Tempest in a Teacup, Part 2 of 3: Silent Blitzkrieg
TAG to "The Storm" and "The Eye"
This scene starts immediately following the ending of "The Eye."
Doctor Elizabeth Weir, expedition leader of Earth's farthest outpost into the outermost reaches of the universe, had largely recovered from the strain placed upon her by the last day.
Staring into John Sheppard's ice cold eyes, filled with a severe determination that defied rationality and reality, daring the universe to try to stop him, as they blazed with their cold fire, firing a single round that had ripped through Kolya's shoulder, was an experience that had left her shaken. Both because of her understanding that Kolya had absolutely now compunctions about simply shooting her, and partially because while she had understood who John Sheppard was, she had never witnessed him on the battlefield. In a crisis situation, sure, and in situations where those he cared about were in jeopardy - she had seen glimpses, but never the whole picture.
Now she had witnessed him in action, facing the enemy, and while witnessing John's implacable will and merciless expression had shaken her, as she looked at the apparently lackadaisical man leaning on the rail of the Atlantis control room, looking down as the Athosian civilians returned to the base, scattered military personnel accompanying them, it filled her with relief and an odd sort of comfort.
Nor was John the only one of "her boys" who provided that confidence and optimism about Atlantis' chances, despite the knowledge of the odds they faced. Rodney McKay had stepped in front of a gun for her.
Doctor McKay, the uncaring, purely scientific and utterly rational scientist she had met before the expedition, would never have done such a thing. Despite the lie he proclaimed so confidently to Kolya, there were no codes that she knew that he did not required to raise the gate shield. And while his later protestations that he was a terrible liar were edged with truth, when it came to the crisis moment, the crossroads that determined whether or not she would live or die, he had placed himself in the line of fire.
McKay was now, as he so often was, hunched over the Ancient computer system that oversaw gate operations, complaining bitterly to Zelenka and Grodin about the damage the system had taken when he had flooded Atlantis with the electricity that would go on to power the city's shield.
Weir shook her head, bemusedly, and turned away as she heard her name.
"Elizabeth, this is the last group," John called from the rail, already jogging over to the stairs that led down. He was joined by Teyla - the Athosian was still shaken by her run in with the Genii woman Sora, who after an aborted escape attempt had ended up in a cell on the confinement level - and both of them hurried down the stairs to greet the last of the military contingent.
Sergeants Stackhouse and Bates were the last two to come through, both cradling their P90s to their chests as they walked through. Stackhouse's expression was one of excited concern - the news of what had happened on Atlantis had filtered through the Stargate when they called Manara to tell the displaced expedition members that it was safe to return, and while he'd been close to neither Cormier nor Forman, the military contingent was a close-knit, small group and the loss had hit him hard.
Bates' expression was closer to thunderous. He'd been unable to voice his outrage to his superiors while on Manara and clearly intended to make up for lost time. John and Teyla greeted the two men as the rest of the military officers either idled around assisting the Athosians or headed to the lockers to change and put away their arms.
Sheppard preempted Bates' impending questioning session. "Is everyone back?"
"No," said another voice. Sheppard turned, recognizing the de-facto leader of the Athosian population, Halling. The big Athosian wore an unhappy expression. "Doran did not return with us. We asked after him, but the Manarans were unhelpful."
"I bet his code was the one used to penetrate our Stargate," Bates commented. Next to Sheppard, Teyla shifted uncomfortable.
"It was," John affirmed. That had been one of their first orders of business following saving Atlantis - determining how the Genii had managed to get through Atlantis' defenses in the first place. The code that Cormier had recognized and lowered the gate shield for had been Doran's code, replete with both the full sequence and the required fingerprint ID.
Weir had, at this point, idled up and stood equidistant between Sheppard and Bates. "The commander of the Genii strike force, Kolya, implied that Doran had been subdued with alcohol and coerced into sending the ID confirmation that allowed them to port in."
"If Doran has not been found, then he is probably dead," said Teyla. "Kolya is not one who will be remembered for his mercy."
"Hopefully the bullet I put in him will mean our only future encounters with him will be in our memory, but I doubt it," Sheppard muttered.
Bates shook his head. "We should never have given out IDCs to the Athosians, we should have made sure they were in the hands of military personnel. This would not have happened and Cormier and Foreman would still be alive." Halling and Teyla both took on slightly affronted expressions, but neither was willing to contradict his statement.
