Chapter 5

Posse

"So long story short, we're finally going back?" Ronon asked. His tone was nonchalant, but Sheppard could see the gleam in his eye. He'd waited years to get back to what he did best, namely killing Wraith. The fight against the Hybrids here in the Milky Way had never really satisfied him. After all, it wasn't the Hybrids who had leveled his homeworld or stuck a tracker in his back and hunted him for sport. Sheppard nodded, though he didn't smile. His reasons for wanting to go back were a bit more sober than revenge, though probably no less personal.

"Yep, Woolsey finally convinced them." he said, then paused before correcting himself, "Well actually he sort of scared them into it. I think a lot of them have been worried about what might be going on in Pegasus for a while now. This Decepticon signal was just the straw that broke the camel's back."

"So when do we leave?" Ronon asked, leaning back in his chair. John glanced over at Teyla, who was sitting next to the big Satedan with a preoccupied expression. He wasn't sure who she was thinking of, but the possibilities were slim.

"Well don't get all excited just yet, big guy. It probably won't be today. At best, we're looking at a three-day prep period. They're stocking the Odyssey for the trip right now. I've still got to choose who to bring. You're both on the short list, and so is Rodney."

"Anyone else?" Ronon asked, shifting from his laid back position to leaning forward. Clearly the padded lounge chair he was in wasn't his favorite. He kept shifting every few minutes, which only added to the aura of suppressed excitement coming off him.

"Well they were amazingly vague about the restrictions for once." Sheppard chuckled, leaning back a little himself, "Plus it's sort of a complicated situation we're walking into. One thing's for certain: we're going to have to bring a couple of Autobots along for the ride, Depending on what we find, we'll probably need their expertise."

"Wait, back up." Ronon said, "Are we going to hunt Decepticons or Wraith?"

"Well officially it's Decepticons, but the mission is going to require we get back in touch with Pegasus as a whole." he answered, before turning to Teyla, "I was hoping you could help out there." Teyla frowned, her expression one of internal conflict and possibly self-loathing.

"I'm afraid I might not be much help, John. My people...we haven't really spoken in years. Since the Alpha Site became more self-sufficient and stopped much of its trading with offworld partners, I haven't kept in touch with New Athos nearly as much as I intended. The last time I spoke with Halling was months ago, and that was by video feed. He seemed unusually withdrawn. I worry that they might feel I am no long one of them, much less their leader."

John grimaced, empathizing with her pain. His guilt over leaving Pegasus to fend for itself was nothing compared to the anguish Teyla dealt with every day over her virtual abandonment of her people. Though all signs seemed to suggest they had gotten along relatively well without her presence according what she had shared from her very infrequent conversations with Halling, her go-between, she had always made it clear that she intended to return to them one day, because more than anything, they were as much part of her family as John had become.

"Well, that's part of the biggest issue we're probably going to face." he admitted, "We left seven years ago, after saying we'd stand and fight beside the people there. Hell, we promised the Confederation to their faces we'd be there when they needed us. But over the course of those seven years, we've withdrawn farther and farther, until we're where we stand now. The Alpha Site can dial Earth for brief periods to make check-ins and relay whatever information they have to offer. Meanwhile the Daedalus makes two round-trips a year to help them stock up on whatever they can't trade for or grow themselves. Apart from that, we're basically isolationists. We're at the absolute minimum of outside contact, which means we've got little to no information about the state of Pegasus as a whole. For all we know, the Wraith could be a vanishing issue."

"Or they could be on the verge of launching for Earth." Teyla warned. Sheppard nodded in agreement.

"The truth is we know nothing. We're pretty much starting from scratch. But we can rely on New Athos. They know us, and we know them. Even if they won't accept you back as leader, they'll still answer your questions." Teyla looked as if she might debate that assertion, but kept her mouth shut. She shrugged.

"I will certainly do what I can. The fact that we still trade with some worlds does give us a foothold to start from, certainly. But I worry about how much ill-feeling we might have generated in the minds of those we abandoned towards ourselves."

"Well, we've got to start somewhere."

"I'm still confused." Ronon said, "What exactly are we going back to do? What's the plan?" Sheppard sighed, because the truth was he hadn't entirely worked out the whole plan himself. Still, he did his best to summarize.

