No Place Like Home Chapter 2
See Chapter 1 for Summary and Disclaimer. Author's notes are posted at my forum: fanfiction .net/topic/12334/12759760/1/
It should have been a familiar homecoming for at least half the party beaming into the Atlantis Gate Room. But from their expressions, it wasn't quite what they had been expecting.
"Holy Hannah!" Colonel Samantha Carter exclaimed softly, staring around her. The rest of the company seemed equally startled.
Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, having contemplated his surroundings with a jaundiced eye, abruptly fixed his accusing gaze on a suitable scapegoat.
"Chuck!"
The Control Room technician started nervously. "Er, yessir?"
"What the hell is all this?"
"Orders from SGC high command, sir. They wanted to have a flag from every country represented in the Atlantis expedition."
"I didn't mean that, Chuck," Sheppard said, with a irritated but dismissive gesture at the dozen or so flags suspended from the ceiling of the massive Gate Room. "The flags are fine. What's with all the bunting?"
"Er, that was Mr. Woolsey's idea, sir. He said he thought it would add a festive touch, sir."
"I don't like it," Ronon rumbled, scowling at at the shiny multi-coloured fabrics draped all around the area.
"What, were the idiots in charge of this colour-blind? I think I'm going to be sick from the visual overload!" Rodney snapped. Dr. Keller clutched his arm and nodded emphatically.
"It is quite displeasing to the eye," Teyla agreed.
"The whole effect is rather like a Senctonese bordello, actually. Do you suppose that was intentional?" Vala asked, looking fascinated but dubious.
"It is highly unlikely that the parties concerned have any idea what a Senctonese bordello is, let alone what one looks like, Vala Mal Doran," Teal'c said. "Moreover, I cannot conceive of any reason why the SGC would wish the Atlantis Gate Room to resemble one." It was amazing how clearly he managed to convey his aversion to the decor with so little change in his facial expression.
"Are those balloons? It's hard to tell, with the light reflecting off that glittery stuff," Daniel Jackson said incredulously. He looked torn between distaste and disbelief.
Sheppard's scowl deepened. He tugged at the collar of his dress uniform. Ronon was fingering his gun ominously.
"Man, oh man." Mitchell winced, closed one eye to squint at the decorations, and then put his hand up to shade both of them. "Just wait till the General..."
There was a flash of light as the next party was beamed in.
"Hey, kids!" The unmistakable tones of Jack O'Neill rang through the room. "What's... Gah!" He waved his hand frantically as if trying to erase the sight before him.
Beside him, Richard Woolsey looked around in dawning horror. General Landry maintained a commendable poker face, under the circumstances. His daughter wasn't nearly as successful - she actually flinched. Beside her, Carson Beckett was clearly audible, unleashing a spate of profanity that expressed his own feelings, as well as those of the Marines behind him (conscious of the presence of the top brass and therefore forced to censor themselves to an uncomfortable degree. Several of them were turning interesting colours - ranging from red to puce - with the effort).
"Sheppard?" O'Neill enquired, with a snap in his voice that made Mitchell wince in sympathy.
"It wasn't me, sir," the Atlantis CO said promptly. "I just got here."
The general turned around slowly. "Richard?" he drawled, in a deceptively mild tone. This time Sam and Daniel winced.
Woolsey looked completely non-plussed. "I didn't - some of the people at the IOA suggested - I thought it was a nice idea - I imagined something like the way they usually do up the SGC Gateroom - I wasn't expecting, well - this!"
"Really? So, who exactly was responsible for... this?" O'Neill made a vague gesture that somehow managed to convey his general displeasure with the situation. "And please tell me that whoever they were, they weren't also in charge of the buffet?" His gaze followed Sheppard's glare to land on Chuck, who flinched. "For crying out loud! Make no mistake, people- this is a snafu of epic proportions!"
The poor technician looked nervously between O'Neill, Sheppard and Woolsey and stammered, "It was a committee from the IOA, sir. And they had a contingent from the Naval Base helping them. They wouldn't let us do anything. We only had a skeleton crew, and I mean, she insisted - that lady, you know, the one who came to Atlantis before, when we were still in Pegasus?"
"Shen Xiaoyi!" Woolsey and O'Neill said together.
The loud grinding sound in the background turned out to be caused by Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard's teeth, as he contemplated the fact that a crowd of U.S. Navy types had helped to desecrate his ship. Damn squids! The other Air Force and Marine personnel were looking none too happy, either. Lorne was wearing the same distant yearning look as Ronon, suggesting that he would really be far happier shooting something, or preferably someone, right then.
"Ah." O'Neill said, suddenly calm. "I'm guessing there's no cake, then."
"Er, no sir." Chuck decided that mentioning there was flan instead would be like waving a red rag at a bull. Or adding fuel to a raging forest fire. Or something else equally foolhardy.
