Stephen Caldwell was having a difficult time of things.
Not in managing the city; Elizabeth Weir kept extremely detailed notes of everything going on around the base, as well as Atlantis's dealings with the galaxy, so there was no trouble there.
But he had no idea how she commanded such a tight, smooth ship in light of the bevy of personalities that occupied the city.
Stephen wasn't a fool; he was more than well aware of how difficult people could be. He dealt with a rather varied crew daily on the Daedalus; plus, he had to manage Hermiod and his surprisingly picky ways. It was a balance that ran a very fine line.
But that balance was achieved through the devotion each of the Daedalus members had to the one thing that bound them together—their military lineage. With the exception of Hermiod, each and every person on board ship believed in and followed the hierarchy of the military. When times got tough, as they often did in this strange galaxy, Stephen knew that every member of his ship would be willing to follow orders to the letter and sacrifice whatever they had, even their lives, in the name of their planet, their ship and their cause.
With Atlantis, it was obvious the people felt the same way about their fellow expedition members and their city. But they did not have the same linear thinking as Stephen's military crew.
He'd already had to deal with McKay twice today, for example. The man was a genius at solving problems and nearly indispensible to the mission—a fact he was well aware of, unfortunately. While he did follow orders when asked, he did so with such disdain it was still surprising Weir hadn't chucked him out of the program two years ago.
Then there was Sheppard and his uneven attitude. Though there was obvious reason for that—Elizabeth's disappearance had worn down even the most stalwart of her marines—Sheppard had always been a bit of a loose cannon in the Air Force's book, and this situation did little to disprove it.
The SGC had long ago advised Weir to carefully consider her choice of a military commander, and she'd turned her nose up at them, opting instead to put her faith in a helicopter pilot with a suspect record. That had never sat well with him—not personally, for the Air Force had rewarded him well for his years of service—but professionally. At the time it had seemed like a juvenile, rookie attitude to take when the lives of two hundred people were at stake.
But then, maybe she'd been right. Sheppard had proven his worth during the Siege of Atlantis and beyond. Materialistically, he lacked a few things—a good command of power and a sense of organization, for starters—but he knew his people and he knew this galaxy, and even Stephen would have to admit that he'd done a good job.
The unflagging loyalty of the rest of the base, including the seasoned marines who were shipped here from time to time, was also surprising. He didn't know what Elizabeth and Sheppard had done, but it was quite clear from the attitudes of their people that they were fiercely devoted to their leadership.
There was still a part of him, however, which found it difficult to accept Sheppard, and incidents like today's fight with Radim seemed to confirm that he was as unstable as the Air Force had initially suspected. Maybe Elizabeth was able to keep him in line, but without her here, now, he seemed one step short of a complete meltdown.
"Colonel?"
He turned as Chuck, the technician who manned the gate, stepped up to the archway of Elizabeth's office.
"We have a message incoming from SGC."
Stephen rose, following the young man to the control room, where the Stargate hummed below them. After a few moments, Walter, the SGC technician, greeted them.
"Go ahead SGC, we read you."
"Hello Colonel." General Landry replied, his image appearing on the raised monitors above. "How are things in the Pegasus?"
"A little disorganized, General. But I'm sure that's no surprise to you."
Landry offered up a small smile. "Any luck in the search?"
"I'm afraid not. The Immarians have us stonewalled. Doctor McKay hasn't been able to make anything of the gate addresses we've recovered from M1M-136 and some of the contacts we've made with locals suggest this race is one that keeps their true identities pretty well concealed."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"You're not the only one." He turned as Sheppard and McKay made their way into the control room. "However, it's possible we may turn up a few leads in the next couple of days."
"Yes, well, unfortunately, the IOA isn't as optimistic as you are, Stephen."
"Sir?"
"They've arranged an emergency meeting at 1700 today. Seems they're a little concerned about what might happen when reports of Elizabeth's disappearance start rolling around the galaxy."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sheppard asked, staring at the monitors with an unusual level of intensity.
