Here is chapter two, brought to you courtesy of a creative frenzy while waiting for my scan result - which, fortunately, was clear, so I have another three months to play with before the next one!
I had thought I'd get to the end of the day in this chapter, and begin chapter three with the first day of lessons but there were too many fun things to write, so that didn't happen! The good news is (more good news), I've written over a thousand words of chapter three and there are plenty more juicy ideas floating about in my head. I hope you like this chapter!
Sally
Chapter Two
A chilly wind swept across the platform and raised goosebumps on John's arms. He missed the friendly warmth of the carriage, and his eagerness to finally see what Atlantis Academy was like warred with apprehension. What if he didn't fit in? What if a mistake had been made and he shouldn't be there at all? Already he was set apart from the other first-years now that they were all wearing the Academy uniform and he wasn't - apparently there'd been another part to the letter which his foster parents had decided wasn't important.
John made an attempt to look uncaring, leaning against a pile of luggage, but actually he felt silly. He tugged at the hem of the black button-down shirt he'd put on over his t-shirt, and pushed back the sleeves, which were too long even though he'd rolled them up.
"Stop fidgeting. You look fine," said Rodney, smoothing down the sleeves of his zip-up jacket, the fabric stiff with newness. "At least it's all black. It's like you just haven't put the uniform jacket on."
"I have never worn anything that was not home made before," said Teyla. "It feels strange."
"It looks pretty strange," said Rodney. "Room for growth?"
Teyla held up her hands, the sleeves of her jacket covering them completely. "It belonged to Jinto," she said. Teyla had pointed out the two third-years, Jinto and his friend Wex, as they got off the train, but the two boys had left with the rest of the lively crowd. "I made the rest myself. At Athos House we usually dress in bright colours. To be restricted to black or grey is hard."
Rodney shuffled and peered up and down the platform. "They could dress us in sky blue pink for all I care," he said. "Are they going to leave us here all night?"
The platform had nearly emptied of older children, only the huddle of first-years and the great pile of trunks, cases and bags remaining. A plume of steam suddenly engulfed them and the engine gave a great huff, then another and, slowly picking up speed, it disappeared into the night.
"It's official," said Rodney. "We've been abandoned."
"First-years!" A gruff rumble behind John made him spin around. "First-years," the man said again and jerked his head toward a path that led down the side of the building.
Someone giggled nervously. A disdainful voice sneered, "What is that?"
The man ignored them both. He jerked his head once more, turned his back and walked away.
"Um." Rodney cleared his throat. "So, what, is this a test? To see if we're stupid enough to follow a giant caveman down a dark alley?"
"That was Ronon Dex," said Teyla. "He is the Keeper of the Grounds of Atlantis Academy. Come!" She grinned and took off, the thud of her sturdy boots retreating swiftly into the darkness. The other first-years slowly followed.
If the huge man had been an example of what to expect from the staff of the Academy, John was even more eager to get to his new school. He nudged Rodney. "That guy had knives," he said. "Did you see? A big scabbard across his back and another hanging from his belt. And I bet he had more."
"Oh, well, that's okay then," said Rodney. "We can be assured of a quick dispatch."
"Come on, Rodney!" John joined the flow of first-years, towing his new friend along with him.
The path left the side of the station building and wove through a copse of spindly trees. Somebody made a spooky owl noise and then laughed. Rodney tripped over a root and swore. Then there was a glint of light ahead and the fresh scent of water. A lake? John thought of swimming and fishing and maybe there'd be some boats they could take out.
They emerged from the trees, but the white of moonlight on water was suddenly blotted out and, with a whoosh and a blast of displaced air, a large object shot over their heads.
John ducked involuntarily. Rodney squeaked and several people screamed.
"What the hell was that?" Rodney remained bent over, his hands above his head.
