Chapter Text
Prologue
It was a cold night in April when a line of dark figures trudged solemnly toward the ancient maple, standing center in the courtyard. Beneath the tree’s great, arching limbs they stood silent, resolved, as a man in an officer’s blues stood before them, mic in hand.
There were thirty-two, in total. Thirty-two names were read aloud, one by one.
“You stand convicted of crimes against nature, crimes against humanity, and treason against the Unified Peoples Alliance of Earth. By law, to preserve our great Alliance and prevent further contamination, you are condemned to swift and immediate execution.”
The air smelled like snow.
Uniformed soldiers stepped forward, looping nooses around necks, one after another. The long lines of rope ran up and over the bows of the old tree, falling again to be gathered into cords, twisted and tethered to great hooks attached to the back of a tank. It looked odd; a brutal silhouette against a backdrop of brown stone and neatly trimmed hedges.
Behind the officer, more soldiers looked on as they stood, guarding a huddled group of terrified children.
This was a proud day. A terrorist cell eradicated. Purged. Cleansed.
Among the condemned stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing, intelligent blue eyes. His face was swollen and bruised, his silver beard stained red from a broken lip. There was no remorse in those eyes, only proud defiance.
Behind the man, the tank’s engine roared to life.
Calmly, he gazed out at the audience, eyes coming to rest on the face of a young boy with a crooked mouth. Matching blue eyes stared unflinchingly back. As the rope grew taut, the man smiled.
“Meredith, LOVE!”
The Eugenics Protocol was instituted in the mid-19th century. Hailed as a “glorious utilization of science,” it was meant to eradicate genetic illnesses and traits deemed undesirable. It had been successful – too successful. In their race to engineer a stronger, smarter, faster human, Earth’s governments eradicated thirty percent of the population. Another twenty died in the ensuing famine and the fall of the power grid.
Nations were dismantled, borders dissolved, and the Alliance was born, as most things are, from desperation. One government, one mission, one people.
Earth was united.
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Dr. M. Rodney McKay, leading expert in Deep Space Telemetry, Advanced Theoretical Technology, and a-series-of-other-important-things-that-you-wouldn’t-understand-so-why waste-my-time-trying-to-explain-them-to-you?, was twenty pages, and half a red ink pen deep into the latest report from the Ascension Center’s 5th floor, and in desperate need of more coffee. He wouldn’t usually bother with anything lower than the 20th floor but this was a personal favor to Carter. With her bright smile and charm, Carter managed the lower levels where people happened. Rodney shuddered; he hated people. But Carter was on maternity leave – again – so, everyone had to pitch-in. Rodney chose to do so via reviewing reports and avoiding the people at all costs, thank you.
Still, the work was mind-numbingly dull. There were times when he legitimately could not comprehend how the majority of the human population could be so basic, so boring, so ignorant and yet had the gall to exist. The very thought was almost physically painful.
Coffee. He needed more coffee.
Standing from his desk, McKay stretched, carefully testing a partially numb foot before hobbling over to the coffee machine. Mug of liquid sanity in hand, he trudged back and sat just as his inbox pinged. Grateful for the distraction, he opened the message.
Hi, Mer
Just sending my required weekly check-in.
School is good. I’m completing all of my assignments on-time. My professors seem happy with my work.
Remember I told you that my roommate, Teyla, is getting married at the end of the year? She’s asked me to be part of the wedding, which is great. I will miss her next semester, but family comes first, right?
I promise I’m keeping to the budget you set.
- Jeannie
PS. I met someone.
Rodney blinked, then read it again.
I met someone.
Cold horror swept over him. Jeannie had met someone. Jeannie, his bright, inquisitive, often annoying little sister was…what? Romantically involved? No, no, no. Rodney had pulled so many favors to get Jeannie a marital dispensation required to get her into university and she was going to throw it away for… No, absolutely not! She was NOT going to give up her future for this – whatever ‘this’ was.
Scrambling for his jacket and keys, Rodney raced out of his office to the elevator. Aggressively smashing the button for the ground floor, he pulled out his phone and called for a jet to take him to Vancouver, watching the numbers drop slowly as the box descended. By the time he made it to the street, a car was waiting for him, along with one of the Center’s assistants – Chuck? Was that his name? Whatever, it didn’t matter.