"Well, there's no help for it, kids. We'll have to clean this up."
"Clean it up? There's less than an hour to go until everyone arrives for the ceremony!" Woolsey protested, looking upset. "There isn't time! I was so hoping that this would be a special occasion for the whole expedition."
"Calm down, Richard. You've faced the Wraith, for Chrissakes - what's a little bunting? Besides."
"Besides, what?"
"Besides, I have an idea." Turning to Chuck, he flicked his hand. "Get rid of this - stuff."
"Sir?"
"Get. Rid. Of. It." Jack repeated. "Keep the flags. Lose all the rest of it - the buntings, the streamers, the glitter - wait, are those balloons? Definitely lose the balloons."
"Umm, how, sir?"
O'Neill sighed. "Have Odyssey beam it off the ship. Space it all. I don't care. I've got a much bigger problem to deal with." He turned to the other General in the room. "Hank, you got any ideas on how to save the buffet?"
"Could call Walter," Landry said. "He has sources."
"Good idea. Sheppard, call Walter. That's a plan." He stabbed his index finger triumphantly into the air. "See, Richard? The day is saved."
Woolsey smiled weakly.
"OK, then." O'Neill dusted his hands off airily. "Hey Hank, now that we've saved the day, you want a tour?"
"Definitely. This is my first time on Atlantis, after all."
"Right. Follow me." After a single step, he looked blank, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"That way, sir," Carter whispered loudly, pointing at the stairs leading to the Operations Center.
"I knew that." O'Neill grinned and started for the stairs, then paused. "You want to lead the way, Carter? Point out some of the finer nuances that I might miss?"
Sam suppressed a smile and nodded. The rest of SG-1 looked around, apparently had one of their team telepathy moments where they figured the Atlantis group would prefer to handle this by themselves, and unanimously decided to tag along with the tour. All of them but Teal'c started making noises about how they'd never gotten a chance to see much of the city on their earlier visits. Mitchell glanced at Jackson's expression, rolled his eyes, and muttered, "Daniel Disneyland", which made Vala giggle, and Teal'c incline his head gravely. "Indeed."
O'Neill turned around at the top of the stairs and pointed at the Atlantis contingent. "By the time we get back, I expect you will have this situation under control. Am I right?"
"You're right, sir," Sheppard gritted out between his teeth.
"I better be, kids." The General turned his back and started down the corridor in SG-1's wake. "By the way, Richard," and they could see his index finger circling ominously, "You should let people know that I said heads will roll for this! And I mean..."
Woolsey grabbed Chuck's arm as the technician climbed towards the control consoles. "Don't beam it all into space, Chuck. I have a much better idea."
"Oh, me too," Sheppard said, with a cheerfully homicidal smile.
*****
The commendation ceremony for the Atlantis crew went off beautifully. The Gate Room now sported, in addition to the national flags hanging down from the ceiling, fluttering draperies of pale blue and aquamarine fabric that complemented the spare beauty of the Lantean architecture perfectly. There were a lot of 'oohs' and 'aahs' of admiration, except from certain members of the IOA who appeared at first puzzled, and then frustrated. In the case of Shen Xiaoyi, the frustration quickly changed to acute nervous tension, when she realised that every time she met General Jack O'Neill's eyes, he made it a point to smile beatifically at her; and further, every time Richard Woolsey looked in her direction, he was wearing what could only be described as an expression of smug satisfaction. After a point, she started staring fixedly at her shoes.
General O'Neill and Woolsey made speeches, followed by James Coolidge from the IOA. There were a number of commendations and medals for individual members of the team. There was a conspicuous amount of whistling and cheering when Ronon Dex received the Congressional Gold Medal. The French IOA delegate announced that the distinction of the Légion d'honneur 'for services to humanity' was being conferred on Richard Woolsey, John Sheppard, Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, Evan Lorne, Radek Zelenka, and Carson Beckett. Rodney Mckay received the Order of Canada, the country's highest civilian honour. And finally, the promotions of John Sheppard and Evan Lorne to the ranks of Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel respectively were announced. Both men also received the Air Force Cross.
"Phew! Glad that's done," Sheppard said, slapping Ronon's back when all the formalities were concluded. "Want to check out the buffet?"
"Way ahead of you," Rodney said, sniffing like a hunting dog. "Whoa! Will you look at that!"
It was a pretty impressive spread. Five different cuisines, and a truly generous variety of desserts. No flan, though.
"We owe Walter Harriman big time for this," Lorne sighed. "And believe me, he's going to collect."
*****
By sunset, all of the IOA and external guests had been escorted off the ship. But most of the Stargate program personnel had spread themselves out and were enjoying what had relaxed into an informal party.