"The IOA is worried that once word gets out, certain…entities…will feel it is within their power to test the strength of Atlantis again."
"You mean the replicators," McKay muttered.
"Or the Wraith. We know some of them are aware of Atlantis's existence. It may only be a matter of time before they begin to rally themselves and test the strength of our defenses again."
"If the Wraith wanted to attack Atlantis they could do it whether or not Elizabeth was here," Sheppard retorted. "And the Replicators have shown no interest in Atlantis since their last attack. So what exactly is this really about?"
The General smiled uncomfortably. "Let's just say the IOA is being extremely cautious."
"Extremely controlling, you mean," McKay returned. "Isn't it obvious?" He turned to glance at Sheppard, who looked vaguely confused. "The IOA has questioned Elizabeth's command here before. Now, they've magically been presented with the perfect opportunity to replace her and they're jumping at the chance."
Landry frowned. "The IOA may cause Doctor Weir headaches from time to time but as far as I know they have supported her and fully support her one-hundred percent."
"Then why exactly are they doing this? There's no reason for them to move so fast. They could give us a week. Two weeks! Time to find her. It's only been three days!"
"And that is, I think, the problem. It's been three whole days. Three days with no word, no ransom requests—no contact. I don't think I have to go into what the IOA believes that might mean. Doctor Weir has the support of the President, the SGC AND the IOA and no one wants to supplant her as leader of Atlantis, Doctor McKay—as long as she's alive."
The implication silenced the scientist for a moment. Sheppard's confusion dissolved into an emotionless mask.
"So that's just it then," McKay finally said. "They're tossing in the towel and declaring Elizabeth as good as dead."
"He didn't say that, Rodney," Sheppard muttered after a few moments.
"Did he have to?"
"No one here has implied anything of the kind," Landry responded sharply. "But the IOA isn't going to run the risk of sitting back on their hands in case this situation doesn't turn out…favorably. We all want to find Elizabeth alive, but if we don't, the Pegasus Galaxy isn't going to grant us a few days vacation to get our act together." He turned to Stephen. "When the IOA meet this afternoon, they're going to discuss the future status of the Atlantis Expedition—including a potential replacement for Doctor Weir."
"Well, that's just…"
"Enough, Doctor," Stephen interrupted quietly. He returned his attention to Landry, who waited patiently in front of his camera. "I presume the IOA is considering resuming civilian control of the base?"
"That was my understanding, Stephen."
"How long is it going to take them to choose the replacement?"
"That's a bureaucratic call. But I would guess it will be sooner rather than later. As soon as we find out I'll let you know. But I wanted to give you all the heads up before you received 'official' word from them."
"Thank you, General. We'll have everything in working order when they contact us. Atlantis, out." Stephen turned to find McKay wearing a dark expression and Sheppard, hands on hips, his face still eerily blank.
"I knew this was a bad idea," the scientist snapped suddenly. "We should never have dialed Earth."
"And what would you have suggested, Rodney?" Sheppard retorted. "Pretending Elizabeth was around the next time they dialed in?"
"Possibly!"
"Telling them she stepped out for a minute and to leave a message wouldn't exactly fly with the SGC." Sheppard fixed him with a flat stare. "Look, they're just doing what they think is best for Atlantis. Diplomacy is their thing; let them handle it for now."
"What? What they think is best? They're talking about replacing Elizabeth—permanently!"
"It hasn't come to that yet."
McKay made a face. "What is it with you? One minute you're chastising me for being too pessimistic, the next you're throwing the Genii across desks because you suspect they might know something, now you're folding and letting the IOA walk all over you?"
"It's not that simple."
"Of course it's that simple! Do you want them here or not?"
"No, I don't want them here! But it's not about what I want, Rodney! Or what you want! It's about what's best for the Expedition."
