Silence in the City
By K Hanna Korossy
I can hear the city sing.
It took me about a week after I got to Atlantis to realize what I guess I'd been picking up in the back of my subconscious all along. That the thrum of satisfaction I was feeling wasn't just because I was in a new galaxy, a new assignment, a new start. It was also the city responding to having people in it again. Not happiness exactly; I'm not an idiot. The city isn't alive or sentient. But it is reacting to something it recognizes in one of us in particular. So it sings, at least to me.
Not that I tell any of the guys that. It's not me it's singing about, anyway.
Two trays slide onto the table on either side of mine, and I'm grinning even as I know what's coming.
"So, Shaw. Is he here?"
It doesn't take effort anymore to listen for it, and I shake my head immediately. "Nope. Left this morning."
Lawler picks it up from my other side. "How do you do that? I bet you check the logs or something, right? Find out when the major has a mission?"
I raise an eyebrow at my usual chorus of doubting Thomases. "Then how do you explain that time I knew he was off-world on that covert mission to rescue Dr. McKay?"
A shrug. I turn to Kitts on my left.
"Or the last-minute switch when Cap'n Dunigan went on that trading mission instead of the major?"
"Yeah, okay, you're still the man. It's just weird, you always knowing when the major's not in the city. It's like you and he've got something going." There's a leer that's meant to suggest something the major would probably put Jeff on eternal KP for if he knew, but I just roll my eyes.
"I'd worry more about how Sheila always seems to know where you are," I shoot back, and in a second, Lawler's on his case and Jeff's on the defensive and they've forgotten all about me and the major. Which is fine with me. It's a game we play and I don't mind it, but they still don't get that it's not the major I'm tuned to. The city just goes quiet when her favorite isn't around.
It's no secret Major Sheppard has the ATA gene in spades, that little leftover from the Ancients having been on Earth. Word is, that's why General O'Neill invited him to this little party, although nobody knows that for sure and we're not about to ask. A couple of us have a weaker gene: me, Stackhouse, Glenn. Some of the scientists, and the doc, too. I sorta asked Stackhouse once if he ever, you know, heard anything from the city, and he looked at me like I was nuts. But...I think I saw something in his eyes for a second there, something that has me wondering if he just doesn't want to hear it, or at least doesn't want to admit it. I guess it does sound kinda crazy. I like it, though, the singing. I think I'll miss it if I ever go back to Earth.
But the major, he's got the real deal, and if I can hear the city, I bet he can, too. Not that I'm gonna ask him that, either, but I'm pretty sure. The city sure as heck knows he's here. And it wakes up for the major like for no one else. Maybe it's not singing, but it's something.
"What about you, Shaw?"
The conversation's swung around to duty shifts, and I shrug. "Sarge's got me on escort duty again for the white-coats. I report to the doc in ten."
I get some sympathetic looks. Off-world missions are the plum assignments here, and I've been angling for one almost from the beginning, but only about half the guys have been through the gate since we got here. The rest of us do city security, escort duty, muscle work for the scientists, stuff like that. It's not exactly what I signed up for, but we've had some interesting times here in the city, too, not to mention the whole being-in-another-galaxy part, so I can't really complain. Besides, every once in a while we find something cool while we're exploring around here, and I always get called to turn it on, and that can be fun. So it's not bad. I give the guys a grin to show I'm okay with it, then get up to dump my tray and go see the doc.
I reach the door about five seconds before the gurney does.
I stand back, watching the poor guy get wheeled in, the doc and two of his people already working on him, a lot of blood. But it's only when I see Dr. McKay and Teyla and Lt. Ford following the gurney that I realize who's on it.
The major's back. And the city ain't singing.
It rocks my boat more than I expected. I don't know what it means exactly, but I know it's not good. I stand back out of the way and watch.
There's a lot of blood. For a second until my view's blocked again, I see it trickling out of the major's mouth and ear, and that's not good, either. He looks grey, almost dead.
And then I realize why the city's quiet, and I can't help but shiver, suddenly quietly freaked.
Doc Beckett works frantically on him for a few minutes, and then they wheel him off to surgery. I guess he's not dead yet, but neither the city nor the major's team seems too hopeful. I don't know Teyla very well, but she's worked out with some of us and she's a good lady, a good soldier. This is the first time I've ever seen her look scared. Doctor McKay just sorta stands there, covered in blood I figure is the major's, but looking like it's his own. He's not usually this quiet, either. And Lt. Ford wanders around the room, lost. He's limping, but I don't think he's noticed.
We're not going exploring today. I wait around for a few more minutes, kinda hoping to get some word, but I finally realize the major's gonna be in there a while. Time to report to Sarge for new orders.
But I leave reluctantly, feeling like I'm abandoning my post or something. I was standing guard there, whether anyone knew it or not, and I don't like leaving. But I have a job, and I go do it.
I just wonder as I walk out into silence if I'm ever gonna hear the city sing again.