"It was a Puddlejumper." Teyla beckoned to them. She stood at the top of a ramp at the threshold of a cylindrical vehicle with a raked nose and, for want of a better word, tail. There were two more of the vehicles and, as John watched, one of them rose silently into the air and shot off across the lake. "Come on!" Teyla urged. "Hurry!"
It was like stepping into the back of a truck. Boots (and John's old running shoes) rang on the metal ramp and he expected to hear the rumbling cough of a diesel engine and feel bumping vibrations as the thing started up.
"Sit down, you lunatic!" Rodney pulled John down onto one of the bench seats that lined either wall. "We'll probably get thrown around all over the place! Where are the seatbelts?"
A tall, dark-haired boy, a few years older than John, stood in the way between the passenger area and the flight deck.
"No seatbelts," he said. "We've got inertial dampeners." He looked at the two rows of children. "I'm Evan Lorne. I'm your pilot this evening. Does anyone have any questions about the Jumper before we set off?"
"When do I get to fly one?" The words shot out of John's mouth before he was aware he'd spoken.
Some of the other first-years sneered and nudged each other, but most looked interested in the answer.
Evan laughed. "Keen on flying?"
John nodded vigorously.
"Well, I'm in the fifth year. You might get a chance to learn in your fourth, if you've got good control of your abilities."
John remembered the blackened, smoking flower. He'd have to work hard, but he made a silent vow that he'd be flying before his fourth year.
"Okay, let's get going. You'll see Atlantis on the right as we follow the curve of the lake."
Lorne sat down and tapped at the controls. The scene through the viewscreen changed. They were moving, but John hadn't felt a thing.
At last, they were going to see his new home. What would it be like? A grand red brick ivy-covered building? A looming, grey castle? Maybe even a modern glass-and-concrete thing? He leant forward and squinted at the flat shimmer of the lake and the dark shoulder of tree-clad land to the right.
"Oh." Rodney's death grip on the bench relaxed. "Wow. Inertial dampeners."
"Look, there it is!" Somebody pointed and suddenly people were on their feet and John couldn't see anything.
"Wow! Look at that!"
The children began pushing forward into the flight area.
"Sit down." Ronon Dex's huge form filled the opening in the bulkhead. The children subsided instantly onto the bench seats.
Ronon glared beneath lowered brows, his dreadlocks falling forward over his frowning features, but as he turned away John caught the glitter of teeth beneath his moustache.
And then John could see. Through the viewscreen, lit up in diamond-studded beauty against the blackness of the night, was Atlantis; a great, shining place, far bigger than he'd imagined it would be - not just one building but a great complex of many, many structures, disappearing down into the darkness so that he couldn't see if they were separate or part of a giant interlinked form.
The little ship flew between towers and spires, around buildings that rose in great sweeping arcs or angular steps, past rows of myriad small windows and past great sheets of curving glass, and from them all, the bright lights shone out in welcome. They swooped beneath diagonal flying buttresses, and jinked around tall masts projecting from the tops of the towers and throughout all these manoeuvres Evan Lorne remained relaxed, his hands moving easily on the controls. John watched the pilot as much as the view. One day he would sit in that chair and take the Jumper swooping and spiralling and diving - one day soon.
They swept down to where the outlying areas of the huge complex met the shore of the lake and followed the jewel-like reflections far out over the water. Then Evan brought the ship around in a tight, banking turn and they hurtled back toward the City, over the line of rippling wavelets that marked the shore, and followed the rise of the land up and up toward the peak of a mountain, black against the starry sky.
The hill was studded with towers tall and short, squat, rounded structures and sharply-projecting pinnacles.
"Is some of the City underground?" Rodney asked.
"Yes," said Teyla, and a ripple of attention turned her way. "The City has been here for thousands of years and the land has changed around it. It stretches all the way into the hill and out beneath the surface of the lake."
