Vital Lies

Chapter 11

Less than 5 minutes after Aiden and Carson had come tumbling through the Gate, four men stood ready to step through it again to save their missing colleagues. Neither Sergeant Bates nor the others knew what awaited them on Yamin. Aiden didn't have a chance to tell them anything expect that Major Sheppard and Teyla were going to die if they didn't go back. It was all they needed to know, it had been all Dr. Grodin had needed to know to order a rescue mission. Now Sergeants Bates, Stackhouse and Markham were standing heavily harmed in the Gateroom waiting for the duty technician to dial the Gate. Next to the Sergeants was Dr. Winterfield, somewhat less heavily armed, carrying emergency medical gear. The Gate locked, the wornhole vortex swirled into existence.

"Good luck! Bring them back home." Grodin called to the men as they stepped up to the blue puddle.

"We will." Bates answered for his team as they walked into the event horizon.

On the other side, the men found their senses assaulted. Heat lashed at them, the first breath filled with burning smoke, the acrid air making their eyes water immediately. Vision was limited, but the heat, smoke and unmistakable crackling, indicated that they were not fare from the fire.

"We can't stay here long! The smoke will…" Dr. Winterfield coughed.

"No shit!" Markham shot back, getting out a life signs detector. "There areabout a dozen life signs over there on the left." He gestured into the smoky haze beyond the remainders of burning crates.

The fire had already consumed much of the wood and the goods contained in the crates. With its fuel gone, the fire no longer completely cut off the Gate from the rest of the hall. Once the men had the fire at their backs, the extent of the destruction became evident. What had not been destroyed by fire, had been taken out by the shockwave of an explosion. Shattered glass, splinters of woods and fragments of metal littered abandoned counters and benches. While the fire in the centre of the room appeared to be dying, it was only getting started on the east wall of the complex where the flames greedily consumed more shipping crates.

"Let's split up. Markham, take Dr. Winterfield and search that way." He pointed down the hall, "Stackhouse and I will go the other way. Stay in radio contact" Bates ordered, not wasting any more words, knowing they only had a very short time before the smoke forced their to return to Atlantis.

The men spilt up, both pairs taking a life sign detector, working as quickly as possible, focussed on the goal of finding their missing colleagues. The ground was littered in rubble, more than one body strewn among it. They'd all seen similar scenes before, even Dr. Winterfield, who'd had his share of field experience on Earth. But experience couldn't lessen the abject horror. Detachment, treating it as a mission to complete, was the only way not to turn and run from the scene. Markham was numb when he turned over yet another bloodied female body. When Teyla's pale and unmoving face seemed to jump out at him, he catapulted into action, yelling for the doctor.

Elizabeth always hated waiting, but she was used to it. Staying in the City while the teams were off-world had gotten her accustomed to being the one on the sidelines, the one to worry and hope for her people's safe return. And always living with the responsibility that it had been ultimately she who selected the planet to which a team had been sent. It had gotten easier with time, but Weir doubted she would ever get used to it. She probably shouldn't, because a leader who didn't care about his people wasn't fit to lead them.

All the anxiety of waiting for an overdue team paled in comparison to the tension she felt ripple through her as she sat in the conference room, waiting for Fersor to return with news of the outcome of Rodney's interrogation. It might not necessarily take sinister intentions on the part of Ymanhin for an unwelcome resolution. From what Elizabeth had been able to gather, while their approach to criminal investigation bore similarities to the standards she was used to, permitting or knowing of criminal activity seemed to be taken more seriously than on Earth.

The lock clicked and Fersor opened the door. Smiling, she walked in, followed by Wam Vter.

"I have good news for you, Dr. Weir. Dr. McKay has confirmed what you have told us. He has indeed acted alone. You are not guilty of any crime and will be free to go."

"What will happen to Dr. McKay?"

"He is an accomplice to treason and theft of classified documents. He will receive the appropriate punishment. You need not concern yourself with this, Dr. Weir. We all sometimes misplace our trust." Fersor explained.

"Who will decide Dr. McKay's punishment?" Elizabeth didn't really want to know the answer. The best Rodney could hope for was a court hearing, so that maybe she had a chance to speak on his behalf.

"No Ymanhin is born a criminal. We believe this to be true of all races. If someone is convicted of a crime, they have to make restitution to the community and to the victim and participate in social rehabilitation. However people who, like Dr. McKay have committed a crime against the people of Yamin cannot be tolerated in your community and are punished with exile."

"We'll take him with us. He'll never come back to Yamin again. We can make sure of that." Elizabeth said quickly, hoping to convince Fersor.

"I'm afraid we cannot accept such reassurance." For the first time Wam Vter spoke. "Dr. McKay is not the first off-worlder to commit a crime on Yamin. We cannot rely on alien understanding of justice. Everyone who comes to our world submits to our laws. We treat you as equals, Dr. Weir and we pride ourselves on our acceptance of alien cultures. We will treat you us equals in all matters. Dr. McKay is no exception. He will have to face his punishment like any of our people would in his place."

