By Martha Wells
Wisdom is power…
While exploring the unused sections of the traditional urban of Atlantis, significant John Sheppard and Dr. Rodney McKay locate a recording gadget that unearths a mysterious new Stargate handle. Believing that the tackle could lead on them to an enormous repository of historical wisdom, the crew embarks on a project to this uncharted international. There they find a ruined urban, choked with whispered secrets and techniques and darkish shadows. As tempers fray and belief breaks down, the workforce uncovers the reality on the middle of the town. A fact that spells their destruction. With part their humans compromised, it falls to significant John Sheppard and Dr. Rodney McKay to possibility every thing in a dangerous video game of bluff with the enemy. To fail might suggest the autumn of Atlantis itself – and, for Sheppard, the annihilation of his very humanity…
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Additional info for Reliquary (Stargate: Atlantis, Book 2)
I rasped. ” He followed me, almost mechanically, into the dining room. “Take some whiskey,” I said, pouring out a stiff dose. He drank it. Then abruptly he sat down before the table, put his head on his arms, and began to sob and weep like a little boy, in a perfect passion of emotion, while I, with a curious forgetfulness of my own recent despair, stood beside him, wondering. What horrors had this military man seen to break him so? It was a long time before he could steady his nerves to answer my questions, and then he answered perplexingly and brokenly.
It was only later I realised that those I had passed were dead and that indeed the infection of the dead plague was spreading far quicker than even the mad journalist had predicted. From Ripley until I came through Pyrford I was in the valley of the Wey, and the red glare was hidden from me. As I ascended the little hill beyond Pyrford Church the glare came into view again, and the trees about me shivered with the first intimation of the storm that was upon me. Then I heard midnight pealing out from Pyrford Church behind me, and then came the silhouette of Maybury Hill, with its treetops and roofs black and sharp against the red.
His yellow teeth snapped at me as I pressed an arm under his chin to keep his mouth at bay. I felt his hands clawing upon the shoulders of my coat as I forced the pistol up and pressed it to his forehead. I squeezed the trigger and the gun bucked in my hand, discharging its brand of death into his skull. His blood sprayed onto me. I leaped to my feet, brushing it off with panicked hands. I ran back to my transportation and prepared to flee, fearing where there was one of the dead there would be others, but then abruptly my attention was arrested by something that was moving rapidly down the opposite slope of Maybury Hill.