"Can't wait for tomorrow, so we can see it properly," said John. An image appeared in his mind of the City as it might look in the daylight; white light reflected up from the lake, the mountain casting shadows between the towers, the interior structure visible in places through translucent surfaces. It had a six-pointed layout that was obvious in daylight, and though some of the structures nearest to the mountain peak were buried completely, John knew they were there; he knew and he also knew that these were not his own eager imaginings, but actual facts and truths revealing themselves into his mind. He was simultaneously terrified and thrilled.
He glanced at his companions, but nobody met his eye, all faces pulled toward the viewscreen. Perhaps this was normal for someone with the Ancient gene. He'd wait and see and not say anything for now.
They were rising steeply, but there was no sinking sensation in the pit of John's stomach. The ship skimmed close to the side of the tallest, central tower and spiralled around and around, light flickering on and off as they passed more windows shining with golden light. Then they reached the top.
"We're going down inside," said Rodney.
The Jumper's headlights illuminated a tube-like entrance, but then the pools of light disappeared as the tube broadened out into a huge, dark space. Vague shapes of berthed Jumpers slid upward in the viewscreen and then stopped.
Lorne tapped at his controls and the display went dark. A small buzzing in the very back of John's mind cut out. His mind itched to wake it again and his hands craved the touch of the flat, crystalline control panels.
The rear hatch descended.
"Everyone out." Evan ushered the children before him.
Silent Jumpers lined the circumference of the hangar and John looked up at the layer of ships on platforms suspended above. How high would these amazing machines fly? How fast would they go? How quickly would they turn? And were they armed?
"Leave the toy planes alone, Wonderboy." Rodney tugged at John's shirtsleeve. "Look, we're getting left behind."
The first-years had assembled in a nervously shuffling group at the entrance to the Jumper bay. A slim, dark-haired woman stood before them. She wore a uniform jacket just like the childrens' (Except me, thought John), but hers had large burgundy patches running down from both shoulders. Would she bawl him out for not having the right uniform? She glanced at him and Rodney as they joined the group and frowned slightly, but then smiled as she addressed them all.
"Welcome to Atlantis Academy, first-years. I am Professor Weir, Head of Athos House. You will shortly go down these stairs to the Gate Room, which is the heart of the Ancient City. There, you will be sorted into your houses, which, for your time here at Atlantis, will be like your family. Good deeds and hard work will bring rewards for your family in terms of house points. Any misdemeanors, and points will be deducted."
She continued, her audience rapt. "The Houses are named for the four founders of Atlantis: Athar, the Protector, who threw a mantle of fire over her people; Janus, the Alchemist, who wrought with the fabric of the universe; Oma Desala, the Nurturer, who reminds us that all things that live must die; and Merlin, the Guide of Humanity, who stayed on Earth longest of all the Ancients and truly died, without ascending to the upper plane."
The Professor had recited the names like a solemn, long-practiced invocation. The children were silent and unmoving.
"Please wait here while I see if the professors and students are ready for you."
As soon as the Professor's footsteps had receded, an excited buzz broke out.
"'Wrought with the fabric of the universe'? Did you hear that?" Rodney's eyes gleamed. "I'd better get put in Janus and not dismal Desala. 'All things that live must die'? I bet she was a riot at parties!"
John sniggered.
"I have always admired the emblem of Oma Desala," said Teyla. "The beauty of the eternal circle of life. But it is not true that your house must define your path in life."
"That makes no sense," snapped Rodney. "Are you saying the sorting is arbitrary?"
Teyla smiled. "Not at all. It is said the City watches and judges all new arrivals even before they are sorted."
Some of the children looked around nervously, but most of their attention was fixed on Teyla. She seemed a natural leader; one of those people that, if they speak, others listen.
"Judging us?" John wasn't sure he liked the sound of that. He, for one, had done a fair few things that he wasn't proud of; he'd wanted to start with a clean slate.
"Not with a judgement that brings punishment," reassured Teyla. "The City weighs and balances the quality of our minds and considers those already in residence and where we might best fit in."
"Sounds like mumbo-jumbo nonsense to me," said Rodney.