McKay stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed. Caldwell looked confusedly between the two men, not quite certain he'd heard Sheppard right.
"So that's just it? We let the IOA come in and…nothing? We sacrifice Elizabeth because that's what's best for Atlantis?"
"We're not sacrificing Elizabeth!"
"The MINUTE the IOA representative gets here, whoever they choose, the last thing they're going to do is sanction a three-days-later Search and Rescue operation! You let them in here, you might as well declare Elizabeth's life forfeit, just like he did!" Rodney flicked a hand towards Stephen, who frowned.
"I don't recall saying anything of the kind, Doctor McKay."
"Well, you might as well have, with all the dragging of feet you've been doing," McKay retorted, then turned back to the Lieutenant Colonel. "You're supposed to be the one with all the crazy ideas around here! Why aren't you doing something?"
"What, now you want me to put you in danger?"
McKay stared for a moment. "Well, no! Look, all I'm saying is that siding with the IOA isn't going to help us find Elizabeth in any way. You may think you're doing Elizabeth some favors by doing the diplomatic thing and pretending to be her, but you're not!"
Sheppard's eyes widened for a moment and he took a breath, his face twisting into a dark expression. "Don't you lecture me about how to do my job, McKay. We've been over this before! As far as I'm concerned, the IOA can talk itself in circles, here or on Earth, for however the hell long they want. What matters at the moment is finding Elizabeth and protecting Atlantis. They're going to call the shots whether we like it or not, and I'm not going to waste time I could be using to look for her fighting with them. Elizabeth wouldn't want that."
"Colonel Sheppard is right," Stephen said.
McKay turned, looking at him with a surprised expression. "He…What?"
Stephen nodded at the Lieutenant Colonel. "Right now, we have the authority to engage in whatever measures are necessary to forward the operation. Until the IOA steps in and stops us, this remains a military search and rescue. Let's not waste the time we have arguing about what will happen once that changes. I don't think Doctor Weir would."
"You…agree…with him?"
Stephen locked gazes with Sheppard for a minute. "I do."
"Of course he does," McKay murmured to no one in particular.
The Lieutenant Colonel nodded once. "Right. Then…what are we wasting time for? We've got at least a couple of days left."
"And what if we don't find her before then?" McKay asked.
The intensity on Sheppard's face faded a bit and he bit his lip. Stephen sighed. "Let's cross that bridge when we come to it."
--/--
No one was present in the Hall when Elizabeth was escorted there the next morning. The pathway was conspicuously bare; even the small village had been deserted when they walked through. Whatever questions Elizabeth's appeal had raised in the minds of the Immarians—or it may have been precautionary for the nanites in her system—the leadership had deemed it 'unsafe' to be near her.
Karon and Sita, to her surprise, were also absent, as was the Healer, though whether by choice or by order was anyone's guess. In any case, Elizabeth had no support in the cold, bare void of the courtroom when Thorvir and the other judges took their seats.
"Elizabeth Weir," he called almost as soon as she reached the table, not even granting her a chance to sit, "you know the crimes with which you have been charged. This Council has levied a judgment against you. Do you wish to hear it?"
She swallowed, but her response came out evenly, thankfully. "Why wouldn't I?"
Thorvir made a face but nothing was said in response by either he or the guards. Instead, the justice at the end rose, his voice tainted with age.
"Doctor Weir, by order of the Council of Judges on the authority of the Elders of Immaria—and in accordance with the laws established by our Testament—you are sentenced to death by bludgeoning beyond the borders of the Rocks."
"WHAT?" Elizabeth struggled to keep her expression calm. "You told me it was to be exile!"
Thorvir raised an eyebrow. "That changed when it was proven that you posed a threat not only to our laws, but to our people."
Elizabeth's heart was racing, and a slow thrumming began to fill her ears. "This is unbelievable."
"This is our way."
"I hope, truly, that your ways change, Thorvir. Because while this may be what the Alterans began with, I cannot believe they would be proud of what you are."