"That is neither here nor there, Sergeant. We'll reevaluate our IDC policy at a later time and determine the best way of ensuring that this cannot happen again," Weir interrupted.
Next to her, Sheppard shook his head. "You know, this just doesn't make any sense to me. In order to be able to attack us in the first place, the Genii had to know that we were vulnerable and know where to find an IDC to get through the gate shield. The only people who even knew that we were going to be in a tough spot were us and the Manarians." His eyes hardened slightly. "They had to have sold us out. I can't think of another alternative."
Bates nodded, expression speculative. "I didn't like this plan from the start because I didn't trust Smeadon. He was willing to trade with him, but he demanded in return far more than other planets have requested in return. He doesn't strike me as someone who makes favors. If he saw opportunity to make a profit, he would take it. He probably called the Genii and told them of our difficulty in exchange for something."
Halling frowned. "How would Smeadon have known the Genii were anything other than the rural farmers that they outwardly appear to be?"
"After we discovered their secret, it became inevitable that others would eventually learn of it," Teyla pointed out.
"If I were Cowan," John said, "I would go and tell all my trading partners who and what I was immediately, retaining any good faith that would have been broken if we had informed them instead." He turned to Teyla. "The Genii trade with the Manarians, don't they?"
She nodded. "The Genii were the ones who told us of Manara, in fact."
Sheppard shrugged. "That's probably what happened."
"Two of our men are dead," Bates said, voice harsh. "Three, including the Athosian. And we trust these people to continue to supply us with food?" He shook his head bitterly. "How can we trust them now that we know they've sold us out once already? Clearly Smeadon would do it again in an instant if it suited his purposes."
"We will have to end our trade relationship with the Manarians immediately," Weir agreed. She grimaced. "It couldn't come at a worse time," she admitted. "With the destruction of the Athosian village on the mainland, we'll have to put up much of the Athosian community again here on Atlantis until it gets rebuilt, and our food requirements will go up. What's worse, we've lost all the Athosian crops and any meat from hunting that they provide until the settlement is reestablished. We'll need to find a new trading partner as soon as we can."
Sheppard smiled. "Doctor, I have an idea about solving our immediate food problem," he said. "Permission to undertake a little mission?"
Weir's face was skeptical. "How little?"
"My team and pilots and co-pilots for a pair of jumpers. Bates, Markham, and Stackhouse will do... we'll need a second pilot." He grinned at Teyla. "You flew with Beckett, think he's up for it?"
As Teyla began to shake her head in the negative, reminding Sheppard that the good doctor was still recovering from the blow to the head Sora had inflicted during the Genii strike, Weir mimicked the motion. "No, John. I'm not letting you go off to get revenge on the Manarians. We don't need to develop that kind of reputation-"
Sheppard cut her off. "Who said anything about revenge? I want to... cut off diplomatic relations. And solve our immediate food problems." He grinned at her, an expression that both begged trust and did little to inspire it. "Trust me."
She began to shake her head no, but his expression changed from a wry one to a more serious one. "Elizabeth," he said, all humor gone. Hearing her name from him was still a novel experience and she smiled slightly - both of them missed the speculative, suspicious look from Bates as he glanced between them. "Trust me," Sheppard said again.
Weir sighed. "Promise you won't do anything I'll remand you for later?"
"If we have to, we'll censor our reports."
"That doesn't do much to encourage my confidence, John."
Sheppard's face took on a full blown grin. "Trust me."
-Stargate Atlåntis-
"Am I making a mistake?" Weir asked the person next to her, his head buried in electronic information as he finished his overview of the damages Atlantis had sustained in the recent storm, what sections needed repair and what sections needed inspection.
Rodney McKay snorted at the question. Stupid question. "Letting Major Sheppard loose on a planet of people who he thinks are his enemy, but they don't know he's their enemy? And letting him decide what their status as his enemy entitles him to do? Of course you're making a mistake." He shuddered. "At least I'm not going. I have no idea how I would get him out of this one, whatever he ends up doing."
Weir winced, putting McKay's answer out of her mind and wandering over to the rail overlooking the Stargate. On the floor below, she heard Sheppard and Ford going through a pre-mission checklist, each one strapping weapons into place and checking their armor.
"MP5s?"