Teyla's eyes narrowed. "I find it is important to keep an open -"
"Hamish!" A small, stocky, round-faced boy burst from the crowd. "Has anyone seen Hamish? Ma wee turtle?" He dropped to the floor and began searching the ground, pushing between children's legs.
"A turtle? Did he say a turtle? What kind of an idiot brings a turtle to a boarding school?"
"We'd better help him look, Rodney," said John.
Teyla was already down on the floor, searching the shadows at the side of the bay. Some of the other children joined in the hunt and cries of 'Hamish!' echoed around the chamber.
A flicker of struggling movement caught John's attention. He lunged. The breath whooshed out of his lungs as his chest impacted the floor, his hand came down on empty air and then there was a further impact on the side of his ribs.
"Keep your distance, boy!"
John pushed himself up to kneeling. He looked up, but the face above him was in shadow.
"I said, keep your distance." The figure emphasized its words with a shove from a shining booted foot to the side of John's thigh.
John scrambled to his feet, his fists clenched. He was aware of Rodney at his side and then Teyla was there too.
He studied his assaulter. He was tall, so that even standing up, John still had to look up to confront him. And as he took in the well-fed smoothness, the derisive sneer and the slicked-back wing of dark hair above a face of Italian movie-star good looks, John realised that this was a type of character he recognised all too well. He himself had played the part of outsider in many different schools, moving on the fringes of various cliques, at best tolerated rather than accepted. But at every school there were the overt alpha-males, vying with each other for dominance, subverting their followers by looks or wealth or strength, or the dangerous combination of all three that this boy seemed to have. And the essential element that elevated these boys that thought they were men to the top of the pile? A rock-solid sense of their own self-worth, topped off with a large helping of violence, or the threat of violence.
The sneer intensified as a disdainful eye travelled up and down John's hand-me-down clothes. "You should be careful who you touch, boy. There are those among us who are particular about our attire and… the company we keep." He hissed a contemptuous laugh and, true to form, his surrounding group of followers joined in.
This, then, was the watershed. To slink away, cowed, to become one of those shadows on the periphery of school life? Or to stand up and be counted?
"The name's John. John Sheppard."
There was a collective gasp of astonishment from the crowd. Maybe there was something in Teyla's story after all? Even the sneering boy looked momentarily taken aback. Then his eyes narrowed in calculation.
"So, John Sheppard has come to Atlantis. But who are your companions?" His gaze transferred to Teyla. "Easy to see where you belong, girl. Homemade clothes and a hand-me-down jacket? One more from the Athos pig-sty.
Teyla stiffened but didn't respond.
"And as for you…" The spotlight turned on Rodney. "You haven't a cast of countenance I recognise from any of the best families - a latter day throw-back, no doubt."
Rodney spluttered, but John put a restraining hand on his arm. Let this kid have his say, and then we'll see, he thought.
"My name is Kolya. Acastus Kolya." His chin lifted slightly. Did he expect a round of applause? "You'll soon find out some Ancient families are much better than others, Sheppard. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand.
A murmur rippled around the echoing chamber and dispersed into the coolly shifting air. Behind Kolya were the smug faces of his followers, sure that another was about to join their number, eager to establish the pecking order. Perhaps John would be allowed to shine Kolya's boots? Further behind, the faces were solemn, the shoulders rounded in resignation. This Kolya kid must be well known. John would join the ranks of his followers and the power structure of this cohort would be set.
John looked down at the hand, offered for him to shake, to seal the deal.
Then slowly, he raised his eyes to look directly into Kolya's, while allowing an insolent smirk to lift one corner of his lips. "I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks."
The hand dropped and the dark eyes hardened. "Be careful, John Sheppard. You do not want to challenge me."
"No? Okay, then I won't. Not today anyway." He turned to Teyla, then Rodney. "Tomorrow? What d'you think? Will there be space in the timetable?" He grinned maddeningly at the increasingly furious Kolya, aware of the white-knuckled fists and the muscle twitching in the kid's jaw, but keeping his eyes fixed on his opponents', watching for the first tell-tale flicker that would precede a strike.