"That is your opinion. We do what we must to keep our people safe."
Her throat felt dry. She rose, and as swiftly as she'd entered she turned down the aisle towards the door. There was a slight murmur from the bench.
"Do you have nothing more to say?"
She looked back towards them. "What more can I say? You've made your decision and as I am at your mercy, there is nothing more to be said. I just hope, for your sakes, you are fully prepared to deal with the consequences."
The judge studied her for a moment. "What do you mean?"
"My people do not give up on one of their own," she said sternly. "They will find where you have taken me, and when they do, they will discover what you have done. The result will not be in your favor."
"You spoke of equanimity and empathy, Doctor Weir. Are you now saying that, based on the punishment we've legally imposed, your people will enact revenge?"
"I suppose it depends on what you consider revenge," she returned, crossing her arms. "My people will not do as you have done, and fail to render a fair judgment against you. But I can promise you that any hope for compassion, or alliance, you might seek—any rights your people may try and claim to the city—they won't be acknowledged. You have just denied yourselves the one opportunity you may have had of learning about your Ancestors' pasts. And it will not just be my people who know this; every race in every corner of this galaxy that knows or may know of your existence will be forewarned about your intolerance, your bias, and the wrong you are about to commit. You will never enjoy the same privileges you now have in this galaxy ever again."
"You claim many things, Doctor," said Thorvir, his voice less stoic than before. "But we will not be threatened."
"That is not a threat, Thorvir. It is the truth."
"We shall see."
"For your sake, I hope not," she replied, and before he'd had a chance to respond, she'd turned towards the doors, her guards trailing in her wake.
--/--
Rodney tapped at his laptop, watching as the algorithm cross-referenced gate addresses with known locations. Like much of the other data brought back by the marines, it seemed to be leading nowhere. None of the factors that Rodney had included as part of the search seemed to correlate with any of the gate addresses.
Of course, the Immarians could have jumped ten times after landing at any one of these planets. Currently, Rodney and his team were only three jumps deep with M1M-316 as the gate of origin and they had nothing. The problem was, each hypothetical jump exponentially increased the number of potential destinations, and to collect them all required an increase in everything else—time, resources, manpower…all of which they didn't have. As the numbers increased, their hope of finding some lead or clue seemed to decrease in direct correlation. And that was not helping improve the overall attitude of his team members.
He was not accustomed to worrying about the scientists who made up his department; generally he allowed his assistants or co-heads to do that, but it was obvious, at this point, that many of them were on their last legs. Most had been up for nearly seventy-two hours, tirelessly scouring data and trying to come up with more effective tracking solutions. It was no less than what he would expect of the people he'd selected for his team, but it really stood more as a testament to what Elizabeth meant to the expedition as a whole. No one was giving up when there was still a chance she could be found.
Still, there was a limit. And even the most stalwart of those still looking would have to stop at some point, though it was obvious none of them wanted to quit.
It was an outlook he'd encountered from a number of different people, and frankly, some of them surprised him. Caldwell, for example, seemed to be throwing himself now into the search as aggressively as any of Elizabeth's loyal expedition members. After their discussion this morning, the Colonel had sanctioned a few rather questionable off-world investigations.
And that was nothing compared to the support they'd received from their allies: the Taranans, the Minerans, even the Hoffans—what was left of them—had offered aid. The Athosians, led by Halling, would have descended on Atlantis en mass had not Sheppard graciously explained that there was little they would be able to accomplish.
As for Sheppard…he remained the biggest puzzle for Rodney. He'd seen the man go to impossible lengths, including sacrificing his own life, in order to save his friends, and yet, when he should be pitching the biggest Sheppard fit over what the IOA was planning, he'd kept his mouth shut. It was baffling, really, especially since only a few hours earlier he'd nearly decapitated Ladon Radim at the mere mention of Elizabeth's kidnapping.
"It just doesn't make sense," he murmured.
