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Chapter 3 – No More Hiding
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xo
"Come along, Jinto," Halling said. They stepped away from the Stargate and, after a few moments, the active wormhole disappeared.
The village of the Kysonians was not far. He could already see smoke from the chimneys rising into the air. Like most of the peoples in Pegasus, they led simple lives. The Wraith had been as hard on them as any other world, but they took what they could salvage from every culling and kept on trying to make a decent life for themselves. They had been trading partners with the Athosians for generations. Teyla had been introduced to them by her mother and her mother before her. They had a peculiar penchant for formality in all things, which the Athosians did not share. Where the Athosians tried to keep things fair and simple, trades and purchases with the Kysonians often involved a lot of contracts and official declarations, and everything was always done within the proper chain of command. Halling believed Mr. Woolsey of Atlantis would enjoy this particular culture. They had much in common. They were a very honest people, though, and they often made the nuisance worth the effort.
Once they reached the center of the small town, they had only to seek out the Council Elder, Padrel, to make arrangements for the crop seeds they required. He, as the leader of the Kysonians, was the only one empowered to broker trade deals with other worlds. Padrel was a stout man of about seventy years with a full graying beard. He always met them with a cheerful disposition and a loud booming voice.
"Halling! It's been too long, my friend, too long!" Padrel said as he energetically shook his hand. "It's good to see you. And you, Jinto. You have grown, young man." He took a turn with the teenager's hand. "We had feared the Athosians lost."
Halling spoke in his calm, dignified manner. "We, indeed, lost many, but we survive."
"And Teyla?"
"Teyla is well. She sends her regrets she could not come herself. We are currently making a new home for our people."
"I see. I hope there is something we can do to assist you. Do you need men? We have many skilled hands that could be spared to help with anything you need."
"That is very generous of you, Padrel, and I thank you, but it is unnecessary. We have come to see if you can spare a few sacks of regros and tava bean seeds. We are preparing our fields and it seems that we require more than we have on hand."
Padrel stopped and thought for a moment. "I believe we can accommodate you. I would, of course, have to check the stores first."
"Of course," Halling said.
"Shall we?" Padrel asked. The town stores were in a large building adjacent to the main Council building, placed close by for the convenience of traders. "Incidentally, Halling, before you take your leave of us, remind me to check your proxy allowance. I believe it will be coming due again, soon."
The proxy allowance was the contract that made it possible for Halling to conduct trade for the Athosians with the Kysonians. In their culture, only the rightful leader was permitted to make trades on either side, in this case Padrel, as the Council Elder, for the Kysonians and Teyla Emmagan for the Athosians. Every year since Teyla had been living in Atlantis, she'd had to return to Kyson to renew the contract for Halling to be allowed to trade on her behalf. Without a current signature, Teyla would have to appear in person to make any deals.
They crossed the main entrance of the storehouse and Padrel made a request from the clerk to see the inventory ledger. Halling and Jinto maintained a respectful distance, as was proper etiquette for the Kysonian people.
Halling had brought Jinto along on many such trips to many worlds, so his son could develop his skills in diplomacy and bargaining. He felt it more vital than ever that his son know exactly what to do in case something happened to him. With so few Athosians remaining, Jinto needed to be prepared to stand up for his people should it come to that.
While they waited, Jinto whispered to his father. "Why did you refuse the offer of help? We are in need of it."
"Our enemies have not forgotten us, son," Halling explained in a low voice. "We now have a responsibility to protect the location of our new home as the Lanteans do theirs. It is the only way to ensure that the Wraith or the Mast ... Michael or any others who would harm us are kept at bay. We cannot trust anyone to keep our secret for us. Times are too dangerous and people's minds are too easily persuaded."
Jinto nodded, a presence of thought apparent in his countenance beyond that of most boys of his age. So much that Halling could hardly think of him as a boy anymore. His son had witnessed his own people wither from malnutrition and perish around him from illness, seen his best friend murdered by Michael's abominations because he foolishly tried to fight, and watched his own father eventually join their ranks. Halling thought it a miracle Jinto still possessed his measure of teenage enthusiasm. Nevertheless, he had seen too much to truly be a boy ever again.
"Good news, my friend," Padrel exclaimed as he approached once again. "We have what you require."