"As it stands, we know this signal came from some Decepticons, probably carrying some serious technology. We know it came from Pegasus. What we don't know is where exactly in Pegasus it came from. The first half of the mission is to gate to the Alpha Site with some specialists and equipment while the Odyssey takes the long way around. They'll work on tracking down the signal using remote methods. Triangulation, subspace mapping, that sort of thing. We, on the other hand, will see if we can't locate it the old-fashioned way. We'll go around asking questions, see if we can't pick up on some signs that there are Decepticons hiding out there."

"I would imagine it would not be hard to locate them in such a manner if they were. News of such beings would travel fast." Teyla pointed out.

"Well, according to Optimus, they're pretty good at hiding out not matter how developed a society is. In fact, the less advanced they are, the easier it generally is for them. There's less ways for them to be detected and more room to hide." Teyla slowly nodded as she considered his words. Sheppard was right. Most civilizations in Pegasus were either concentrated around their planet's Stargate or spread in a loose network of settlements that spiderwebbed out from it. That left plenty of empty room to hide in, especially since none of them had Energon detectors.

"So how are we going to find them then? Between the team we place at the Alpha Site and our own efforts, that still leaves a large amount of ground to cover. Even if there was a sighting, it might not be taken seriously enough to even become a rumor." Teyla said.

"Which is why we're going to try everything." John replied, "Optimus is already picking out three of his people to come along, specialists who can help us track down these 'Cons. Plus he's coming himself." He paused, before continuing in a grudging tone, "And we're bringing Todd." This provoked an immediate reaction from both of his friends. Teyla's eyes widened in disbelief while Ronon's narrowed as he released a growl of displeasure.

"Sheppard, no." he said. John shook his head.

"We need him." he answered.

"No, we don't."

"Alright then, what's your plan for getting information out of the Wraith?" he retorted. Ronon growled, his lips pursed in displeasure. He hated the Wraith to a principle, and whenever Todd was mentioned, it made him very unhappy. This was because Todd was a Wraith, one whose questionable allegiance and undeniable assistance had helped save Atlantis, not to mention Sheppard's life, more than once. This was a double offense in Ronon's book, first for being a Wraith, and second for not behaving like Wraith was supposed to, i.e. singlemindedly sucking the life out of every human they could get their greasy hands on, literally.

"Look, we know from what he told us before we put him in stasis that his alliance of Hives was still strong when he left, and they still thought that Teyla was their queen in absentia. That gives us a big window. The Wraith are the ones with the most space-faring ships in Pegasus. If there is a Decepticon fleet out there, then they are the ones most likely to have seen it."

"A fleet?" Ronon asked, "Hold on, you didn't say anything about a fleet." Sheppard sighed.

"It's just a theory right now, but given the amount of power behind the signal, one of our working theories is that there might be a fleet of fully-functional Decepticon warships out there. And if there are, that's an issue we need to resolve before Megatron claims them." he said. His friends looked at each other, obviously both doing the mental deduction that had led John to his horrifying realization during his talk with Woolsey. He could almost see it when they reached the exact conclusion he had, the shroud of dread and worry lowering over their expressions like a veil.

"Still, John. Todd only commands one alliance. It is entirely possible they might not have seen these ships, if they exist, but that another might have."

"I'm banking on the assumption that if any alliance saw them, they'd let the others know. Even if they're fighting over food, they still have the sense to react to common threats. Todd said they put an APB out for the Vanir after we kicked their little grey asses, so I don't see why it'd be different here." Teyla maintained her skeptical look, while Ronon simply continued to glower, though there was less of an edge to it.

"Alright, John." Teyla finally said, shaking her head, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying. Sheppard looked over hopefully at Ronon.

"I don't need to remind you about how I feel about this, do I?" the Satedan asked gruffly, "He's too dangerous to be trusted."

"That's true of all Wraith. And I don't trust him." Sheppard replied defensively.

"Then why is he still alive?" Ronon asked pointedly, "The last time we had him in our hands, we just let him go, even though he brought a Super-Hive right to your home planet. And when we saw him again, it was with another Hive, also hovering above Earth, getting ready to cull the planet."

