Ian frowned.
"Just to make things clear," he said. "Just what exactly are you asking from me?"
"I want you to be a part of the Atlantis expedition. To go with us if it gets that far – and to do what you can to help us reach that goal."
"And what are you going to do there?"
She looked surprised by the question.
"Are you kidding? You know what the weapon in Antarctica can do for the Earth. Can you even imagine what else might be there?"
Ian leaned against one of the supply shelves, taking some weight off his injured leg – although he didn't let his discomfort show.
"How many weapons do you think we need here?"
Weir frowned.
"Against the Goa'uld? I'd say as many as we can get, wouldn't you?"
"The Ancient weapon in Antarctica can handle the Goa'uld…"
"And if it fails?"
"It won't."
She narrowed her eyes, slightly.
"Why don't you want to go back to Atlantis?"
He scowled at the change of topic.
"This isn't about me."
Weir snorted.
"I'm very good at what I do, Lieutenant. And that's reading others. For some reason, you're very reluctant to return to Atlantis."
"What you do, Doctor Weir, is manipulate people," Ian corrected. "I've read your stuff – I've even listened to a couple of seminars that you gave when you were an up and comer with the French embassy during the whole Karousa affair in Caen. You manipulate situations and encourage people to do what you want of them… You might be good at it, but I'm not a sheep to go where you want – and I'm sure as hell not going to help convince the military to send a whole bunch of people to the other side of the universe without any idea how to get them home, just because you have some wild hair up your ass about Atlantis."
Weir looked startled – but was far too skilled a diplomat to allow it to show for long.
"You got home."
"Yeah."
"In an Ancient ship."
"Yup."
"There must be more of them. If all else fails, we just bring the ships home the same way you did."
He snorted, and winced when he shifted and jarred the leg McKay had shot.
"You have to have the Ancient gene to pilot the Ancients ships. Weren't you paying attention?"
"And you said yourself that you and Jack O'Neill carry it," she countered. "If you carry it, then other people must, too. We just need to find them."
"And then what? Take them to a city that might be filled with weapons like the one in Antarctica – or worse – and hope they don't decide that they could use one of the things for their own country's defenses?"
"That won't happen. We'd screen them carefully, and bring in a sizeable military force to make sure-"
"It could happen. People are bastards."
"You really believe that?"
"Yup."
She raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"And yet you risked your life to save the Earth."
Ian snorted.
"I risked my life to save my dog."
With that he turned and left the closet.
OOOOOOOOOO
Jack looked up from the bed when Ian returned, looking a little annoyed and a bit troubled.
"Done already?" he asked, rolling out of the bed so Ian could sit down. His limp was fairly noticeable, now, telling O'Neill he probably needed to get off that leg for a while.
"It was a waste of time," Ian told him as he dropped into the bed gratefully. "The woman's nuts."
McKay made a scoffing noise.
"Now you're an expert on women?"
Ian scowled, wondering how hard it would be to convince Fraiser he needed a private room.
"What did she want?" Jack asked him – not really curious, but wondering what she'd said to annoy him.
"I'll tell you later."
"She wants to take a group of people – scientists – to Atlantis," McKay said.
Jack's eyebrows rose in surprise.
"What on Earth for?"
"To stoke her ego," Ian muttered, rubbing his injured leg.
"To find a better way to protect Earth," Rodney corrected. "She thinks – and I agree completely – that there are other weapons in Atlantis. We just have to find them and bring them back."
Jack looked over at Ian.
"Are there?"
Ian scowled. As the new director of the Homeworld Defense Organization, Jack would – of course – be interested in knowing the truth, but Ian hated the reminder of Jack's new position.
"Probably."
"Like the one in Antarctica?"
"I doubt it. Not one that can be carried off, anyways."
"What-"
"Jack, I don't want to talk about it right now, okay?"
"There has to be," McKay said, more than willing to step up where Ian wasn't. "You just need to send someone there to-"
"Send who, McKay?" Ian interrupted. "You?"
"Of course not me. I've already been there."
And had almost been killed trying to get home. He had absolutely no intention of going offworld again anytime soon.
Ian turned to Jack. Obviously McKay wasn't going to let it rest, so he might as well have his say.
"SG-4 never even arrived in Atlantis with us, and she wants to try it again. With two out of six in our group actually making their way through the gate, I'd say the odds are shit that her group would make it – at least not all of them."
"That might have been a fluke," McKay interjected.
"Would you risk it again?"
Which shut McKay up. Of course he wouldn't.
Jack rubbed his neck. He hated techno chatter and wished Sam was there. For that matter, he wished he wasn't. However, he had to ask the question.
"What do you think happened to the gate?" he asked Ian. "Why didn't SG-4 make it?"
"I think the Ancients hijacked the gate," Ian answered honestly.
"Why?"
"I don't have a clue, Jack. If they didn't want us there, they would have stopped all of us, not just SG-4."
"We needed to be there," McKay said. "SG-4 didn't."
Jack looked over at Ian, waiting for a disagreement. A sarcastic disagreement, knowing Ian. He didn't get it, though. Ian just shrugged.
"He could be right for all I know."