"I am glad to hear it," Halling replied. "What would you have for payment? We do not have much, but we are willing to grant you any fair offer."
Padrel chuckled. "I know you are, my friend. We have done this too many times for me to doubt your word now." The man made a show of considering what to ask for, then said, "The friendship between the Athosians and the people of Atlantis is well known. Perhaps you would be willing to make a request of them on our behalf. In exchange, I am willing to make a gift of the seeds."
Halling and Jinto exchanged a puzzled look. They had no idea what the Kysonians would want with the Lanteans, neither were they a people in the habit of making gifts of things. It dirtied the bottom line. "May I ask what the request is?"
"I have heard troubling rumors of late. Recent travelers have been talking of a plague ravaging other worlds," Padrel revealed. "Stories of people dying in great numbers."
"A plague?" Jinto asked.
"Indeed. We have not been effected here, but we must not be caught unprepared and we understand the Lanteans are in possession of many wondrous medicines. I am asking you, my friend, if you would speak to them about granting some to my people."
Halling and Jinto glanced at each other, then Halling said, "Padrel, the Lanteans are generous, but I cannot guarantee they will consent."
"You are an honest man," Padrel said, "and acting in Teyla's name, I am satisfied you will keep your word and speak for us. Whatever the Lanteans decide, our business will be done."
Halling was stymied. The offer seemed too good to be true, but the Elder had never lied to them. His fear of this plague must be great, if he was willing to let the seed go with no guarantees at all. "I believe we have reached an accord, Padrel. The Athosian people will speak for you."
Padrel beamed. "Excellent! Now all that remains is the signing of the contracts."
Halling sighed. He should have suspected that even with the seeds being gifted to them, there would be many papers to be signed. The trio left the seed in the store for the time being. When everything was signed, Halling and Jinto would be issued a voucher and they would be permitted to return and retrieve what they needed.
Dr. Keller pored over the stack of files and textbooks on her desk. She had been at it for hours already and the sun was only now starting to light up the city. Her computer was running a search through every corner of the Ancient's medical database that the linguists had been able to decipher. Unfortunately, it was only a small portion. Impeding their progress were some symbols that they had no reference for and therefore no translation. Mostly, though, it was the sheer size of the database. It could take years before all the secrets of the Ancients were at their fingertips. In the meantime, they had to do continue to do things on their own.
She had contacted Carson about Mason's relapse and he was due back anytime. She would never admit it to Mason, but she was running out of ideas and she needed Beckett's input if she was going to come up with the next phase of treatment. Mason's drug tolerances had become extremely high over time, and in order to keep him comfortable, she was having to give him much larger doses of meds than would normally be recommended. She was keeping close tabs on him to minimize the risk, but overdosing was a real danger. Time was of the essence.
Jennifer looked up for her desk and growled in frustration. Her hair kept falling annoyingly in her face while she worked. Heaving a sigh, she put her pen between her teeth and opened up the drawer on her right for something to tie it back with. Her fingers were halfway through twisting things into place when she heard a familiar voice.
"Hello, luv."
Thrilled to hear the lilt of his accent, Jennifer smiled and lifted her head, bringing the right side of her face into full view. "Carson!"
The Scot's eyes went wide. "Dear Lord! What happened to you?"
Jennifer blanched. She almost forgot. She'd tried to fool herself into thinking her make-up was covering the dark marks across her jaw and cheek, but it really wasn't helping much at this stage. Maybe in a few more days, but at this point she may as well have waved a flag that said "Ronon was here".
"It's … a long story."
Dr. Beckett came around, sat on the corner of her desk, and folded his arms across his chest. "Then start talking, lass. I have a sneaking suspicion that I've missed a lot."
So Jennifer talked. First, she told him about the Athosians leaving the city, Teyla's simultaneous departure, and the rumors going around that her leaving wasn't just a coincidence of timing. She and the Colonel had split up. Carson was skeptical.
"Nobody who ever saw those two together could believe that," he said. "Not to mention, they've got that wee baby on the way. Don't you go listening to that nonsense."
Jennifer grinned, hoping he was right, but she'd seen the state Col. Sheppard had been in lately and she had her doubts. She moved on to Richard Woolsey and how things had changed under the new management. Then, she briefly touched on McKay and Katie Brown getting back together and Mason, before she started into the explanation of her face. She didn't get very far though.