"What doesn't, Rodney?" ask a weary voice across from him. Radek Zelenka looked up from his console. "Is your program not working correctly?"
"Uh…no…I mean, that's not it. It's…never mind," he returned, not feeling up to discussing a schizophrenic Sheppard. "Have you found anything?"
The Czech looked at him with tired eyes. "Nothing. None of the gate addresses brought back by the marines seem to be viable options for an Immarian homeworld."
"Well we'll just have to keep looking," Rodney muttered, ejecting the data disc and reaching for another one. The tablet read through the data and the cycle spun around again, scanning another thousand iterations.
He looked up again to find Zelenka still studying him and felt the irritation build. Despite the Czech scientist's brilliant capabilities, he had an uncanny knack for rubbing Rodney the wrong way. Or perhaps it was because of those capabilities. "What?"
"You should get some rest."
"Speak for yourself."
"I'm serious, Rodney. You look terrible."
"Oh well thanks. Not like I'm competing in Mr. Universe anytime soon."
"At this rate you're going to wear out your usefulness to anyone. And Doctor Weir would not want you to make yourself ill by overdoing things."
Rodney frowned, trying to tamp down his frustration. "What IS it with everyone wanting to do what Elizabeth would do? You are not Elizabeth. No one here isElizabeth. How can you possibly know what Elizabeth would want in a situation like this?"
Zelenka frowned, looking a touch more animated. "I would think it would be obvious."
"No, it's not obvious. It's the furthest thing from obvious. Elizabeth is a person, not a machine. She doesn't always want the same things all the time."
"You are correct. But I believe Doctor Weir thinks with her heart as well as her mind. That is not always easy to predict, but in general I believe it means she would want what is best for the people of Atlantis."
"What is best for the people of Atlantis is to find her. End of story."
"No, Rodney," Zelenka murmured. "That is what is best for you."
Rodney cast a swift glance at Zelenka, eyes narrowing. "That's not true."
"It is true. You are wanting to find her so badly you aren't thinking about anything else. If something happens…" he paused for a moment, his brow furrowing at Rodney's expression, "…I am only saying 'if'—but if something happens, well, that must be considered too. And Colonel Caldwell and Colonel Sheppard are only looking out for rest of the Expedition. I believe Doctor Weir would want that."
"Oh, enough with the philanthropy act! Look, I understand that there are things that have to be handled without Elizabeth here. That's why Caldwell was brought here in the first place. But the rest of us? We should be using our time to figure out where she could have been taken, not wasting it hypothesizing on the various ways in which we can make Elizabeth the most proud."
"It is not about making her proud, Rodney; it is about doing what she would want us to do to make sure the Expedition may continue without her."
"And why would we even want to think that? Huh?" Rodney pounded the table with his fist, wincing at little at the sharp pain in his broken finger. "That's defeatist, that's all there is to it."
The Czech sighed. "It may be defeatist, perhaps, but it is also a possibility that must be considered. Even you must know that."
They locked gazes for a moment, Rodney feeling a familiar sense of helplessness, mixed with anger, coursing through him. Moments like these, when he could do nothing but watch, and think, and watch more, frustrated him the most. He'd seen Sheppard tortured by Kolya, Elizabeth fight for her life against replicators—even Ronon tossed like an animal into the middle of a Wraith battle—and been unable to help. For everything that annoyed him about being forced to save the day in a pressure situation, it was the moments when he could do nothing that really made him feel like he might snap.
Zelenka seemed to be preparing for his retort; he held up a hand, but was stopped from saying anything by the soft sound of an electronic beep. He cast a swift glanced at Rodney, who skittered around the desk to look over his shoulder, nearly knocking Radek over.
The scanning program had stopped, listing one planet matching the factors that they'd used to narrow the search. Zelenka glanced at him, eyes wide, and Rodney only stared back a moment before tapping his radio. "Sheppard? Come in. I think we might have found something."