*****
A long day grinds by.
Word got out fast about the major, and another kind of silence has fallen. You can tell the scientists are shaken up: if we're going down, they must be next, right? And the fact is, that's our main job, to protect 'em, and the major's the one they look to for that. His being human and maybe being gone rattles their cages a little, and Sarge doubles our scientist-watching presence just to settle them down.
But he's not gone, not yet. Against the odds, he survived the surgery, but he's still critical, it still doesn't look good, and the city's still as quiet as lifting fog. I could almost swear it's waiting, too.
We grunts take it better because, well, that's our job, too. But something's changed. The jokes are all battlefield humor now, dark and ugly. We're careful not to tell 'em around the white-coats. We talk less, stare at each other more. There's some discussion about what it'll be like having Sarge in charge instead of the major, but what we're really wondering is what our chances are for surviving this galaxy without the major. He was the one with the gene, the plan, the confidence that was catching. Without him, it doesn't seem promising.
But we keep working. What else are we gonna do?
I see Teyla down in one of the workout rooms, doing her weird Athosian martial arts until she looks like she's ready to collapse. Griffin offers to work out with her, which makes her a lot braver than I am, but Teyla turns her down and that's probably a good idea. Lady looks like she's got plenty of demons to be fighting already. We all respectfully keep our distance after that.
Sarge sends me up with a report for Dr. Weir, who smiles at me when she takes it. It's a sad smile, and it's pretty obvious she's worried, too, but she's strong, a good leader. I feel better after seeing her; we're not gonna be totally lost here without the major. It's just gonna be harder. Just another day in the Pegasus Galaxy.
I go to bed that night and dream dark, wild things. I wonder in the morning if all of it came from me or if the city's as much at a loss as we are.
No change: everybody's whispering it when I pick up some coffee in the Mess. He survived the night but he's not gettin' better, doesn't look good. I'd already figured as much from the quiet.
Lt. Ford sits at a back table alone, crutches propped beside him. He's usually a pretty upbeat guy, but now it's like all the life is gone from him, too. No one goes back to talk to him, one part respect and one part not knowing what to say. It doesn't do morale a lot of good to have an LT moping around like that, and at one point Sarge comes in and he does go back and talk to the lieutenant. Five minutes goes by, then the lieutenant finally nods and gets up, and they leave together, Sarge carrying Lt. Ford's coffee. I don't stick around long after.
My duty today is working with the scientists, and the morning goes by while moving this, thinking at that, holding those for them. Keeps me busy, anyway. One of the scientists I know works close with Dr. McKay comes in at one point, and almost runs into me, he's so distracted. He mutters something in another language--Slavic?--and keeps going. It dawns on me that with the major down, Dr. McKay's probably haunting the infirmary, and the scientists are missing their leader, too. I feel a little more sympathetic suddenly, and try a little harder to be helpful.
Lunch comes around. I'm getting my tray filled when I hear the lunch people talking about no one having seen Dr. McKay since yesterday. I don't know why I do it--I barely know the guy--but I find myself taking a double helping of everything, and after I eat my part, I set out with the tray for the infirmary.
There's no waiting room, just the main diagnostic room, some treatment and surgery rooms, supply rooms, stuff like that. Sometimes you can wait for news in the main diagnostic room, but there are a few patients in there from the recent little flu epidemic we had, and I'm not surprised Dr. McKay isn't in there. He's probably sitting with the major, and I hesitantly peek in our version of the ICU.
The major's there, looking as still as death and hooked up to more machines than I thought we'd brought with us to Atlantis. Doesn't even look like himself, and I stare for a moment, shocked by the reality that hadn't really sunk in until then. We really are gonna lose him.
"Something I can do for you, Corporal?" The softly acid question startles me.
Dr. McKay is in the room, straightening in the chair on the far side of the bed, I just didn't notice him at first. I stammer a second, trying to remember what I was doing there besides intruding. "Uh, yes, sir. I mean, something I can do for you maybe, sir. I just brought you some lunch--they said you hadn't eaten..."
I'd never really talked to Dr. McKay before. I've seen him lay into a couple of the guys who got in his way or didn't move fast enough, and I wasn't anxious to get a piece of that. So it surprises me when he opens his mouth and nothing comes out, not a sound. The quiet seems to be catching. He swallows, tries again, looking about as unsure as I'm feeling. "I, uh...thank you. Just, uh, set it down somewhere." He makes a vague motion to his left and there's a bedside table there, so I set the tray down on it.
I should probably leave at that point, but something makes me hesitate. "Sir, I just wanted you to know...we're all pullin' for the major. And if you need anything, you just ask."
None of us really get Dr. McKay, and even less how he and the major became friends. But as obnoxious as the scientist can be, he's saved the major's life a couple of times, once or twice risking his own, and we weren't about to forget that. If I had any doubts about the major meaning something to the guy, they disappeared the minute I saw McKay, unshaven and hollow with worry and hunched beside that bed. He isn't one of us, but he's looking after one of our own, and that means we'd look after him.
