FAILURE TO COMMUNICATE
CHAPTER NINETEEN: GETTING THROUGH
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"Look," Connam smiled, "young man, I'm afraid I can't just turn this around and head home. This isn't my home. Perhaps if you told me what the matter is?" He lifted his eyebrows as he regarded the men holding him hostage--they looked as if they wanted to skin him alive. "This is…rather daunting, you know."
"Connam!" someone called suddenly from off to the side. It sounded strangely cheerful. "Hey, let him through! Connam!"
The trader turned his head, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw one of the usual guards who maintained a watch on the Gate jogging towards him. Mick waved, and Connam waved back.
The guard who had detained him stepped back, and Connam clicked his tongue at Dodge, getting her to move forward. In moments, he wasn't far from the DHD, jumping off the wagon to greet his friend.
Mick grasped his hand firmly, then went to pet Dodge's neck. The massive dram ignored him completely, her head going down to eat at the grass at her feet.
"How's it going, Dodge," the guard asked, not bother in the least. "Connam treating you well, is he?"
"Hell, you should see what she did to the back of my wagon," the trader replied. "That should answer your question."
Mick laughed, looking towards the wagon, then back at Connam. "You're heading off world, I take it?"
"That's the plan, Mick," the trader replied. "Done with my business here, and late for an appointment elsewhere. Hoping I could get through without too much fuss."
"Oh, not to worry," the guard said. He gestured at a couple of men to join him, one of whom Connam also knew, a short man named Les.
"Boys want to give my old friend's wagon here a good shake down? Then we can get him on his way?"
The two guards nodded and moved over to start searching the wagon. Connam sighed.
"Be careful," he called, wincing a little as they moved stuff around. "I've valuable merchandise in there!"
"So, Connam," Mick leaned on Dodge as two other guardsmen gingerly made their way through the trader's wagon, "you see any escapees on the way here?" The man laughed as if he'd made a joke, and Connam pretended a sudden comprehension.
"Ah!" he said, "Is that what all this is for!"
"Yup," the guard scratched at a shoulder under his uniform, "We got word there are at least six dangerous off-worlders running around the valley. Should be interesting to see how long they can dodge two full regiments of the King's men. That's nearly two hundred men…and this valley isn't that big." He laughed again.
"Wow, just for six people? Must be pretty special." Connam leaned his head to the side, watching as one of the guards jumped off and looked at the underside of the wagon.
"I think they pissed off the Commander," Mick explained with a wink, leaning with Connam to take in the same view when the guard inspecting the underneath gave a small whistle.
"Find anything, Les?"
"No people," Les replied, turning to look at them where he was half kneeling in the dirt. "But this is a very unusual wagon, Connam," he noted, a wry smile on his face.
"Yes, it is," the trader said proudly. "Should see her when I get her fixed properly. And I am going to get her fixed."
Mick grinned, slapping his friend on the shoulder. "I'm sure you will. So," he indicated the gate behind him with a nod of his head, "When do you think you'll be back this way again?"
Connam shrugged, "Oh, not long. Von Luger needs some parts for that piece of crap harvester of his, and the Arlettas want me to bring them some Calistian silk to make their daughter a wedding dress."
"Little Cassie?" the guard looked surprise, "She's getting married?"
The trader nodded, "Apparently. And she's not so little anymore, Mick."
The guard laughed, gripping his friend's shoulder. "No, I suppose she ain't."
"We're all set here," Les said, brushing some dirt off his knees and walking over. "Go ahead on out, Connam."
The trader grinned and gave them a mock salute, then headed to the DHD. For a second, he mentally pictured the address Doctor McKay had given him, then started inputting it into the device. Within moments, the wormhole was established and he walked back to gather Dodge's reins, glancing behind her to make sure she was still securely tied to the wagon. With a final nod to the guards watching him, he said goodbye to Mick and then tugged Dodge along up the ramp to the Gate. Mick and Les waved as Connam stepped through.
A moment's disorientation, and Connam found himself stepping into a lovely green meadow, surrounded on all sides by a healthy set of fir trees. Not far, he could see snow capped mountains lit by the sun. The air was nippier here, but still pleasant.
No one greeted him, and his eyes narrowed slightly as he realized he could see no structures of any kind.
"Hello!" he called, pulling Dodge further forward so that he was in the middle of the meadow. Behind him, the wormhole disengaged. "Hello! Anyone home? I've a message for you!"
"Don't move!" a man's voice challenged. "Hands in the air!"
Connam turned, raising up his arms as ordered, and gave his most charming smile to the four very well armed soldiers stalking him from behind. They were indeed dressed like the Colonel and Doctor McKay, which gave the trader some relief.
