*Disclaimer. I do not own Atlantis or anything of the wonderful world of Stargate. I am merely borrowing the characters and will return when finished*
A.N. Thanks to renisanz for betaing. This was actually written before Mail Call was started but due to turnaround time and RL interruptions hasn't been posted until now. I will try as hard as possible to update both stories as regularly as possible. Thanks to all who read and double thanks to the people who have reviewed on Mail Call and Movie Night! You are amazing and have encouraged me so much. Now back to our story.
Elizabeth gratefully clutched her mug of tea, savouring its warmth in the slight damp and chill of a mid-morning in Atlantis' equivalent of autumn. It wasn't that Elizabeth minded the chill. No, compared to what they had recently endured a little chill was almost laughable. Still its warmth was comforting, reminding her that she was alive, her team was alive, and Atlantis was once again safe. With a contented sigh, Elizabeth continued watching the final clean-up and repair crews mill about the city, finally at rest after an excruciatingly long month. To think this entire fiasco had started as such a promising opportunity.
Sixteen days prior.
"Dr. Weir? We are receiving a transmission through the gate. It's SGA-9's check-in."
"Patch it through please, Chuck," Elizabeth responded with a smile. SGA-9 were currently investigating the possibility of opening trade negotiations with a society the database analysts had recently discovered. According to SGA-9's initial transmission, a small, industrialized town had been located only 20 minutes from the gate. After evaluating the town's risk through preliminary recon, the team had been cautiously optimistic regarding potential trade options.
"Lt. Johnson, how are things over there. Are you playing nice with the locals?"
"Yes Ma'am, Dr. Weir!" The lieutenant replied enthusiastically "Ma'am, you would not believe the culture which has developed here. The locals are extremely friendly. We were welcomed in immediately, and trade negotiations have been proceeding better than either side could have anticipated. They've requested trade of cultural knowledge, as well as assistance in improving their electrical generation system and farming methods in return for a very fair share of this year's harvest. Seems they value knowledge quite heavily, which is a bonus for us, if I may say so. Overall, they are actually very similar to turn of the century North America."
"We've also been invited to stay for a harvest festival this evening, something to do with the planting and moon alignment or something. Sounds like it will be a great party, I mean, a wonderful opportunity to cement our negotiations and build relations between our peoples Dr. Weir. Permission for our team to extend the mission to the Vodeen home world?"
Elizabeth could practically hear the boyish grin and excitement in the lieutenant's voice. Not that she truly minded his enthusiasm. Johnson might be young (this was only his third mission as team leader) but he was gaining experience quickly, even if he did have a tendency to plough into things without looking at all the angles first. To be honest, Elizabeth had to admit friendly locals had been few and far between for the expedition following their introduction to the Athosians, and everyone knew the significance of a new and fair trading partner for the city.
"Have there been any concerns or indications that the Vodeen may be hiding anything, lieutenant?" At the Lieutenant's mention of a harvest celebration Elizabeth was suddenly flooded with disturbing images of another "peaceful" farming culture they had encountered in Pegasus. The last thing Atlantis needed was another Genii-like encounter.
"Well, Ma'am." The sergeant sounded more hesitant. "Our new gee... um scientist has expressed concerned over some of the translations in the local temple he's been exploring but," and now the lieutenant sounded much more enthusiastic, "he's the first to admit that languages aren't his specialty. The locals assure us it's a very ancient dialect, easy to confuse, and no one has been able to speak or translate this particular variation in generations. The locals say their traditions indicate it's the story of the first harvest festival. Completely harmless stuff, . In my opinion, I think it's worth the risk."
"Alright Johnson, you have a go. Please remember to maintain regular check-ins. If your team is more than an hour late with any of our scheduled checks I will be sending SGA-1. That way you can explain to Colonel Sheppard and his team, personally, why you didn't maintain radio contact." Elizabeth smiled. The threat of sending SGA-1 through the wormhole had guaranteed more good behaviour from the other teams than any other ultimatum she had yet to uncover. Apparently just the thought of having to face an irritated McKay, a mothering Teyla, a disappointed Sheppard, and Ronan was enough that most teams reprioritized check-ins to the top of their list.
"Understood, Ma'am. Johnson out."
Elizabeth ended the transition. "Well that certainly sounds hopeful. What do you think, Chuck?"
Chuck, the Canadian gate technician was a quiet and underestimated soul (unless Canadian pride, hockey, or chocolate chip cookies were on the line) and also someone Elizabeth had come to value as a solid sounding board. Quickly realizing that Chuck was far more observant than he let on (what was it with SG men and playing dumb, Elizabeth fumed) and that he used his observational skills coupled with his position in the gate room to remain up-to-date and well informed on matters that would surprise even Dr. McKay. Elizabeth had found herself seeking out Chuck's unique perspective on more than one occasion lately.
"Well, Ma'am, it seems like your standard Pegasus situation to me."
"And translated that means?"
"Murphy's law meets 'if it's too good to be true it probably is.'" Chuck replied with a weary smile.
"I was afraid of that." With that Elizabeth retreated to her office to await the next check in.