While she was talking, she happened to glance past Carson into the main infirmary. Ronon walked in with Lt. Garrity, who had a trickle of blood dripping from his brow. She dove under her desk, sending her chair sliding backward and leaving Beckett looking incredibly bewildered.
"Uhh ... Jennifer?"
"Shhh!" She continued at a whisper, tempted to laugh at his amused expression but tempered by the situation. "Would you mind taking care of them? It's probably best that I stay here until they're gone."
"Under the desk?"
"Yes, Carson. Under the desk."
Beckett turned to see Ronon searching the room like hawk searches for its prey. The intensity written on his battle-hardened features spelled things out for him. "I take it that nasty bruise you're sporting is courtesy of our friend, Ronon?"
"Yes," Jennifer said, "but it was an accident."
"From the looks of it, you were lucky he didn't accidentally break your jaw."
"Carson, please. I'll explain, I promise. Could you please just take care of them?" she pleaded.
"Alright, luv. I'd do anything for you, I suppose."
"Thank you," she breathed as he stepped out of the office.
Five months in these quarters and the only thing John had ever made in it was coffee. Soon after they moved in, Teyla made a few attempts to christen the kitchen, but they soon abandoned the cooking idea. It wasn't for a lack of ability – on his part anyway – or a desire to. He was usually too busy to plan something, get ingredients from the mess hall and whip something up, and it hadn't been long before Teyla couldn't stomach the sight or smell of food in general. Blue jell-o was the only exception and for that alone Teyla made the trip to the mess three times a day.
He'd woken up that morning stiff, groaning, and not rested at all. He rolled off the couch and onto his feet, beginning the routine he'd fallen into ever since Teyla left. He yawned and stretched, trying to work out the kinks. Then there had been the customary avoidance of looking at anything that reminded him of the woman he loved as he made his way to the bathroom, showered and got cleaned up. He tried to tell himself that it helped. But it didn't. Not a bit.
Once he'd gotten his uniform on, he ambled back into the kitchen to start the coffee. While he waited for that to get going, he grabbed his laptop and went through his inbox. There were the usual messages from different department heads. Wilcox, the new psychologist, had sent through another request that all military personnel make routine visits. Like that was gonna happen. McKay sent one demanding that Sgt. Haggerty be reassigned back to Earth. Grounds for complaint: being stupid enough to touch an experiment while it was running. Hmm. Rodney was probably overreacting a tad, but he'd have to have a talk with Haggerty.
To his surprise, there were even a few messages from Earth. Yesterday was the scheduled update from the SGC. He'd forgotten. He read down the handful of names. General Landry. Cam. Carter had dropped him a line from the Hammond by way of Cheyenne Mountain. There was a message from a lawyer, who was growing increasingly demanding that he sign transfer of ownership papers on the properties his dad had left him. Apparently, this guy hadn't gotten the memo that he was out of town. Then, there was Dave. They'd been writing back and forth fairly regularly, but things had dried up in the last few months. John opened the file.
… I've been spending a lot of time on a new project. It takes me away a lot. I spend most of my time in D.C. these days. The company's in good hands. Shelley's taken over the reins and is doing my job better than I did. I can't help myself sometimes, though. I still look over her shoulder more often than she'd probably like.
John got up and poured himself a cup of coffee. With careful sips, he read on.
I'll have to get you my new contact information as soon as I find myself an apartment out here, just in case you ever decide to come for a visit. Knowing you, I don't think I'll hold my breath, but the invitation stands.
Since John had returned from Earth, Dave hadn't mentioned a word about the big secret and he didn't really know what to make of it. For weeks, Dave had stubbornly refused to quit asking questions about his life and career despite his repeated refusal to answer. John had finally caved and left him a clue, but either Dave was in denial, he just didn't get it, or he was smart enough not to mention it on monitored channels. John didn't have any idea what was going on in his head.
… I got your list. The ring I think I can manage, but the baby stuff? You should've sent pictures, a diagram, and a sherpa. I don't know a thing about what constitutes a good crib from a bad one! And apparently there are a hundred different sizes of diapers and there's a window for every size. You go beyond the window and ... I don't know what happens, but it's bad. Seriously, John. I get that you and Teyla are a little far away from a mall, but take my advice—get your ass back here and take her shopping! Women have a natural instinct for this stuff that I DO NOT possess.