"In point of fact, General, my people weave a kind of plant fibre to make those. They are actually what I have heard described as 'mosquito nets' by the Marines," Teyla was explaining to Landry. "The fine weave allows air to pass through, while keeping out small stinging insects in the summer season."
"Well, now, isn't that something. Mosquito nets!" Landry chuckled, looking back at the flimsy blue-green draperies fluttering above them.
A little way off, there was an extremely involved argument in progress.
"I must disagree, Doctor McKay," Teal'c said. "It is in fact Colonel Mitchell who most closely resembles Captain Kirk."
"I'll bet you anything he hasn't gotten cosy with nearly as many alien women as John has," Rodney contended indignantly. "Sam, back me up here!"
Sam looked thoughtful, but didn't say anything.
"There was the time that Colonel Mitchell was forced to engage in ritual combat to the death with a man he considered a friend, and only escaped when he was injected with a drug that simulated his death, while his opponent pretended to strangle him with a weapon closely resembling an Ahn-Woon."
Rodney looked reluctantly impressed. "Yes, I'll give you that one. But John's still way ahead on the hot alien chicks thing." Vala, Jennifer and Sam pelted him with popcorn. "OK, OK, I apologise for using the phrase hot alien chicks. Doesn't make it less true, though," he mumbled.
"I will concede that Colonel Sheppard does seem to have a superior number of extra-planetary liaisons on his record. However, given the distance of your base of operations from Earth, and the relatively small female population of the Atlantis expedition, there is a far higher probability that Colonel Sheppard will encounter more females from outside his home world than the reverse."
Rodney looked mulish. "They go on about the same number of missions to alien planets. So your argument isn't really germane."
"He's right, Muscles. You do have to count the earth women they've dated separately," Vala said.
"Be that as it may, Colonel Mitchell scores over Colonel Sheppard on many other criteria," Teal'c went on. "Such as for instance, the number of times he has lost his shirt in the midst of a conflict."
"Not to mention his pants," Sam put in, laughing.
"Hey, I think they're talking about us," Mitchell said, nudging Sheppard, who had stretched his legs out and dozed off.
"Who is?" Sheppard said, blinking one eye open. Mitchell nodded over at the table where Teal'c and Rodney were sitting with Sam, Vala, and Jennifer Keller. All five turned to look at the two colonels, and there was a burst of laughter.
"You're right, they totally are." He closed his eyes again, deciding he really didn't want to know.
Mitchell glanced over at a table some distance behind them, where a much quieter discussion was taking place.
"So the Satedan language has two alphabets? One is a set of logograms, and the other is a set of phonetic symbols?" Daniel looked intrigued.
"Yeah. This is how you write, 'Greetings' in Old Hand." Ronon sketched a single symbol on the table with his finger. "And you'd use these six symbols to spell it out in sounds in New Hand," he went on, demonstrating. Daniel watched the movements intently.
"Most people just use New Hand these days. I mean, you'd have to know at least a thousand symbols in Old Hand before you could even begin to communicate anything. New Hand's just easier. 30 symbols, they all have sounds, you string 'em together, you can write anything you want."
Ronon looked down and took another swig of his drink. "It makes me sad, though. I don't know of anyone else who uses it, other than me - maybe in fifty years there won't be anyone anywhere who knows Satedan Old Hand. It's just one more thing the Wraith took from my people."
There was a long pause until Daniel broke the silence. "I lived on a planet called Abydos for a year. When I first went there, all the humans on the planet were slaves under the control of a Goa'uld named Ra. For three thousand years, he'd forbidden all knowledge of writing, on pain of death. Their ancestors came from Earth, they used a script that was like your Old Hand, logograms. I'd been studying it for years, but no one on Earth remembered how to speak the language." Daniel stopped. His expression was distant, remembering. Ronon sensed that this was a difficult memory.
"So why'd you go to Abydos?"
"It was when we figured out how to use our Stargate again. Our gate had been buried for thousands of years, and the only address we had was for Abydos. When we got there, we couldn't find the seventh symbol to dial back home. Which was kind of a shock, and not in a pleasant way! We'd also forgotten about the Goa'uld, so that was a shock, too. Anyway, when we got there, we found that despite Ra's efforts, there were still people who remembered the writing - the script that their ancestors used. They'd kept it secret, just a handful of them, generation after generation, risking their lives to keep that bit of their history alive. That was what helped us ultimately find a way to dial back to Earth. I guess that just reinforced something I've always believed. If you can pass on what you know to even one more person, it's worth it. No knowledge is ever wasted." His voice was still low and calm, but there was an intensity there that spoke of deep, heartfelt belief.
"You should teach people this Satedan Old Hand of yours. I'd be interested to learn it, actually, and I'm pretty sure quite a few of my colleagues would jump at the chance." He smiled, but Ronon noticed his eyes were still haunted.
"What happened? To the people on Abydos?"
Daniel drew a deep breath and exhaled very slowly. "They're gone, now. All of them."
