nested set of rooms.

Young followed Woolsey inside.

“This is the primary suite-within-a-suite, if you will.” Woolsey gestured to an open hallway with a series of interconnected rooms. “Our historians have a theory that human palatial design was, somehow, influenced by the way Ancients preferred their accommodations. These chambers were meant for the visiting dignitary and their close companions. We have guard station here,” Woolsey gestured to the walls of the opulent receiving room. “This reception room has built-in security monitoring for the whole of your space.” He moved to a wall control, and an inbuilt screen flickered to life with what looked like endless rooms. “It sleeps two, but there are dedicated rooms along the corridor that should accommodate your entire party. You have six in total, correct?”

“Uh, yeah,” Young said weakly.

“The primary suite easily accommodates six,” Woolsey said as they passed bedrooms to the left and right off a shell-colored hall. “The secondary suite has space for four more.”

“What about Jackson and Vala?” Young asked. “Seems like they’d fit in here somewhere.”

Woolsey raised his eyebrows. “If it were me, I’d rather not share a living space with Vala Mal Doran.”

Young stopped himself before he could tell Woolsey that the woman had claimed top spot as Nick Rush’s terrestrial BFF. If these rooms were anything to go by, Woolsey was gonna be vying for that spot himself.

“This, I think, is you,” Woolsey said, grandly flinging a door open.

The room was massive. The doors were open to a small, private balcony overlooking a small patch of shaded ocean. A sea breeze wafted through the room, stirring the curtains and the bedding. The east wall was glass. The other walls were silver, inlaid with amber and green stone. The room had its own bathroom, its own kitchenette. It, alone, was large enough to sleep his whole team in style.

His belongings stood pitifully at the foot of a massive bed.

“Um,” Young said.

“This, we think, was where Moros’s chief advisor was housed.” Woolsey surveyed the room with satisfaction. “Follow me, please.”

Ugh, there was more?

“We think this is a security feature,” Woolsey said, “But the primary bedroom is only accessible through your quarters.”

Finally. Something Young liked the sound of.

Woolsey waved the door open. “Chuck or Amelia will come by to help you set the automated security protocols once all the excitement dies down and Dr. Keller has your Planetary Asset on his feet again.”

“Okay,” Young said, and followed Woolsey into a majestic sunlit room. The walls were fractal mosaic, a massive skylight cut into the room’s ceiling let in the real sun, the sound and smell of the sea. A matte silver patio adjoined Young’s more modest balcony. There was an open walk-in closet, a bathroom of white stone and shell, a kitchenette inlaid with amethyst accents.

Rush’s shoulder bag of clothes sat forlornly on a bed large enough for four people.

“What do you think?” Woolsey looked delighted.

Nick Rush slept on his own hardwood floor for six weeks rather than get himself so much as one stick of furniture, Young diplomatically did NOT say. Instead he said, “Nice.”

Woolsey breathed a gratified sigh. “I thought so.”

“He’s gotta be conscious to enjoy it though,” Young said mildly.

“Yes,” Woolsey agreed. “Let’s go see about that, shall we?”