"Check."
"Enough for everyone?"
"Everyone on the ground will be carrying one and three extra clips."
"Reconnaissance gear?"
"We've got what we need, but most of the stuff is on Jumper One with Markham and Stackhouse, sir."
"Grenades?"
"More than enough."
"Did I miss anything?"
Ford snorted. He doubted John Sheppard had ever missed an item on a pre-mission checklist. "No sir."
"Well, that's good." Sheppard turned to angle his head up to look at Weir, but he called out to Rodney. "Light her up, McKay!"
Grumbling, McKay punched in the address for Manara. Weir, finally resigning herself to letting John have his way this time, just stared down at him with her most serious expression.
Sheppard grinned. "I know, Elizabeth." Then he turned to Ford and Teyla and slapped the butt end of his MP5. "Shall we?"
Ford shrugged, striding out in front. He stopped at the mouth of the Stargate, brushing the event horizon with the tip of his MP5, waving it slightly, before taking a deep breath and walking through. Teyla followed and Sheppard took the time to throw Weir one last, perfunctory salute before practically dancing through the Stargate.
The gate stayed open for forty-five more seconds, two loud splashes breaking the silence, the waves that filled the Stargate rippling as it was punctured. Then Weir sighed, leaning heavily against the rail as the gate shut down.
-Stargate Atlåntis-
One thing that John Sheppard had learned during his years of (mostly) exemplary military service was that an obvious frontal attack against enemy forces was highly undesirable. Stealth and subtlety were, in his opinion, far preferable (and far less likely to result in military funerals).
The Genii had proven that they were not entirely impossible - but the Genii had something going for them when they attacked Atlantis. That being a momentary lapse in the security of the place they were attacking while it attempted to determine whether or not they were friend or foe. The elaborate disguises that the Genii had worn permitted them to get close enough to eliminate all the defenses Atlantis had had, save Sheppard himself.
The Manarians did not have Major Sheppard in their back pocket.
When Sheppard came through the Stargate, he nodded formally to Ford and Teyla, both standing idly at the side of the Stargate under the cautious gaze of Manarian sentinels. "Heya guys," Sheppard said lightly, tossing them a halfhearted salute. "Where's Smeadon? There's something we need to talk about."
The guards, glancing at one another with slight misgivings, were sufficiently distracted that they didn't notice Sheppard carefully step away from the Stargate or hear the two silent, invisible jumpers come through the gate and fly up any away from the city.
They returned, one of them talking on an antiquated radio while the other gestured them forward. "The Magistrate has agreed to meet with you. This way."
Sheppard grinned at Ford. "Oh happy day," he said, half excited, half sarcastic.
"Yes sir."
The older military man turned his head imperceptibly to Teyla and winked. The Athosian nodded subtly and fell out of step.
By the time Ford and Sheppard reached the Magistrate's office, she had long since disappeared, her absence explained away with several marginal excuses and an over-enthusiastic check on his MP5's ammunition by Ford.
The two guards ushered Ford and Sheppard into Smeadon's office. The Manarian's large, oval table was much like they remembered it and each moved over towards the seats they had occupied during their most recent visit to this planet. Then they had begged Smeadon's assistance (emphasized by the weapons they carried, any one of which greatly outclassed the Manarian firearms in terms of quality, although the more primitive Manarian weapons were lethal enough if used properly).
Smeadon smiled magnanimously. "I trust that your people found their accommodations while here on our world most satisfactory?"
Well, except the one who died after sharing your company, Sheppard thought bitterly. Not a trace of his thoughts appeared on his well-schooled face and he smiled in the way a subordinate smiles at their immediate superior. "Doctor Weir offers her thanks for your most gracious assistance in our time of trouble, Magistrate. She wished to convey that we are fully aware of the debt that we owe and will do our best to repay it at our earlier convenience."
The smile on Smeadon's face faltered for half an instant, but he recovered quickly. "It was all we could do for a... friend." He frowned slightly. "Why are you here now?"
Sheppard allowed his face to morph into a chagrined frown. "I am afraid our recent trouble have had an unanticipated consequence. Our food supplies were devastated by the unfortunate storm that hit Atlantis and we are here to trade for whatever you might spare." He held up a placating hand, anticipating Smeadon's concerns. "We are aware we already were trading for a considerable portion of your crop and we do not wish to burden you any more than we already have, but... we're really in trouble here now, Smeadon."