"This Ra - he killed them?"
"No, no. Jack and I, we killed him. But there was another Goa'uld, years later. He destroyed the planet. But the people didn't die, actually, they, uh, ascended."
"Like the Ancestors in this Galaxy. The Ancients."
"Yes, it was an Ancient Being named Oma Desala who helped them to ascend. So it wasn't, it wasn't..." he trailed off.
Ronon studied his face thoughtfully. "But you still miss them. Your friends from Abydos," he said. It wasn't a question.
"Yes. Yes, I do. And I remember them, and I remember their stories, and I remember their writing. This is how you'd write 'greetings' in their script." Daniel sketched out two symbols on the tabletop, using his fingertip. He looked up at Ronon and smiled. It seemed less forced, as if the act had eased the memories a little.
Ronon thought that perhaps the other man was right. It was worth considering. So he smiled back and clapped Daniel on the shoulder. "Yeah. I see."
Daniel leaned over the table and traced out the symbol Ronon had used before. "So, this is 'greetings'?"
Ronon stared at him for a second. "No, you used the down stroke on the wrong side."
"Oh." Daniel pursed his lips. "I'm guessing that changes the meaning?"
"Yeah, it does. What you just wrote, that means 'f*ck you', basically," Ronon managed, straight-faced.
There was a brief silence before both men burst into laughter.
"Hey, Jackson!" Mitchell called. "Could use some help over here!"
Both Daniel and Ronon picked up their drinks and walked over to where Sheppard and Mitchell were sprawled on the floor. The latter looked up seriously at both of them and said, "Batman and Wolverine. In a fight. Who'd win?"
Ronon and Daniel looked at each other, and then back at Mitchell.
"Batman," Daniel said, at the same time that Ronon said, "Wolverine".
"There you go. You heard my wingman," Mitchell said to Sheppard with a flourish of his hand in Daniel's direction.
"Yeah, but Ronon said Wolverine, so it's two against two."
"Wolverine would tear Batman to pieces," Ronon said.
"That's what I said!" Sheppard exclaimed, sitting up and punching the Satedan lightly in the leg.
"Oh, I don't think so. Brains and martial arts training against pure brawn? Batman would outmaneuver Wolverine in about five minutes," Daniel stated, with conviction.
The sounds of the party carried faintly up to the level above, where Jack O'Neill leaned on the balcony and frowned into the distance. Beside him, Richard Woolsey fidgeted, a little ill at ease.
"Good to know the kids are all right. For today. Tomorrow, they're all going to be back at the SGC, and I'm back in Washington. So, Richard, what's your plan for Atlantis?"
"Honestly, I'm at a loss, Jack. With the ZPMs as they are, we can't go back. But I feel quite strongly, and I think my team would agree, that we should take Atlantis back."
"You know the IOA won't support you."
"I know. But as long as the Wraith are at large, even if Pegasus seems so far away, I believe they pose a serious threat. Now that they know of Earth, the richest feeding ground they've ever heard of, they'll never stop trying to come here. Sooner or later, they'll find a way. And without us, there's no one in Pegasus capable of taking the fight to them. We have to find a way to neutralise them for good."
"Yeah. You know, I agree with you." Jack paused. "Man, about five years ago, I don't think I could even have imagined saying that to you."
Woolsey gave him an ironic look.
"Yes, yes, I know," Jack waved his hand. "You've saved the world, learned some things since then, bygones. Let's not dwell. But still - you don't have the ZPMs to take Atlantis back."
"Right. Doctors Mckay and Zelenka are working to solve the problem, but I honestly don't know when, if ever, they'll succeed. So - what do you suggest?"
"I may have some ideas about the IOA. As for the ZPMs - that's where SG-1 comes in."
*****
Two days later, the Military Police were called in to investigate the case of ten missing seamen from the Naval Base at San Diego. After a day-long search, the MPs found all ten locked into an empty shipping container in the naval dry docks. They had been stripped to their underwear, and their foreheads had been marked with an unknown symbol, using a blue vegetable-based dye, which according to the doctor who examined them, was likely to fade after a week or so of scrubbing. They seemed otherwise unharmed. Their captors had left them plenty of food and water, and the seamen seemed to have suffered nothing other than their 48 hour confinement. All ten men claimed to have seen nothing of their captors. In fact, they all appeared curiously reluctant to discuss the circumstances surrounding their abduction and subsequent imprisonment. Eventually, the MPs dropped the investigation, due to lack of evidence. Other than a recently developed phobia about bunting, and the occasional nightmare about balloons and glitter, the seamen went on to lead reasonably normal lives.
At about the same time that the seamen were discovered, Shen Xiaoyi, the Chinese delegate to the International Oversight Advisory, decided to request indefinite leave from her duties, for undisclosed personal reasons.