Air (Stargate: Universe, Book 1)
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Without food, supplies, or a way home, Colonel Everett Young finds himself in charge of a mission that has gone wrong before it has even begun. Stranded and alone on the far side of the universe, the mismatched team of scientists, technicians, and military personnel have only one objective: staying alive. As personalities clash and desperation takes hold, salvation lies in the hands of Dr. Nicholas Rush, the man responsible for their plight.
a ten-spot. Riley started the sequence and the inner ring of the Stargate began to rumble around, chevrons clanking and illuminating as they locked into place. A trio of the civilian techs — Park, Brody and Franklin — were working in unison with him, monitoring every moment of the process. Eli studied the gate as the chevrons began to lock, one after another. “We’re dialing now?” he asked. “A test,” said Rush. “To see if we can get a connection.” Young nodded. “If we do, we’ll send an
Chloe, yeah, that was her — looked at her with fear as Young convulsed. “Can’t you do something for him?” She shook her head. “He’s having a seizure. I’m trying to prevent him from causing further injury to himself.” Tamara swallowed, dry-throated. “There’s nothing else I can do.” Gently but tightly, the lieutenant held her commanding officer’s head and let the spasms run their course. Chloe looked on, her expression one of shock and alarm. Scott walked slowly down the corridor, stepping
the two of them before the conversation went off track. “What do you have, Doctor?” Rush snapped back to his usual default glower. “Unfortunately, more bad news.” He wandered to the screen. “These processing nodes are scrubbers responsible for cleaning carbon dioxide from the air.” Rush pointed out the red symbols. “Here, here and here. This is indicating malfunction, and more are failing.” “What kind of malfunction?” Scott was thinking about the metallic ooze that Tamara had told him about.
down the corridor, Armstrong stood, his face pale, patches of sweat blooming through the material of his five thousand dollar suit. He had one hand clamped to his side, in obvious agony. The other was held out before him, and in its shaky grip was a Beretta automatic. “He’s got a gun,” Greer continued, his eyes never leaving those of the other man. Scott didn’t respond; if the lieutenant wasn’t already double-timing it down to the shuttles, then he surely was now. The Marine released the radio
that glint of deep need. “That’s what you’re after, isn’t it? That’s why you risked everything to get here.” His lips thinned. “You think this ship is going to make you all-powerful or something crazy like that.” He had a sudden mental image of Rush plugging himself into some vast Ancient machine and transforming himself with a blast of cosmic energy, like something out of an old Jack Kirby comic. Rush gave him a patronizing look. “Eli, if there was a way to safely send all these people home and