Smeadon nodded. "Come, let us discuss what we each might offer." The magistrate's face had retained its calm composure, but he couldn't hide the light in his eyes at the thought of Atlantis, desperate and at his mercy.
Three long, excruciating hours later, (hours which Sheppard and Ford had intentionally made as difficult as possible, attempting to learn exactly what Manara could and could not spare, alternatively offering various things they had no intention of trading and demanding amounts of supplies greatly in excess of what Manara could possibly offer or what they needed in order to draw out Smeadon's hand), they agreed to part company until the morning.
"Major, please take advantage of the suites here in the governmental complex to rest. We will conclude our negotiations in the morning."
Sheppard's expression was subdued and grateful. "Thank you sir." As the Manarians left him and Ford alone, he turned to his subordinate. Now his smile was positive wolfish. "Sooner than he thinks."
-Stargate Atlåntis-
The radio next to Smeadon's bed was one set to a very exact frequency, one that was to be used only in the most severe of crises. There were various other methods by which the Magistrate could be reached in such times, but the radio was intended only for the most desperate and immediately pressing - ostensibly, the only concern that could justify its use was a Wraith culling.
The radio practically screamed, static hissing and buzzing as it cackled in Smeadon's ear, yanking the man from sleep. He grabbed it. "Report! What's going on!"
The only reply he received was further static, the buzzing alternatively cackling in a quick staccato that mimicked Atlantian weapons fire and quiet silence of fallen personnel. Smeadon grabbed his robes, garbing himself quickly and belting them securely before grabbing his own weapon. He burst out into the corridor and across the hall, into the building's primary security section. "What's going on!"
The men in the room glanced at each other in confusion. One had been leaning back in his chair, legs up on the desk in front of the monitors, and he hastened to get himself into more proper form. "Sir?" One of the others asked. "We've had no reports, sir," he said, confused.
One of the monitors on the screen flickered out, buzzing into static that mirrored that of the radio that Smeadon still held in his hand. "What's going on!" Smeadon demanded.
The one man turned to the second man, the one whose feet had been up on the table. "With me," he ordered, hoisting his antiquated handgun and checking the clip. Both of them left into the corridor, their radios connected to Smeadon's.
"There doesn't appear to be any immediate threat on this floor," the radio spoke, the voices blurred as they broadcast. "We're moving to the second floor." There was a metal clanking sound as the two men moved into a stairwell and their feet pounded as they moved quickly down the stairs to the second floor. There were three floors in this building, which was one of the primary buildings in the small Menaran government complex. Most of the structures were for inventory, agriculture, and trade, but two were for purely governmental administrative purposes, and one of those was the Magistrate's complex, a three story residential building in the heart of the government complex.
"Checking out second floor," the radio said. Then it was silent, save for the much more subdued static than the radio had been screaming out earlier. "This is odd," the radio started again, the voice much quieter this time, and Smeadon heard quick movement as the two men moved from place to place. "This door appears to have been unlatched some time after evening check," the radio whispered.
There was a loud slam that sent the radio into apoplexy, then there was a clear gunshot and a thud that was probably a fist hitting a face. "Corporal? Corporal, report!" the third security man said anxiously into his radio, but all that came back was further static. The guard might have been lackadaisical about the performance of his duties - they had hardly seemed necessary, before tonight - but he was a trained professional. He grabbed Smeadon's arm and dragged the older man across the hall back into the bedroom, quickly sliding a wooden panel out of a dresser that decorated one of the walls. Behind it was a control panel and he punched in a code and on the interior of the dresser a wooden panel slid out and a reinforced metal door opened. The guard threw Smeadon into the darkened room and, still facing the door to the bedroom as if anticipating yet another threat, he cocked his gun. "We can broadcast an alert from in here, sir, and we'll be far more secure."
"You'd think so," a familiar voice murmured behind him, several paces back. At that distance, the guard couldn't judge how close the intruder was and, in the dark, probably wouldn't be able to stop him from killing the Magistrate if he intended to do so, but he knew his duty and he threw himself around, gun tracking in the darkness.
A red bolt darted out of the shadows, striking the man and tossing him backwards and down to the ground. "Stun weapons," the voice said conversationally, and Smeadon's heart sank as his panic gave way to recognition, the familiarity of the voice echoing in his memory and he knew who the voice belonged to.