"Yeah, but he helped us stop them both times." Sheppard replied, feeling a little slimy for defending what essentially amounted to a super-predator that fed on humans, "Look, I've already talked with Beckett about unfreezing him. The decision's made."

Ronon was having none of it.

"You may think you can use him, Sheppard. But every time we've thought we were using him, it turned out he was using us. How many more times will it take before we stop playing his games?" John had no answer, because Ronon was right. Todd was the Wraith poster child for enlightened self-interest, with 'self-interest' being the key words in that phrase. Every time he had 'teamed up' with Atlantis, it had turned out he was working an alternate agenda, which on many occasions resulted in another addition to John's already long list of near-death experiences. No matter how cheery and friendly he appeared, no matter what help he offered, he was only ever in it for himself. But in spite of this realization, John found himself recalling something he'd heard from Dr. Weir, long, long ago. 'Ambition is like a fire. If you don't use it, it can still be used against you, and if you don't control it, you end up getting burned.'

Todd was self-interested, avaricious and ambitious to boot. His machinations had always been directed towards helping himself. But at the same time, those machinations had often improved things, for the most part, even for Atlantis, his supposed enemy. His efforts to seize control of an alliance of Hives had not only reduced the number of cullings in his section of Pegasus, but also been instrumental in stopping the Asurans, an Ancient-manufactured civilization of intelligent nanomechanical weapons, from wiping all life from the galaxy. In fact, his agreement to allow Dr. Beckett to treat him with a variant of the Hybrid gene therapy developed by the murderous Michael had almost resulted in an end to the Wraith as a threat...almost.

"I'm not saying that he deserves our trust, or that he's not going to play games...but in the end, so long as we have the same interests, we need him, and he needs us."

"And the moment that stops being true, he'll turn on us, like he always does."

"And when does, we'll be ready for it, like we always are." John asserted. Ronon's frown did not diminish, but he receded back into his seat. It was clear he knew there was nothing else to be said. All he could do was wait, and hope the chance arose to end Todd as a threat. After a long silence, Teyla rose from her chair.

"I must go and pack. Kanaan and Torren will need to know where I'm going." she said, eying Sheppard before adding, "I hope this does not backfire on us." As she exited the small lounge, one of many in the Administrative Tower of Atlantis, John muttered to himself under his breath.

"That makes two of us."

-O-

Optimus stood across from his assembled friends. He'd called together everyone he could on short notice. Ratchet was present, as were Ironhide and Drift. Also present were Mirage, Crosshairs, Beachcomber, Air Raid, First Aid and Hound, though they stood gathered behind the first three. The rest of the remaining Autobots were stationed offworld, like Prowl, or had other tasks elsewhere, like Arcee and Bumblebee.

If he had been human, Optimus would've sighed. There were so few of them now. Even when the war had begun, the Autobots had been at a numerical disadvantage, but here and now, he couldn't help but feel like perhaps this handful of soldiers left to him were all that he had. Every new face that trickled in to join him in his efforts to protect Earth seemed more like a reminder of what had been lost than something to be celebrated. He so wanted to stop this, to end the fighting and just try to protect these precious few lives which remained. But in his Spark, he knew Megatron too well to believe such a fantasy was possible.

"This mission before us is different from those we have so far undertaken..You have all worked admirably to help protect our adopted home, and defend its inhabitants against those that would do them harm. What lies ahead though is a different matter." he said, meeting the optics of each of the Autobots present. In them he saw the same unease, but stolid determination he had always seen, the courage that had carried them through this long war, and which he always prayed would see them beyond it.

"For those of you unaware, during the examination of the remains recovered from Langara earlier today, Ratchet was able to extract a functioning Decepticon communication link. With Drift's aid, he was able to access and monitor the Decepticon military communications network, which allowed him to record this signal." he stated, before transmitting the recording to the assembled Autobots. Before they could ask questions, he continued.

"The transmission was sent with enough force to blanket the entire communications network, and to our knowledge, it is still being sent. While its content is unclear, Drift was able to confirm it as Decepticon in origin, and give us a rough approximation of its source: the Pegasus Galaxy."

Though to the outside observer, the Autobots remained still and stolid, the internal comm chatter between them exploded with commotion. Was that all they knew? Was the communicator still functional? Where in the Pegasus? These were just some of the questions asked, but Optimus was forced to gloss over them, mostly because he didn't have any answers. It wouldn't help to say so however, so he merely continued.