"Hamish! There you are!" The stocky boy thrust himself between them and bent down to scoop up a tiny, wriggling creature, folding his hands protectively around it. "Ma wee turtle!" he said, looking at John and then Kolya. "Oh! Sorry, am I in your way?"
Kolya's teeth ground together. John tensed to push the smaller boy aside and deflect the blow himself.
A flurry of claps rang through the Jumper bay. "First-years!" Professor Weir's clear voice called them to order. "Form a single line, please, and follow me!"
The crowd hastily began to organise itself. Kolya didn't move, but John refused to give ground. "Let me guess," he said, keeping up his taunting smirk. "'This isn't over?' Or 'You'd better watch your back?' Or how about the classic, 'You and me, behind the bike sheds?' Careful with that one, though. I might take it the wrong way." John allowed his face to settle into earnest concern, raising his eyebrows and pouting his lips just ever-so-slightly.
Kolya snarled through bared teeth and spun away to join the line.
"You're mad. Totally mad," said Rodney.
"Yeah, well, you gotta keep things lively," replied John. He sauntered over to join the line.
"How did you even survive foster care? How many times have you been punched in the face? Why did you have to wind him up?"
"Oh, come on, Rodney, the guy's got it in for me. He was gonna have a go no matter what I did. Might as well have some fun with it!"
"Can you fight, John?" Teyla tucked her arm in his, as if to reassure herself that he was still in one piece.
"Yeah, you know, I've learnt a few things."
"I will teach you more," she said firmly. "You are going to need it."
oOo
"Whoa! What the hell is that?"
Rodney followed the direction of his friend's pointing arm, not that it was difficult to guess what might have caught his attention. "It's a Stargate, Sheppard. Inactive, so that it doesn't supersede the one at Cheyenne Mountain."
"A what-now? So that it doesn't what?"
Rodney allowed his eyes to swoop in a dramatic roll. How was such ignorance possible? "You have a staggering amount to learn. I'll tell you later."
"I did not know the location of the working Gate," said Teyla. "Such things are kept great secrets until we come of age!"
"Ah well." Rodney flexed his fingers smugly. "Once Rodney McKay is on the scent, there's not a system on this planet that can keep me out. Or possibly any other planet - who knows?"
"Yeah, right!" John snorted in disbelief. Rodney really would have to tell him about the existence of aliens at some point. "Hey, what's the cool chair-thing?" he asked, reducing the beauty of the Ancients to the most crude terminology.
The Ancients' Control Chair stood on the platform before the Stargate, grey and silent. Rodney hadn't been able to find out much about it, but didn't want to admit that. The platform was surrounded by older students, who had left a narrow path through their ranks for the first-years. As he walked, Rodney looked up at the ceiling, where the hatch up to the Jumper bay was firmly closed, then back over his shoulder to the mezzanine level, where students crowded the rails on one side and on the other a row of taller forms loomed - the Atlantis Academy professors.
Professor Weir stood alone on the Gate platform, next to the chair. "When I call your name, you will step forward and sit down."
"So, what, we just have to sit in the chair?" asked John. "What does it do?"
"Andrews, Peter!"
The unfortunate boy stepped forward, and tripped as he mounted the platform. A ripple of laughter was silenced by Professor Weir's pointed glare.
Peter Andrews sat down on the chair as if it might explode.
"Sit back, relax, it won't hurt you," the Professor encouraged.
The boy leant back and the chair began to glow with a soft blue light as the head tipped further back and the feet rose.
"Like a dentist's chair," said Rodney.
John nudged him. "D'you think you get your teeth cleaned?"
"Ssh!" Teyla's glare was as effective as Professor Weir's. Rodney exchanged guilty looks with John.