"Yes sir. We've got lots of ships and weapons we can... help with." Smeadon stared upwards, dismayed, into the eyes of Lieutenant Aiden Ford as the young officer moved into the light that still streamed into the panic room from the open door to the bedroom. Ford smiled at him coldly, then raised his MP5. Another bolt of red light, like the one that had casually struck down his guard, struck Smeadon and the Magistrate fell to his knees, vision swaying.
In his last moments of consciousness, he heard Ford talk into his own radio. "I have him," he said.
-Stargate Atlåntis-
When Smeadon finally regained consciousness, he realized he hadn't moved very far. He had no, in fact, moved more than 20 feet from where he'd been struck down, and he wasn't tied or subdued in any way. He sat up, blinking to recover his vision, and froze as he recognized Major Sheppard calmly leaning on a rail, background twinkling with starlight, across from him. The Atlanteans had taken him out to his bedroom's balcony.
Ford was there, as was Teyla. Smeadon couldn't have known, but the Athosian woman had been the key to his current predicament. She, as it turned out, had traded with the Manarians before and knew many people on this planet, including one in particular who had come quite in handy - the man who was responsible for the architecture of the Magistrates' residence. The Athosians had used the man's unique skillset in the past during some of their own more considerable construction projects on Athos, and he had been friends with her father - and he'd owed her a favor.
Not that she would have needed that favor to acquire the plans for the building. Smeadon had held on to power over them for quite some time, longer than any of their previous leaders, due to his ability to manipulate and obfuscate. Many of his people had grown somewhat disaffected with his rule and Teyla's friend had only been more than happy to help.
"Here's the deal," Sheppard started, staring down at Smeadon's prone body. "We've just come to an agreement, you an I, on a final trade that will conclude our trade relationship. After this last trade, we will no longer trade with the Manarians - and we will, I'm afraid, tell as many people as Teyla knows about your unfortunate habit of allowing guests to be kidnapped, tortured, and killed." Sheppard smiled coldly. "We're taking as much food as you can spare. Everything. We're not going to take so much as to handicap your people, but don't think you'll be living in luxury for much longer."
Smeadon grimaced. "You said trade. This sounds like extortion."
"You are responsible for the deaths of three people under my protection. We'll take the food we need, end our relationship, and call it even." Sheppard's eyes glowed menacingly. "At least I'm not Kolya. He didn't like even."
Smeadon shook his head. "You'll never get out of here. There are only three of you and there are hundreds of guards in the administrative complex. Even if you could, you'll never be able to move all that food without my help and I'm not going to help you."
"Maybe," Sheppard admitted. "But there's still another card in play that you haven't seen yet." Sheppard raised his hand to his ear. "Bates?"
Less than five feet from the edge of the balcony, Smeadon's vision shimmered, the stars that blanketed the sky vanishing as an oval-shaped vessel appeared interposed itself between Smeadon and the sky. The Ancient space ship, now designated Jumper 1, tiled downwards, the two men at her controls calmly maintaining her location. As Smeadon watched, the ship's weapons ports opened, glowing with barely restrained energy.
"Besides, I don't think you'll be in much of a position to dictate," Sheppard commented. "After all, when we tell the rest of your people that you betrayed people under your protection to their enemy for a purely personal gain, I don't think they'll be too happy. Do you?"
-Stargate Atlåntis-
When the Jumpers returned, laden will supplies and an excessively smug Major Sheppard who insisted on briefing her on their exploits himself, Weir had to hold back a sigh. "Do you have any idea how many rules you just broke?"
"I do."
"You do?"
"Yes, Doctor. I do."
"Do you have any idea how much trouble you could get into for this?"
Sheppard smiled. "None."
"And how's that?"
"Because, Elizabeth, my report is going to say, simply, that negotiations were conducted and concluded and that both sides mutually agreed to end their partnership. And that's all."
Elizabeth Weir did sigh, then, rubbing her temple as a headache began to form. But, she admitted, it wasn't exactly a lie (and it might even have been the truth), and neither was it exactly an omission (thought it wasn't the whole truth).
Unwillingly, she found herself smiling back, even as she slouched down, leaning on the hand she had rubbed her temple with. "You, Major Sheppard, are trouble."
He grinned.