"The amount of energy required to send such a transmission with such speed and on such a wide band suggests that it comes from a large, well-equipped Decepticon force, possibly a surviving fleet or lost dreadnaught. And rest assured, if we heard this signal, then Megatron has as well. It is very likely he is already preparing his own effort to locate its source."

Optimus watched as the faces of his friends and fellow warriors shifted, each expressing their worry or stubborn defiance in their own way. He wished he could reassure them more than he was, but such was the nature of war that nothing was ever certain.

"To this end, I am bringing Ratchet, Drift and Ironhide to accompany me to Pegasus, where we will assist the humans in locating, assessing and eliminating the Decepticon threat. Until I return, Prowl shall assume command. First Aid, you shall handle any medical concerns that arise in Ratchet's absence. And Hound, you will stand in for Ironhide to manage our armaments and supplies."

Instantly, the warriors he had named saluted in recognition of his orders. Optimus nodded in acknowledgement of their salutes.

"Autobots, roll out." With that the group, apart from the three he had chosen, transformed and departed, returning to their duties. Optimus felt the hole in his Spark deepen as he watched them leave. Lately it hadn't been so bad, but his confrontation with Sunstreaker had reopened it, and now it was taking considerable effort not to fall into it and let it close over the top of him.

"You should really stop acting like the weight of the universe is on your shoulders." Ratchet said, approaching him as he turned to walk towards the Autobot barracks. Ironhide and Drift followed, walking at a steady pace as Optimus looked over at his old friend. "It's not healthy. You'll start rusting prematurely." the medic added. Optimus chuckled sadly.

"Sometimes I feel like I already am, old friend." he replied.

The simple truth was that Optimus was tired. The ages of war had never been easy on him, Every lost friend had been a fresh cut, an extra wound, adding to the ache of his Spark, a pain that grew with each atrocity his former brother-in-arms committed. After the loss of the Allspark, his life, which had devolved into a struggle for survival against Megatron, had become a quest, a search. In this he had found purpose, and escaped the devastation the war had caused, even if only in his own mind. Then the Allspark was lost, apparently destroyed, before resurfacing in the form of Sam Witwicky, now somehow possessed by its energies. Thus Optimus had tied his fate to Earth's, certain that by its defense he could redeem himself and somehow still save Cybertron. Then he had died, only to rise again, reanimated by the Matrix of Leadership, the true Matrix, not the ornament that the High Council had given to him when they'd chosen him as the next Prime, a title which by that point had long since become purely ceremonial in nature.

To anyone else, such an occurence would have been an affirming flame, a sign of hope. Yet when he had stood over the body of the Fallen, clutching the shattered remains of the ancient being's Spark, all he had been able to think was 'Why me? After all I've done, all that I've caused, why was I the one it chose to bring back? What makes me worthy?' That question had sat in his mind, gnawing at his processors, and it had only gotten more puzzling and soul-wracking as time went on.

The changes that had followed hadn't helped his self-esteem either. As it turned out, his fears about humanity, their fragility and their fire, had proven to be unfounded. What's more, they had a legacy of their own they were inheriting, just as his had inherited that of the Dynasty of Primes. Suddenly his crusade to defend them from without and within seemed so trivial, so inconsequential. Again, the universe robbed him of purpose, and with no other choice, he was forced to look down at his legs and realize he was knee-deep in ash and rust. His head rang with the cries of a dead world, a world whose death he had taken part in, a world he had called home. The anguish of these truths would probably have crushed a lesser being, but he was Optimus Prime, and so long as his people still needed him, he would carry on, even if he didn't know why.

"You know, none of this is your fault." Ratchet said quietly. Optimus shook his head.

"If only that were true." he said.

"You didn't level Cybertron. Megatron did. You did everything you could to stop him." Ratchet pointed out. They've had this same discussion many times before, since before they left Cybertron. This time however, his words failed to reach his Prime as they had before.

"It is not that, Ratchet. I do not blame myself for fighting back against Megatron or for trying to save our world from the monster he became." he answered, "It is simply that I cannot see a way forward. I look into the end of the rail-tube and the only light I see is fire."