John looked around his quarters. There was a bedroom just off the kitchen that had no purpose yet. He and Teyla had tossed around a few ideas, but they were stuck somewhere between man cave and meditation room. On the other side of the living room was the master, where John and Teyla were, and the third room was right next to it. Without realizing he'd done anything, the light in the smaller room lit up. He tried to shut it off, but he couldn't seem to do it.
Traitor. Not even the city was gonna leave him alone.
He walked to the baby's room to do it the old fashioned way. There wasn't much in it yet, just a pile of blankets folded up neatly in a corner and a box of toys made by some of the Athosians prior to their relocation. He crouched down and picked up a tiny model Jumper carved out of wood. John could tell it was done by one of the kids, but it was actually really good and they all knew he liked to fly. Twirling the little wooden jumper carefully in his hand, he wondered if his kid would like it as much as he did.
It had taken him awhile to get used to the idea of being a dad. The diapers and the crying had always been something he knew he'd figure out when the time came. Mostly, John had worried whether he'd be able to balance his career and raising a kid. He didn't want to be an absentee father. He'd had one of those and he didn't want his kid to have that kind of childhood. He didn't want to miss anything, but look how things had turned out. He wasn't fast enough to save Teyla from the fall that could've cost both of their lives. In a moment of anger and stupidity he'd driven her away, and now he stayed where he was, separated from the woman he loved more than anything and the child they'd made together, because he was too afraid to find out she might not want him anymore.
John sank to his knees, his throat starting to close. The sting of tears clawed their way to the surface and he tried to choke them back. Ronon was right, he was a coward. The baby wasn't even born yet and he was already a failure as a father. His son or daughter didn't deserve this. His baby deserved a better man for a father—someone who would fight for his family, not back off because things got hard.
"Colonel Sheppard?"
It took him a few seconds to put his pent up emotions back in the box where he'd been trying to keep them hidden and get the frog out of his throat long enough to answer Dr. Beckett on the comms.
"Carson? When did you get back?" John asked, his voice still not cooperating.
"Just now, Colonel. We need to have a little talk about Ronon."
John gently set the toy jumper back in the box and rose to his feet. "I'll be right down."
If the padded dummy in the gym could talk, it would've been screaming for mercy and its pleas would have fallen on deaf ears. With Tyre's sword singing as it ripped through the air, Ronon ferociously attacked the phantom wraith in front of him. John watched unnoticed from the doorway while his best friend worked himself into a lather, striking back at his enemies in the only way he could. He used every move he'd ever learned, whether from his Satedan battle training or from his years of running, to deal the dummy what would've been death blow after death blow.
Sweat pouring off his brow and the rage inside only increasing, Ronon gave a primal howl and drove the sword straight through the dummy's heart. John thought that might call an end to the bestial assault, but Ronon pulled the weapon and swung one more time. Fluff sprayed the room as the stuffed head flew toward the colonel's position.
His chest heaving, Ronon finally made eye contact with John.
"I think it's dead."
"Go away, Sheppard," Ronon growled.
"Can't. See, I've been getting reports of a crazy man loose in Atlantis and I was hoping you could help me track him down."
"Funny," Ronon said, not appreciating the joke.
John bent over and picked up the unfortunate head and tossed it to Ronon. "Keller tells me you've been sending a lot of bodies her way. Beckett just finished patching up the last one. I think you've blown your allotted number of sparring accidents for the month already and it's only been a few days. You may want to pace yourself."
"What do you want?"
"I'm just trying to figure out if I've got any men left," he said.
Ronon gave it some thought before replying, "Lorne. And Capshaw hasn't shown his face in here yet."
"Two." John folded his arms. "Can't wait to tell Woolsey Atlantis is being guarded by two good men."
"Four," Ronon said. "You're probably worth two."
"In that case, I suppose that makes the count fifteen," John said, taking the compliment and handing it right back. "There's you and I figure you're worth at least another ten. Fifteen doesn't sound so bad. I can work with that."