Chuck joined him in the car with a suitcase and healthy stack of papers listing Center protocols for traveling to Vancouver, approved talking points, persons to avoid due to suspicion of unsavory activity, citrus-free menus, yada, yada, yada. When you were as important to the Alliance as McKay, they took steps to ensure he stayed in one piece.
“…forecast is showing signs of a hail sto-“
“Right. Chuck, is it? I don’t care. If you even had the capacity to understand the engineering that went into that jet – which I designed - you’d know I wouldn’t be stepping foot in it if it couldn’t withstand a nuclear bomb. So please, spare me the News at Five speech?”
Jeannie had met someone.
Jeannie was an idiot.
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Dorms were as drab, dilapidated, and unsanitary as Rodney remembered. He did, however, appreciate the uniform structure of them, every building a replica of the last. As long as some idiot didn’t fuck up the numbering, you could always find your way.
Today, he was looking for #426.
Even if the numbers were off, he was pretty sure he’d’ve had no trouble finding it. There was a hammock, some kind of kitschy wool rug in place of a proper doormat, and when he rang the bell, he discovered that the chime had been reprogrammed to play something that sounded vaguely like a pan flute. It veritably screamed new age hippy.
Ah, speaking of: A short, beautiful, ethnically ambiguous woman opened the door.
“Yes?”
“Teyla? Dr. Rodney McKay,’ Rodney greeted, thrusting his hand out in greeting. ‘I’m looking for Jeannie. I need to see her immediately.”
Teyla nodded sagely, not taking the offered hand. “Of course, Jeannie’s older brother. Welcome. Please, come in.”
Rodney quickly made his way inside and, finding the main area empty, set his sights on the staircase at the far corner of the room.
“JEANNIE?!”
“Mer?!”
There was a thump and the sound of footsteps racing down the upper hall. Then a nineteen-year-old Jeannie McKay appeared at the top of the stairs, curly hair in a messy bun and what looked to be yesterday’s makeup smudging her surprised features. “What are you doing here?”
“Your email. We need to talk. Privately,” Rodney replied, looking pointedly at Teyla.
Teyla, to her credit, seemed unphased but politely excused herself, claiming a need to visit the library.
“Did you really fly to Vancouver because I told you that I met someone?!” Jeannie looked pissed. Well too bad, Rodney was pissed first.
“YES!”
“WHY?!”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ‘WHY?’ You know exactly why, Jeannie Marion McKay. You have a rare opportunity here; one that I worked very hard to get for you. You can get an education. You can have a future.”
Jeannie stomped down the stairs, arms folded, glaring at her brother. “Marriage is a future, Mer.”
He scoffed.
“It is!”
Matching her defiant posture, Rodney loomed over her. “0.2%, Jeannie. That’s how women remain independent. That’s how many women have any kind of autonomy or…or…rights – any rights! Don’t you remember when I married Katie? The contract that I signed with her father, not her. Don’t you remember the pregnancy, how the baby was non-viable but they made her carry it. Watching her get sick and they wouldn’t treat her, wouldn’t save her as it…rotted inside her? I’m a top-level scientist, Jeannie, and I couldn’t save my own wife.”
“I remember,” she murmured, staring at her foot. “I remember, but I also know most women have healthy pregnancies. They get to raise whole families; a whole lifetime filled with love. I want that, Mer. I want love.”
Rodney just stared at his sister, his mind racing with all the horrible things he’d seen, and even more he’d heard about. He thought of even the successful women, like Carter, who was brilliant – truly brilliant – but because she was a woman, relegated to the lower floors, managing base-level projects and tourists (when she wasn’t out on maternity leave, which seemed to happen a lot, in his opinion).
“This isn’t what they would have wanted for you, Jeannie.”
Jeannie rolled her eyes. “You don’t know that. You were seven, Mer. And yes, I understand our parents considered themselves revolutionaries with crazy ideas like equality, sex without procreation, and even the gender-neutral crap that gave us such awesome names, but they’re dead, Mer. They’re dead and so are their ideas. The Alliance won, and we have to live in it. . . and…I don’t want to fight. I don’t want a difficult life. It’s not my job to carry on their mission.”
Silence filled the space between them, heavy with things unsaid.
Finally, Rodney sighed. “A simple life?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Yes, that’s what I want.”
“And this…this guy…?”
“Kaleb.”
“…whatever. Can he give you that life? Can he take care of you? What does he do?”
Jeannie looked decidedly anywhere but at her brother’s face. “He’s…he’s a…an…English teacher.”
“OH, COME ON!”