"You, lose hope?" scoffed Ratchet, "Very amusing. What have you done with the real Optimus Prime?" Optimus gave the medic a weak smile.

"If only it were so simple, Ratchet. But consider our situation: we refused the humans any access to our technology, for fear that they would either destroy themselves in their ignorance, or worse develop a newfound lust for power and become like the Decepticons. Now we have learned that they have already defended themselves against threats as great as any that Megatron could have unleashed, using weapons even more advanced than our own. They stand on the cusp of creating a new galactic order, of achieving a peace and level of prosperity that we once held ourselves." Optimus paused as a Jeep rolled past, it's driver calling out a 'Sorry, sir!' as he drove off.

"And while the sun rises on them, it is setting on us. Both sides have been diminished, our numbers scattered to to the far corners of the universe. Energon is dwindling, and the road home is too long to travel without it. Our once great home, Cybertron, is a beacon of development and progress no longer. The Sea of Rust has swallowed everything that stood on its coasts. The great and glittering forests of Tyger Pax are dust on the winds. All that remains is a dead world, with craters where once there stood cities." As they walked, Optimus looked out at the distant ocean, the spires of Atlantis shimmering in a pale imitation of the towers of Polyhex. Another reminder of a lost wonder, another wound he would carry with him always. He continued his stride, and his speech. Ratchet kept pace, his expression growing harder to read as his leader spoke.

"It has been vorns since any of us have heralded the birth of new Sparklings, save those of Megatron, most of whom likely die of starvation regardless even before reaching adolescence. The neutral colonies, those that survive, have cut their ties with both sides. The few with the power to do so have closed their borders, with the rest vanishing entirely from our midst thanks to Starscream. His selfish raids on their Energon reserves to replenish those of his armada has vilified both our factions in the eyes of those who refused to join our war. We are a dying people, Ratchet. The last vestige of hope for our world, for our very species, resides in Sam, a human. That his people have shown us the compassion they have is more than we deserve. Yet even with their help, our chances of survival remain questionable." There was a long pause as Ratchet considered his Prime's words.

"This is what has been weighing on you?" he finally asked. Optimus nodded.

"I do not feel responsible for fighting to defend the future, Ratchet. I feel responsible for the fact that through my actions, I have brought about the death of the future I swore to create and protect."
"Optimus, simply because you cannot see a way forward does not mean one does not exist." Ratchet chided.

"And yet after so many dashed hopes...even I have limits, old friend."

"Why does this come to you now then?" asked Ratchet, "You have suffered more than any of us, Optimus, because you bear the burden of command. Yet here you stand, still fighting."

"Perhaps it is because it is all we have left."
"And perhaps it is because with an end so close in sight, you fear this new arrival will prolong the conflict?" the medic shot back. That gave Optimus pause, and he turned to face the old mech.

"I...don't understand."

Ratchet rolled his optics and huffed irritably.

"Optimus, through all the cycles that we have fought, you were never the one to lose hope. Even when we were forced to leave Cybertron, you never gave up the possibility that we could achieve peace with the Decepticons. You have never bowed to despair, and by Primus you will not begin to do so now." Ratchet slammed his palm against the Prime's shoulder, make his frame shudder. "However, you are right about the humans, and they have a bold new future ahead of them, one of their own making. We both see that they are standing close to the edge of victory over their own darkness, yet all you can think of is your own. Don't you see? Maybe we are dying. Maybe we deserve it. Perhaps that is our punishment from Primus himself for what we let Cybertron become before the War. But that's not for me, or even you to say. What I do know is that if the humans achieve what they seek to accomplish, we may gain what you yourself hoped to find in Earth: a new home. Yes, perhaps we will never attain the glory of our forebears, but isn't peace and a new epoch preferable to clinging to the ways of the old guard? If the old dream is gone, isn't it better to find a new one than spend forever trying to reclaim it?"

Optimus frowned. He wished he had a response, but found he could not muster one, because on some level, Ratchet was right. When the war had begun, it had been between himself and Megatron. Both saw the corruption and suffering plaguing their world. Where Megatron had sought to burn down the old order, Optimus had sought transition. Now after the conflict between them had reached its twilight terminus, there was nothing left for either of them, not even foundations on which to rebuild.

