Brigadier General Cameron Mitchell sat at his desk in the commanding office of the SGC, his hands – more accustomed to a trigger than a pen – now inscribing signature after signature on what he sure thought was an unreasonably hefty stack of paperwork.
Sheppard leaned against the open doorway and rapped his knuckles against the wall.
General Mitchell looked up from the paperwork on his desk, a smile growing as he exclaimed, "Hey, hey, hey, if it isn't Colonel John Sheppard. Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
"Retired Colonel," he corrected.
"Not for long, I hope." Mitchell stood and shook his hand vigorously. "You'll disappoint quite a lot of people if you don't come back. People are already betting on whether you'll 'pull an O'Neill,'" he said with air quotes. When Sheppard merely stood in front of the desk, unamused, Mitchell gestured to the chair. "Take a seat. It's been too long."
His enthusiasm and animated Southern accent were refreshing after years of solitude and apathy, but still Sheppard hesitated. "We'll see." He sat in the leather chair across from the desk. "No one thought it was important to mention that we'd be working with Todd again."
"Naw." Mitchell shook his head. "Don't tell me that's going to change your mind."
Sheppard pursed his lips. "We'll see."
Mitchell raised an eyebrow, a slight smile creeping up. "You're not a very good liar, John. I know you and the IOA got crossways but I'll bet you're jumping up and down like a little kid inside." When Sheppard remained skeptically silent, Mitchell pulled a thick file folder. "Everything you missed from the briefing," he said, dropping the bursting folder in front of Sheppard. "Read it."
Sheppard flipped open the cover curiously, scanned the page, and looked up suddenly. "I don't think I'll be able to go."
"Really." Mitchell leaned back in his chair, expression expectant.
"See, I have this dog. Really she's just a stray, but I can't get her to go away," Sheppard offered. "I can't leave her alone all that time. She'll starve."
Mitchell grinned. "Don't worry, I'll make sure someone takes good care of your dog." He tossed a small round patch, adorned with the Atlantis expedition logo and a large Roman numeral II, on top of the file folder. "Welcome back, Sheppard."
…
"Good luck, everybody. And Godspeed."
After a last salute to General Mitchell and Chief Harriman, Colonel Sheppard led each member of his expedition team through the stargate, each carrying their assigned luggage and equipment.
One by one they emerged from the event horizon. The lights of the Atlantis gate room flicked on as it detected each new presence, as if the city had been waiting patiently for them to return.
"Wow," Colonel Reynolds said, staring in admiration at the high ceilings, intricate textures, and grand, unfamiliar design. "I don't know what I expected, but… wow."
"Come on," Ronon said eagerly, dropping his bags and jogging to a side door which opened automatically. "You need to see this."
Reynolds, along with a few others excited to explore, followed Ronon to a balcony overlooking the city's lover levels and the glimmering sea below. "There's something you don't see every day," Reynolds breathed, his face lit up by a smile almost childish in its awe. Someone's quiet sigh could be heard over the lapping waves.
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Ronon said to no one in particular.
"Who?" McKay asked, already tinkering with control crystals in the wall.
Jennifer chided him with a gentle smack on the arm. "Rodney, the city. Look."
"Oh," he breathed involuntarily as he turned to see the gleaming city landscape. "That is beautiful. I'd forgotten…"
She put a hand on his shoulder as they leaned against the balcony, silent for a moment. "Come on, Rodney. Let's go help set up," she said, almost hesitant to break the precious stillness.
Inside, Sheppard was barking orders to the crowd, a flurry of excitement. "Take your personal items and head to the south wing quarters. Those of you who know where to go, lead the way. Quarter assignments will be made shortly."
"Who wants to bunk with me?" Vala called with a teasing smile, eying a well-built Marine standing nearby. She earned herself a glare from Daniel, who was already poring over his notes on Ancient research. He hissed, "I thought we talked about behaving yourself."
…
The Atlantis teams' first mission was to M75-771. The Agorans were a hardy people, capable of manufacturing sturdy buildings and simple tools for farming, but had achieved little in the manner of technology. The people were brown from the sun and patient from years of hard labor; they wore simple garments of leather and coarse cloth. The Lantean exploration team was greeted by a woman with white-streaked hair and weathered hands. She identified herself as Lena, the leader of the village adjacent to the stargate. This small colony was the only known habitation on the planet.
New conflict as well as opportunity arose when the team learned that the Agorans had recently been visited by a Prior of the Ori.