They were able to laugh a little. But when the smiles died, silence fell over them, the loudest silence either of them had ever heard, laced with the scent of guilt, grief, and perceived betrayal. "Sheppard ..." Ronon started.
"We're good, Ronon," the colonel assured him. "You don't have anything to be sorry about."
Ronon screwed his jaw. He couldn't have disagreed more. "How's Keller?"
"You haven't, uh ..."
"No."
John understood the Satedan's reluctance to face the young doctor perfectly. "She's fine, pal. No real harm done."
Ronon didn't buy John's assurances at all. He remembered every wretched second of his torture and the events that followed. He recalled opening his eyes from the stun blast to realize he was about to be trapped in those restraints, and he knew exactly how hard he'd hit her. It was a blow that would have brought down a man three times her size. There was no way she came out of it untouched and unaffected.
It wasn't as though he'd never raised his hand to a female. Ronon had fought women before. Teyla, Ara, and countless others—all warriors, capable of giving as good as they got, who wouldn't hesitate to strike back. But the sweet-tempered doc was a different breed. He no longer counted her among the weak. Despite her soft-hearted and naive manner, Jennifer had a kind of strength that continually surprised him. But she wasn't made for combat. She used her strengths to help others whenever and however she could and she didn't deserve the vicious attack he'd given her.
"Here," John said to him. While Ronon was distracted, he had fished out the bantos rods from his gym bag. John threw him a set and took a couple for himself. "Let's see if we can't whittle down those numbers a bit more. Atlantis is pretty well protected. We've got a ZPM, the shield, and the drones. Fifteen's probably on the excessive side."
Ronon actually managed a half-smile. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
John shrugged. He took up a position in the center of the room and casually swung the weapons, loosening up his arms. "I'm willing to give it a shot. Maybe you're right. This is the better way to go, hiding out in the gym and avoiding having to look anyone in the eye."
"You aren't in any position to talk to me about looking people in the eye."
"Fair enough," John said. "I win – you stop taking apart the U.S. military single-handed and have a talk with Keller. You win – I'll get in a jumper and go see Teyla. Deal?"
Ronon nodded and squared himself opposite the colonel, preparing for a fight.
As he raised his weapons and braced himself, John looked as serious as Ronon felt. "Just remember. This is what it feels like to kick somebody's ass and mean it. What happened to you wasn't your fault and you didn't mean to hurt the doc. She knows that."
"You done?"
"You do realize that when you're done with me you're gonna have to take me to the infirmary anyway, right?" John added, seeing the bloodlust rising in Ronon's eyes.
"Yep," the Satedan mumbled. "Are you ready or not?"
John took a deep breath. "Ready."
"Mr. Woolsey, we have an unscheduled contact," Chuck said from his console in the Gateroom.
"Raise the shield," he ordered.
"Done."
Richard was still relatively new to the command of the Atlantis expedition and was still getting used to this side of the job, taking on unexpected and potentially dangerous situations. He earned his position because the IOA thought he was eminently qualified as an administrator and political negotiator. The fact that they thought he would toe the party line was merely a bonus.
Never able to be sure what was coming through the Gate, he wondered what hazard they would face today. Was it the first sign of an invasion? Would they be forced into battle? Lives could be lost, but they had to protect the city at all costs. How many good men and women would he have to send to their deaths?
"It's the Athosian IDC, sir."
"Ah," he said. He yanked on the bottom of his uniform, straightening it up. We'll save the invasion for another time, then. "Lower the shield, Chad."
"It's Chuck."
"Yes, yes. Chuck. If you would do the honors?"
The shimmering presence of the shield disappeared and, moments later, Halling and Jinto stepped through the event horizon carrying bags that appeared to be both full and heavy.
Carefully placing the bags on the ground, Halling greeted Woolsey as he descended the stairs. "Good day to you, Mr. Woolsey."
"Halling, it's nice to see you again so soon."
"I apologize for coming unannounced. We were trading on Kyson and they made an interesting request of us. We thought it best to speak with you about it as soon as possible."
Richared was intrigued. "You followed the security procedures we discussed?"
Halling nodded. "We traveled through several Stargates before arriving here, Mr. Woolsey. We were not followed."
"Excellent," Richard said. "If you'd like, you can leave your belongings here and we can discuss this request in the conference room."