Perhaps Ratchet was right. Perhaps Cybertron would never recover, and the only future for either side was peace or oblivion. Perhaps the Age of Cybertron had ended, and all that could be hoped for was to become part of the Age of Humanity. It stung his pride to consider it, for even he had wanted more than that...but was mutual annihilation an acceptable alternative, especially when it might also mean ending this age of man before it could even begin?

No, he decided. No, he would not let the cinders of yesterday choke the world of tomorrow, even if his people's part in that world was not the one he had envisioned.

"Thank you, Ratchet." he said.

"For what?" the old medic asked, looking confused.

"For being there to kick me in the helm when I needed it." he said, smirking. The old mech gave him a rare grin of his own.

"What else are friends for?"

-O-

The days that followed passed largely without incident for John. As always, there was the paperwork, which kept him busy for most of the interim, though thankfully it wasn't actually printed on paper anymore. As he worked, wheels turned around him. Teyla took a day off to have one last dinner with her family back on the mainland. Rodney and Zelenka argued almost ceaselessly, though about what John could never tell. It seemed like they switched to a different subject every time he saw them. Both would be coming on the journey, despite their disagreements. Zelenka would be handling the subspace tracking efforts being run out of the Alpha Site while Rodney would do what he had always done and accompany Sheppard in case there was a need for his scientific expertise.

Lennox took the news that he was to be in command until Sheppard's return without fuss. As soon as the forms were signed, he had his close friend and long-time subordinate Epps replace himself as 2IC. John, meanwhile, used his authority to requisition Major Lorne, one of the old crew from the days in Pegasus, to act as his own official second in command on the mission. Lorne, like John, was an old hand in matters pertaining to Pegasus. He knew his way around, which was what John needed. Much as he had come to depend on Lennox and Epps, they were ill-suited for the territory the mission would be heading into. It would be better for everyone to let them stay behind and handle the home turf in case Megatron or Starscream tried something.

Finally the day of departure rolled around, and inevitably Sheppard found himself standing in the exact same spot he had been standing on a certain fateful day four years ago, looking into an all-too-familiar face.

"It's really creepy how peaceful he looks." he commented, staring at the slumbering, nightmarishly-pale visage under the glassy surface of the stasis field.

"Aye, ye've got that right." sympathized Doctor Carson Beckett from his place at the pod controls next to John, "Vitals are stable though, just as we left 'im. There's nothing tae keep 'im in there, although I could probably invent something if ye want to change yer mind." John snorted.

"I wish. But we need him." he replied. Carson gave him a wary, uncertain look, but turned back to his console before anything else could be said. As head of Atlantis' biochemical science division, Beckett had been charged with monitoring Todd's condition as part of his duties. He'd often griped about it, stating he was a doctor, not a prison warden, but he'd done his best to keep the Wraith alive regardless. John wished he could bring him on the mission ahead, but as things stood, he doubted he could justify bringing even more of the leadership of Atlantis along on the trip. Rodney and Zelenka already accounted for the heads of two different research divisions. Requisitioning more would only be tempting fate. Besides, galaxy-wide hunt for giant robots wasn't really the place for a medical researcher.

As he waited for Beckett to complete his preparations, John looked around. There were a dozen security personnel present, arranged in a crescent around the pod and armed with zat'nik'tel pistols. He would've preferred Wraith Stunners, but the remaining ones that Atlantis had been carrying during its return to Earth had burned out long ago, and despite the best efforts of Doctor Lee at Area 51, they had yet to develop a means of properly recharging them. Thus the appropriated Goa'uld weapons would need to serve for the time being. John simply hoped that if things came down to it, no one got trigger-happy. It took two shots from a zat to kill a human. Everyone present knew this. However, they also all knew that Wraith were by nature much more resilient than humans...especially just after they'd fed. Carson finally looked up from his control panel.

"Alright, we're ready." he declared.

"Unfreeze him." John ordered. Carson nodded, though with an expression which said he was having many of the same thoughts as Ronon, who was also present, blaster pistol drawn and aimed at Todd's head. With a few taps on the crystal keyboard, a crackling sound like plastic wrap being crinkled filled the air. Then the smooth barrier protecting the small alcove rippled before receding into its rear, passing right through its occupant.