Colonel Reynolds' strategic mind and keen eye for shooting made him the quintessential military leader, but he willingly handed the reins over on issues of culture. Dr. Jackson stood at the head of the group standing near the stargate, speaking to the village leader: "You have to understand, despite what the Priors may claim, the Ori aren't gods. In fact, they aren't even around any more. They've died just like any normal human would. Even the ascended aren't invulnerable."
Lena shook her head. "But they can do many wondrous things," she insisted. "How else could they have been granted such abilities other than by the gods?"
"What kind of things did they show you?" Daniel asked.
"They made fire right into the palm of her hand," she said, holding her own hand out, "and sent it down to burn the grass. They could cure the sick and make the crippled walk again. I have told you of my son, who has made great progress in medicine for treating illnesses in our livestock, but even he cannot match their powers. Some say the Prior's staffs are magical."
"You can create fire, can't you? How else would you cook your food?"
"We can, but it takes much work, and we cannot control it as they do."
"Even so, all of these things can be accomplished through the use of technology – nothing more than science, like the medicine your son experiments with. You're a progressing society – soon you'll be able to do everything the Priors are doing. Here." He turned to Colonel Reynolds, who stood behind him with Ronon and Vala. "Lighter." Reynolds tossed him a small silver device, which Daniel opened, revealing a small flickering flame for Lena to see. "You see, we can create fire too."
"And the sick and wounded?"
Daniel frowned. "Vala, do you have the Goa'uld healing device?"
"Right here." She dug it out of her backpack and moved to stand beside him.
"Watch this, Lena," he said, pulling out a knife. He heard her gasp as he ran it down the palm of his hand, wincing as a thin line of blood bubbled up. "Vala," he gestured.
Fitting the orange device onto her hand, Vala ran it over Daniel's palm a few times, her eyes closed in concentration. Lena gasped again.
Daniel held out his hand for her to touch: its surface was perfectly smooth, not even a scar remaining. "You see? Admittedly, this technology is still beyond us, but the point is that it's possible. We – and the people who made this device – are no more gods than the Priors."
Lena pursed her lips tightly, eyes flashing as if she wanted to believe them but was held back. Her fingers traced Daniel's flawless palm one last time. "Very well," she said. "Perhaps you are right. But my people will not back down so easily."
…
"How'd it go?" Sheppard called down from the control room balcony as his team returned.
Reynolds shrugged. "The village leader seemed to believe us, but she said she needs some time to talk to her people. I gave her a GDO in case there's any trouble."
"Good. Debrief in ten. Oh," he added irritably. "And Woolsey's here."
…
The conference room was full; the long mahogany table had been replaced by the circular Lantean counter that originally filled the room. It had been one of Sheppard's first items of paperwork as commanding officer of Atlantis.
"All in all, I'd say the mission was a success," said Colonel Reynolds. "At least we've got ourselves in their heads as allies. And the Ori don't seem to have as strong a grip on the Agorans as they've had on other civilizations in the past."
Sheppard stacked up his papers. "Excellent work. Next mission to PX7-889."
"My team, sir?" Stackhouse spoke up, his promotion to Staff Sergeant borne proudly with young, fresh face and boyish enthusiasm.
"Negative. I need McKay here to work on the power supply. Major Castleman, you and your team check it out. Stackhouse, I'll do some shuffling and replace McKay for the time being. You'll get the next mission."
"Yes, sir."
"Are you sure this is the best plan of action?" Mr. Woolsey asked, glancing restlessly around the room. Despite the traditional Atlantis uniforms that had been dispersed to all members of the expedition, he was still dressed in a stiff black suit. "Traipsing around the galaxy, visiting planets until you happen to run into the Ori or they find out where we are? It doesn't sound like the most logical strategy."
"Well how else would we do it?" McKay snapped.
"We have no idea how strong a hold they have on the people of this galaxy," Sheppard added, "and we need to reestablish contact with our allies. We have no way of doing that without taking trips off world." Before Woolsey could object, he waved a hand. "We're taking every precaution. MALPs are doing extensive scans and we've been bringing at least two military personnel on every mission."
"Or me," Ronon grinned, caressing his customary weapon on the table.
"Very well," Woolsey muttered, tight-lipped.
"Colonel Sheppard," Daniel butted in before Sheppard could end the meeting. "I wanted to ask if you have any science teams free in the meantime. Back at the SGC I was doing research on ascension and I came across documents suggesting that the Ancients may have tried to ascend before they were physiologically ready and… Well, I'll spare you the geekspeak, but I'd like to conduct a search of the city. There might be a lab or a computer console somewhere that has more information."