Elizabeth's hope dwindled. Wam Vter spoke without a hint of malice but with conviction and she believed him. She had seen how the Ymanhin were gracious and accepting hosts even if their extreme politeness rubbed her the wrong way at times.

But this was her game, she reminded herself, this was about negotiating a compromise. All she had to do was remain objective. It was not about what she believed. She wanted, needed to believe that Rodney was innocent, no matter what Fersor and Wam Vter were telling her. It wouldn't matter. They held the power over Rodney's fate and she had to work with that. She forced her thoughts into order, reducing the situation to a negotiation to find a compromise between the Ymanhin and Atlantis' best interests.

"I understand your concerns and I appreciate how well your people have received us. However exiling Dr. McKay and cutting him off from his people is not reconcilable with our understanding of his basic rights." Elizabeth improvised.

Wam Vter's eyes rested on her. "I see. Cutting the criminal off from the community is the defining point of sending them into exile, to prevent further harm to the community. By committing treason, Dr. McKay has betrayed the trust of our people. Exile is both practical and symbolic. For practical reasons, I agree, we could send Dr. McKay back to Atlantis. We have no reasons not to trust you when you say you will not allow him to return to Yamin. But we cannot allow him to go unpunished. However, we might come to an agreement that is acceptable for both of our people."

Elizabeth watched him carefully. She had him where she wanted him. He was ready to make a compromise on Rodney's punishment even though he had been holding all the cards. The only things at risk had been their diplomatic relations, if they were not already damaged beyond repair by the incident.

"I'm willing to push for a symbolic punishment for Dr. McKay, after which, he will be returned to your people. It is not my decision alone, but my suggestion carries a lot of weight since an off-worlder is concerned. Ultimately it will be up to the Judicial Council."

"Thank you. It is very much appreciated." Elizabeth accepted. This was probably the best she was going to get. Still she felt the oppressing weight of helplessness holding her down. There was only so much she could do for Rodney. In the end, he was still going to have to face up to anything the Ymanhin deemed appropriate punishment. Rodney was responsible for his own actions, but she refused to believe in his guilt. It made no sense, there was no logic, no motive for him to be involved with a splinter group among the Ymanhin. She wished she knew what had really happened in those missing eighteen hours.

There was water as far as he could see. The dark blue ocean stretched across the horizon, no land in sight, not even when he looked down. There was only the metal platform he was standing on; under it he could see the deep sea. He thought he should be frightened, but he was not, he knew that he was safe. He let go of the metal railing he'd been clutching and turned around, looking up. His vista dissolved into a blinding white landscape. Snow. Suddenly a second sun crept up from behind the horizon, sending its glareacross the frozen field. He raised his hand to shield himself from the bright light. The light still hurt and he had to close his eyes to keep out the pain.
It was the throbbing pain in his head that woke Kijen. For a moment, he was lost. The grey walls of his small room were foreign to him as his eyes searched for something familiar to latch on to, feeling certain that there were memories lurking beneath the surface, lying just outside his grasp.

His attempts to reach out and remember were stopped as the ache in his head suddenly intensified, capturing all his attention. He clutched his head, trying to keep out the searing pain. The edges of his vision started to grey and moments later Kijen fell into oblivion.

Deakon withdrew from the door, silent witness to the entire episode. It wasn't the first time Kijen had woken up screaming in pain. The alien had woken twice before during the night, never seeming to become fully aware of his surroundings. Deakon had been there both times, yet Kijen had taken no notice of him. Even with his limited medical resources he might have been able to do more for Kijen if he'd had more information about his race. They seemed similar enough to the Ymanhin, but Kijen was not recovering from his head injury nearly as well as Deakon would have hoped.

Loud banging against the metal door downstairs interrupted his thoughts, Deakon hurried to see who was so desperate for his services. To his surprise, Shukur's most powerful man himself, flanked by bodyguards, stood in his doorway.

Tyrone didn't wait to be asked in, he pushed Deakon out of the way and made his way into the main room. Deakon closed the door and followed, trying not to look too intimidated. Tyrone took a seat at the table, while the three bodyguards leaned on the near wall.

"Sit." Tyron gestured to the opposite chair.

"Where are the aliens I had sent to you?"

"One of them is dead. There was nothing I could do. He--" Deakon began, knowing that this wasn't what Tyrone wanted to hear.

"Tsk, tsk. You let him die even though you knew that I had an interest inhim?"

Deakon felt one of Tyrone's goons looming behind him and fidgeted nervously.

"There was nothing I could do. He was already dying."

A pair of arms nailed Deakon to his chair. He saw a flash of metal beforethe cold steel blade touched his neck.

"Do you have any idea how much money your incompetence has cost me?" Tyrone leaned closer.

"No." Deakon choked. The blade pressed deeper into his skin, drawing first blood.

"Where is the other one?"

"He...he is upstairs, but he is injured. Please, don't…"

"Silence! Get him!" Tyrone motioned to his remaining two guards.

TBC