There was a moment of stillness. Then, like two ancient garage doors opening, eyelids parted and pale orbs with greenish-yellow irises and black, slitted pupils were suddenly staring back at Sheppard. He saw Carson shift uncomfortably out of the corner of his eye. The security team was tensed, clearly just waiting for Todd to lunge forward and try to snag breakfast. As his gaze met Todd's though, he knew that wouldn't be happening. Todd was a predator, but he was a smart one, and patient too. He could afford to wait for an opening.

"Colonel Sheppard." The words jerked John out of his staring match, their gravelly, growling, alien undercurrent briefly startling him after so many years of its absence.

"Todd. You look a little sleepy. Want me to get you some coffee? There's an espresso machine two floors down." Sheppard had always found that sarcasm and being acerbic were the best way to get the upper hand in a conversation with a Wraith. For one thing, it was a good way to get them angry, and when they were angry, they were easier to outsmart. Todd though had become accustomed to his way with words, and so instead gave a small smirk, showing he knew what John was up to.

"That you have decided to awaken me suggests there is a problem that you require my help in solving."

"Possibly. Though that depends on whether or not you can still claim to have a leadership position in your little alliance after four years away. I would think they'd have voted you out by now." John replied. Todd's face became a cool, impassive, if somewhat unhappy, mask.

"Four years, you say?" he asked.

"Give or take a few months. Also, we haven't really stayed in touch with the old country as much as we expected to, so whether or not the Wraith are even still an issue is up in the air." John explained, being sure to pour casual dismissal into every syllable. Todd remained unphased. After a ten second pause in which he scanned the room with his yellow predator's eyes, he nodded.

"I see. But the fact that I am not yet cooling on the floor still implies that you think I might be of some use." he growled, "Of course, being an amicable being, I offer my services...for a price, of course." As he said this, he raised his arms in offering, instantly causing the security team to tense up even further. The clicking and beeping sounds of zat guns being armed, their cobra-like shapes unfolding in their owners' hands, echoed through the room side by side with the lighter click of safeties being taken off tasers. Over it all came the sound of Ronon's gun, it's harsh buzz indicating he too had switched off the safety on his weapon. The Satedan's eyes were narrowed to slits, daring the pale alien vampire to try something.

"If it's food, you can forget about it." John said, not bothering to tell everyone to hold their fire because he wasn't yet sure if they should.

"Oh, not food." Todd replied, lowering his arms to his sides slowly. "Though some proper garments would be a good start." He indicated the standard green jumpsuit he was wearing, the same one he had been forced into after his capture four years ago. John did his best not to break eye contact much as he desperately wanted to.

There was something primal and terribly hypnotic about those eyes, like a snake's, but with more emotion. They were a predator's eyes, hungry, remorseless, but also those of an intelligent being, full of subtle nuances that spoke of hidden agendas and wheels turning in the dark recesses of a crafty mind. The juxtaposition was unsettling, and John found himself wondering if that was how rabbits saw humans. After all, the situation here certainly felt like that was what was happening: two individuals watching each other across the gap in the food chain, waiting to see who would make the first move.

John chided himself internally. He was not the rabbit in this situation...or if he was, he was that killer one from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. He wasn't going to let Todd get the drop on him.

"We can talk about that. So long as you agree to help us do what we need to."

"After which I presume I will be put back in stasis, for the next crisis?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"On whether or not you try and betray us." John answered nonchalantly, "In which case I will shoot you myself, before allowing Ronon to dismember your body." It was barely noticeable, but Todd flinched, glancing over at the Satedan, who gave him a grin very similar to the one that drowning men often saw swimming towards them right before they lost a leg or an arm. However, he quickly recovered, glancing over to Carson, making the Scottish man struggle not to take an involuntary step back.

"I can accept that...but I would like to state my terms before we go any further."

"Do you know what a negotiating position looks like?" John retorted, "Because this isn't one."

"On the contrary." Todd answered, his tone smooth and unflustered, "You need my help. You can kill me if I refuse to give it, certainly, but where does that leave you?"

"You're not getting anything." Ronon growled.

"My price is quite simple:" the Wraith stated, ignoring the big warrior and focusing on John again, "I need copies on all of your notes and research materials regarding the serum used to create the Wraith Hybrids. It has been four years, so I presume you have made progress, yes?"