Rodney's attention returned to the chair and he watched, amazed, as images began to form, hovering in the air - vague patterns and swirls, resolving into shapes which dispersed as soon as you looked straight at them. Then the misty forms coalesced into a circle of leaves, their colours from palest lime green dotted with white flowers, progressing around through dark green embellished with crimson fruit, through rusty reds and browns and then to the lignin skeletons of decay which completed the circle.
"Oma Desala!" announced Professor Weir, and a cheer went up from the students behind Rodney, who frantically waved a banner displaying the device of their house.
The first-year slid out of the chair and scuttled gratefully to be welcomed by his house.
The sorting progressed and Amelia Banks was called, displaying visions of stars and flickers of lightning which resolved themselves into a sparkling golden crucible on a black ground.
"Janus!" Professor Weir called. Amelia jogged, grinning, to join her house as Professor Weir called out, "Beckett, Carson."
The turtle-boy mounted the platform with extreme care, one hand in his pocket. His lips moved constantly. Was he talking to himself or his turtle?
He closed his eyes tightly as he sat down and his face contorted with concentration or terror or a mixture of both. Rodney was sure he'd behave with much more dignity.
"Sit back, Carson," Professor Weir said.
The boy slowly leant back, his fingers digging into the soft pads on the arms of the chair. It lit up around him a pulsing blue, one moment bright sapphire, the next sullen indigo.
"That doesn't look right," said Rodney.
A ghostly solar system appeared in the air, the planets whipping around their orbits almost comically fast. Then a brief surge of vibrations buzzed beneath Rodney's feet and through the stained glass window beyond the Gate a bright point of light appeared and grew rapidly bigger.
On the mezzanine level, a quick, hard voice spoke. "Shut it off!"
The light disappeared.
Professor Weir's eyes were on her colleagues. A grey-haired man grinned at her and gave her a casual salute. She nodded acknowledgment and, turning back to Carson, called out, "Athar!"
A white pegasus on a red shield hovered above the white-faced boy. He shot to his feet, the chair went dark and he ran with no pretence at nonchalance, off the platform to be engulfed by his cheering housemates.
John nudged him. "What d'you think happened there?"
Rodney shrugged. "He set something off. You would think there'd be safeguards against that kind of thing."
"Yeah." John's smirk wasn't genuine this time and Rodney could guess that their thoughts were the same. What if they messed up?
He felt a hand slip into his. "All will be well," said Teyla. She was holding John's hand too. He looked as embarrassed as Rodney felt.
The group of first-years slowly dwindled as more names were called and the children were sorted, uneventfully into their houses. Then the professor called out, "Emmagan, Teyla." Whooping cheers broke out, presumably from Jinto and Wex.
Teyla released Rodney's hand and walked calmly through the first-years, mounted the platform and lowered herself into the chair. That was how it should be done, Rodney thought - though the chair dwarfed Teyla's small form, she could have been a queen taking her throne.
He couldn't tell what the images were that floated above her head. Broad strokes of colour, heavy, yet serene, washed through the air. And for a moment the soft sound of a distant horn resonated in the back of his mind and his nose twitched to the sweet scent of a summer's evening. The pegasus on a red ground appeared above her head and Professor Weir called out, "Athar." Teyla sat up, swung her legs out of the chair and stood for a moment, smiling over the crowd, her eyes searching the faces. Her smile grew and she ran lightly to her new house where Jinto and Wex were waiting.
"Huh." Teyla had gone to her new house and her old friends. Rodney's hand still remembered the press of hers.
"Yeah..." John was chewing on his lower lip.
"Um. Do you think maybe…?"
"If we ask it, it'll put us in Athar?"
"Will it?" Rodney watched his new friend's face, anxiously. "Does it work that way?"
John's black brows lowered. "I'm gonna damn well make it work that way."
Oh, well, that's sure to go smoothly then, isn't it? Ha ha!
I hope you enjoyed that! The next chapter should be out in a few days. Or less. Maybe.
Sally