"Hi!" he greeted, purposefully not looking at the weapons, then letting his smile fall to take on a more serious air. "My name is Eric Connam. I've an urgent message from Doctor McKay for a Colonel Caldwell." He pointed to his chest, and he focused on the closest soldier to him. "Listen, Doctor McKay, Colonel Sheppard and the others are in great danger. There isn't much time." He lowered his hands a little. "May I give you the message? It's in my breast pocket."
The soldier nodded, and, lowering his weapon slightly, stepped forward. Connam quickly pulled the two pieces of paper out and handed the one he couldn't read to the soldier.
The other three men didn't lower the weapons on the trader, though they watched as the soldier quickly scanned the note.
"I also am supposed to ask for a Doctor Simpson," Connam said to him. "She's to help me fix my wagon? I have that on this note, here." He waved the other one still in his hand.
The soldier glanced up at him, then clicked the radio on his jacket. "Doctor Simpson, this is Sergeant Stackhouse. Please report to the Gate area and get the gentleman that's here anything he wants to fix his wagon. Sir," the soldier nodded to Connam, "Thank you. Wilmington," Stackhouse spun around, looking at a tall, dark haired solder near the DHD, "Dial home."
The soldier was already on it, while Stackhouse stepped into Connam's line of sight to block his view of the DHD and the address Wilmington was dialing. The trader gave a weak smile, then turned around when he heard noises behind him.
A couple of people, a man and a shorter blond woman emerged from a path between the trees. The woman, apparently, was Doctor Simpson. She looked slightly annoyed as she approached, but also curious.
Behind him, the wormhole engaged, and Connam listened as Stackhouse spoke rapidly into his radio.
"Colonel Caldwell, this is Sergeant Stackhouse at the Alpha Site. Please respond."
And, in reply, a man's gruff voice replied clearly over the link. "Go ahead, Sergeant."
Stackhouse grimaced as he spoke, not hiding his worry. "I have a man here who has an urgent message from Doctor McKay, sir. It sounds like they're in trouble."
"In trouble? What kind of trouble?"
"I'm not sure, sir. But I have a note here which I think you should read."
"Are you sure it's from Doctor McKay, Sergeant?"
"Yes, sir," Stackhouse stated, then allowed himself a small smile. "It's in French."
There was a pause, then a brief chuckle. "All right, Sergeant. Come on through."
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The Canadian tech at the console in the Gateroom translated the message quickly, telling Caldwell everything he needed to know. The colonel tapped his radio.
"Caldwell to the Daedalus," he called, "Sergeant Weathers, you there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Weathers, how long will it take us to get to…." He looked at the tech.
"P3V-335," the tech supplied.
"P3V-335," Caldwell said over the radio.
There was a brief pause, then, "An hour and ten minutes, sir."
"Then I want the Daedelus prepped and ready to go fifteen minutes ago."
"Yes, sir."
"Sergeant," Caldwell turned to look at Stackhouse, "Well done. Report to the jumper bay; you're on the rescue detail." He reached up and tapped his radio again, "Major Lorne, Doctor Beckett."
"Yes, sir?" Lorne's voice replied over the radio.
"Beckett here," Carson's voice chimed in.
"Major, you and your team report to the Jumper Bay immediately; Sergeant Stackhouse will meet you there and fill you in. I need a jumper through the Gate and over to P3V-335 now to run recon on a rescue detail. SGA-1, Doctor Weir and Doctor Travis are in trouble."
"Hell," Beckett said, "What kind of trouble? Is anyone hurt?"
"We received a short message from Doctor McKay stating that Ronon Dex is hurt, and that the others may be too. In addition, there was blood on the paper, so I would assume Doctor McKay is also hurt. I want you to prep two full medical teams, one for the jumper, one for the Daedalus. Can they be ready to go in fifteen minutes?"
"Aye. I'll meet Major Lorne in the Jumper Bay in ten. Jackson and Biro will head up the team on the Daedalus; they'll be there in fifteen."
"Good, Major, you got that?"
"Yes, sir," Lorne affirmed.
"Good. I'll contact you as soon as I get to the Daedalus, but you are good to go asap." Caldwell tapped the radio one more time, watching as Stackhouse jogged to the stairs and started taking them two at a time to get up to the Jumper Bay. "Major Larabee."
A different voice answered this time, one of a rougher quality, "Yes, sir?"
"Major Lorne and I are needed on a rescue mission on P3V-335. You're in charge until we return. Report to the Gateroom."
"Be there in five minutes, sir."
Caldwell nodded and tapped his radio one more time, "Daedalus?"
"Yes, sir," Sergeant Weathers voice replied.
"I'm on my way."
"Yes, sir."
Caldwell gave the lieutenant watching over the Gateroom a salute, then turned and headed out the door.
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TBC...