John's internal alarms immediately began ringing. What possible use could Todd have for that information? Yes, once upon a time he'd agreed to let himself be a test subject for Doctor Jennifer Keller in her efforts to eliminate the Wraiths' need to feed on humans, but that experiment had failed and nearly killed him. What value could he possibly see in it now?

"For what?" he asked, "What do you need it for?" Todd chuckled.

"Let us say that I feel it has many possibilities." he said. Immediately John turned to Ronon.

"Ronon?" he asked.

"Yeah?" the towering Satedan responded, not taking his eyes off his target.

"You think you can find somewhere to shoot him that won't kill him?" The ropy Rastafarian hairstyle Ronon prefered spread out a bit as he shrugged his broad, bronzed shoulders.

"Probably." This caused Todd to roll his eyes in a very human expression of exasperation.

"Before you froze me, I had a month to ponder my situation. You had made it eminently clear that you had no intention of letting me go, and with every day that passed, my hunger grew. I knew you would never let me sate it, so I started trying to think of alternatives. One of them was perfecting the gene therapy Doctor Beckett helped develop, which would eliminate my need to feed altogether."

"But if you took it, the other Wraith wouldn't take you back." John pointed out.

"Unless they took it as well." Todd pointed out. John's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"You want to go through with that old plan?"

"If it means not starving, then yes, I am. And if it works, well, all the better for you and yours, no?"

"Sheppard…" Ronon growled, his voice containing the same warning tone it had held during their discussion two days prior. Obviously he wasn't buying it. But then John had to admit it sounded just self-interested enough to be a 'Todd' kind of plan. Of course it had the first time they had tried it too, but Todd hadn't been their prisoner then...and Sheppard knew better than most how compelling a Wraith's hunger could be as a motivator when paired with the desire to survive. After two straight minutes of silence, he finally let out a sigh.

"Alright, fine...but only after we get back." he said. He swore he could hear Ronon's teeth grinding as a smile spread across Todd's face, revealing his own, very-pointy grin.

"An acceptable arrangement." he said, bowing his head. John saw the movement, reading the condescension in it like an open book. His eyes narrowed, but he put on his best smile.

"Good. But before we go further, I just want to make something clear." he said. Then he walked around the control panel and approached the Wraith, who now looked curious and confused. As he did, he put out his hand in silent command, causing one of the guards to hand his zat to him. Then in one smooth motion, John raised the weapon, activated it, and shot Todd once in the chest.

"Colonel!" Beckett cried, but did not move from his position.

The look of surprise on Todd's face was priceless, to say the least, though somewhat tempered by the furious snarl he released as he collapsed to the floor, twitching and wreathed in little arcs of blue electricity, face contorted with anger.

"Just remember this:" John said, squatting down to look his 'frenemy' in the eye, all the humor gone from his voice, "You betray us again, and I won't stop at one shot."

With that, he rose and turned, handing the weapon back to its owner.

"Get him in restraints. We move out in three hours." he ordered, then marched out the door. As he passed Ronon, the Satedan took his sights off the twitching Todd, his face a mixed mask of schadenfreude and admiration. He holstered his weapon, reengaging the safeties, then followed John out, Beckett close behind.

"Did you ye really have tae shoot 'im?" grumbled the doctor.

"It's just a reminder of how things are. He's been out of the loop, so I thought he could use a refresher course." John said, his voice deadpan.

"I wouldn't have stopped at one." Ronon commented, though his tone was cheery, light-hearted, as it always was when Wraith of any sort were suffering.

"Yeah, well...we still need him."

"I just hope he doesn't hold a grudge." Beckett commented.

"Oh he will...but he'll bide his time. He's dependable like that. Besides, in the end, he knows we have him on a leash. Until he thinks we've dropped it, he'll behave."

"Then fer yer sake, Colonel, I hope ye don't drop it." Beckett said.

o

A/N: And there you have it! The band's all back together! The stage is set! I'll admit I'm a little worried I haven't given some people their time in the spotlight, Ronon and McKay definitely need their own scenes, but on the whole, I think I'm handling things well. This has become largely a Sheppard-centric story, I'll admit, but there's sort of a reason for that. Next time, we return to Pegasus, and the real issues start!