He has no answer to that again. Looks like a frog caught in a flashlight beam, actually, and I kinda wonder how often anyone's said anything nice to him. Well, I wasn't gonna strain his brain; it looked like it was strained enough. I just grin at him, toss him an informal salute, and back out of the room. I think the rest is up to the major now.
That's what I'm afraid of, anyway.
*****
Even the white-coats don't have their heart in the work today, and they let me off early with a promise not to tell Sarge. I immediately head for the nearest balcony, feeling a sudden need for fresh air.
I'm too far up to hear the crashing of waves, but I watch the distant ripples and think. I come from the Midwest--Kansas--not exactly oceanfront property, but it didn't take me long to fall in love with the ocean. Open like the prairie but clean, wet instead of dusty, and a quiet murmur of movement instead of the dead silence of land. It's all about that distant hum of life, I guess. I missed that in Kansas. I miss it more now that I know what I've lost.
I really like the major. All of us do. He wasn't supposed to be in charge and I can tell he never wanted to be, but he does what he has to without making a big deal out of it. And he does it well. He might be a zoomie, but he's earned respect the hard way, leads by example, and keeps morale high with the hard balance of discipline and reward, of being one of the guys and yet being above. It's not an easy job. He'll leave big shoes to fill, and I like Sarge but I don't think he can do it.
More than that, though, the major's a good guy and we'll miss him.
I stay until the standing still gets to me, then I go back to my room, change, and go down to the gym. Marines love a little pain to clear their head, and I'm no different.
Lt. Ford's in one corner lifting weights as intently as if he were digging himself out of a cave-in. I see Tomlinson hovering nearby, spotting the LT without being obvious about it, and I nod to him. We're all looking out for the major's team right now. I ask Hill if he wants to spar, and we both go at it on the mat, a lot harder than usual. By the time we're done, George's got the beginnings of a shiner and my shoulder's gonna need ice, but darn it if I don't feel better.
Lt. Ford's still lifting when I leave.
After a shower, it's already dinner time, and I consider taking Dr. McKay another tray but decide not to. He's got other people there to make sure he eats, and I don't wanna keep sticking my nose in. Besides, I've got a feeling the lunch tray still hasn't been touched. I just eat quietly by myself, and notice nobody's looking at me, either, when I walk out.
I can't help myself, though, drawn back to the infirmary by some kind of morbid curiosity and that grating silence. I'm not gonna look in this time, I just figure on asking one of the nurses how things are going. But as I pass a side hallway next to the infirmary, something catches my eye and I pause, step back, and take another look.
It's an isolated hallway, curving past the side entrance to the infirmary, and rarely traveled. But I can see a figure sitting on the floor by the door, back against the wall, one leg drawn up, the other bent and resting on the floor. As I frown at him, he tilts his bowed head back against the wall, every move tired.
Dr. McKay.
He rubs at his eyes, or maybe he's wiping them, and that's when I decide I've seen too much. I silently move on, walking past the main infirmary doors I'd meant to go through. I've got my answer.
I don't feel like going back to my quiet quarters, so I go to the rec room and plop down on the couch. I'm hoping to hear the quiet buzz of conversation and life, but even from the little group playing a round of cards there are only hushed whispers. I finally give up and turn my attention to the TV, hearing more than listening to the Jim Carrey movie that's playing. One personal item apiece and somebody brought Jim Carrey: it boggles my mind. But it's a background buzz, and anything's better than silence right now.
I fall asleep there.
The dreams start out sinister again, foreign, frightening. I stir restlessly, knowing I'm asleep but unable to wake. And then, slowly, they start to change. Light instead of dark. Anticipation instead of fear. Joy instead of grief. Places and people I recognize. Something's changed, and it's not me.
I awake with a start to an empty room and a silent TV. But there's a soft hum in the air.
I jump up and run.
There's already a small knot of people in front of the infirmary, mostly our guys, a few scientists. A lot of relieved faces and smiles. Sarge is talking, and as I slide to a stop, it sinks in what he's saying: corner's been turned, major woke up briefly, Doc Beckett's cautiously optimistic. It's hard to take in, after all the gloom-and-doom of the last two days and everybody being sure this was it. But I know Sarge is right, know it probably better than even he does, because the city already told me. It's not singing yet, but it's definitely humming.
I crane to see past Sarge through the open door, and glimpse Teyla hugging Dr. McKay, who for once doesn't seem to mind somebody touching him because he's clinging back. Lt. Ford is bouncing on his toes, crutches or not, and Dr. Weir is smiling as she watches them. I am, too. At least for a little while longer, things are okay again, there's hope again we can win this thing. I know it. The city knows it. We're both...well, glad.
And I turn and walk away, whistling along, to go report for duty.