Sheppard nodded. "I'll assemble a group. Castleman, let me know as soon as your team is ready," he ordered, pushing his chair out to stand up. "Dismissed."
Mr. Woolsey followed him out, cornering him in the hall as they exited the conference room. "Colonel Sheppard, could I have a word?"
"Sure," he shrugged, though his expression was tight.
"I wanted to let you know that you have the IOA's full support."
Sheppard raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Thank you, Mr. Woolsey, but I think we both know I don't need the IOA's support to continue with my work."
When Sheppard turned to continue walking, Woolsey said quickly, "I should warn you, however. The IOA is requiring that I submit regular reports on activities here. If I report something they aren't happy with, there will be no choice but for the association to take a more prominent place in this expedition."
"Well, then, don't report anything they aren't happy with," Sheppard snapped as he walked off.
…
"Good news or bad news?" said Daniel as he entered Sheppard's office.
"You pick," said Sheppard.
"Well, the Agorans on M75-771 were visited by a Prior again, that being the bad news. But," Daniel said with a grin, "we know when they'll be back."
"How long?"
"Three days."
Sheppard nodded resolutely. "Good. Tell Reynolds, Stackhouse, and Lorne to ready the teams; you'll need disguises, anti-Prior devices –"
"You want to try and capture it?"
A mischievous smile crept onto his face. "I've even been working on a name for when we interrogate him."
Confused, Daniel frowned, opening his mouth to say something.
"Inside joke," Sheppard shrugged, recalling the litany of wraith prisoners dubbed Kevin, Bob, and, of course, Todd. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have paperwork to do."
…
"All right!" Sheppard cried as he weaved his way through the crowd in the Atlantis gate room. Many of his men were cloaked and hooded, dressed to blend in with the natives of Agora, and others wore the traditional SGC jumpsuits in camouflage colors. "Make this a clean mission, everybody! We don't need to make a scene. Get in there, grab the Prior, and get out. Understood?"
A chorus answered him, "Yes, sir!"
"Excellent. Chuck, dial the gate."
"Dialing," he announced.
Rodney gingerly placed his pistol in its holster. "Colonel, are you sure you… you don't want to come?"
"I didn't say I didn't want to come," Sheppard shook his head. "Come on, you guys'll do fine."
He nodded reluctantly.
"And don't worry, I'll make sure Dr. Lee keeps everything under control. I need to know that you've got the anti-Prior devices handled on this mission. I'm sure the power system will be fine for a couple of hours."
"Famous last words," Rodney rolled his eyes.
Chuck announced, "Wormhole engaged."
"Good luck," said Sheppard as teams began to file through the gate. "And Godspeed."
…
Rodney, Major Lorne, and the two other soldiers on the team stood towards the back of the crowd, disguised by brown robes. Lorne reached up to tap his radio. "I have a visual on the Prior. Make contact when ready."
As the robed Prior strode through the crowd of Agorans in the marketplace, his eyes staring blankly forward, a chorus of voices sounded in his ear. "Team two ready."
"Team three ready."
"Acknowledged," said Lorne. As the Prior drew closer, he glanced over at Rodney and nodded curtly.
Rodney reached one hand under his cloak and turned on the anti-Prior device. The faint hum felt excruciatingly loud, but neither the crowd nor the Prior seemed to notice.
"Rodney," Lorne whispered. "Nothing's happening."
"Yes, I can see that."
"Isn't he supposed to notice when his fancy powers don't work any more?"
"I don't know what the problem is! Maybe he just doesn't know yet," Rodney hissed.
"Right. Just like I didn't notice when I got you stuck on my team again."
"Oh, thanks, Major. You always make me feel so warm and fuzzy inside," he rolled his eyes. "Look, we're disguised, everyone else is camouflaged, there's no way they'll notice us. Even if there's a problem, we've got all the time in the world. Right?" He paused, eyes darting frantically between Lorne and the Prior. "Right?" he squeaked.
The Prior cocked his head to one side, colorless lips pursed. "There are intruders among you," he announced to the crowd in a monotone voice. "Show yourselves." With a wave of his hand, a stand of brush was flattened, revealing Daniel, Vala, Ronon, and Colonel Reynolds. Ronon raised his gun to shoot, but Daniel stopped him with a hand on his chest. Eyes wide, they raised their hands slowly.
"Oh, man," Rodney breathed.
…
Sheppard cursed to himself as the lights shut off, leaving his office and the entire gate room pitch black.
"Um, Colonel Sheppard?" said a tentative voice through the radio. "We have a problem."
