Chapter 13
Friends in Strange Places
When John stepped back onto New Athos, he immediately noticed that someone had arranged wooden boxes around the DHD to serve as cover, with cargo netting draped between them. From behind this makeshift barricade, the barrels of half a dozen assault carbines protruded like the points of spears.
"Clear!" came the voice of Lorne from behind the DHD, the Lieutenant Colonel rising and motioning for the other soldiers to do the same while lowering their weapons.
"Ma- Lieutenant," Sheppard asked, catching himself before he could contradict his own field promotion, "what's going on? You said there was some trouble before we came through?"
"Sort of, sir." the ex-Major replied, looking both sheepish and uncertain, "No violence, but...well, Teyla and Ronon got back about an hour ago, and given you were supposed to be back before them..." He looked over at John, still dripping from the torrential rainstorm he'd just hiked through as if to ask what had taken him so long.
"We were busy marching through mud." John answered reproachfully to the unspoken question, glowering at him, "Otherwise we would've been here sooner."
"Ah." Lorne seemed lost for a moment, but quickly recovered, "Well anyway, it's good to see you're alright, sir. I wouldn't want to have to be promoted again." John rolled his eyes.
"Yes; that would be a tragedy." he grated. The Lieutenant Colonel just smiled, then looked past him and frowned.
"Uh...sir, where's the prisoner?" he asked nervously.
"He's dead." John said flatly. Lorne's face went blank.
"I see...so the mission was a failure?" he asked, tone grim as the slate-gray clouds that seemed to have taken up position over the camp. Tangentially, part of John prayed that didn't mean it was about to rain. After the hike back to the Stargate, he'd had his fill of rain and then some.
"No, at least not according to Rodney. We got the signal sent. Now we wait for a reply."
"Then Todd-" Lorne began, confusion spreading over his face. John waved a dripping hand.
"Forget about it, Evan." he said, using the man's first name in the hopes that it would prevent further questions, "What about Teyla and Ronon? Are they alright?" The Lieutenant Colonel's face twisted even further in confusion, then straightened out as he visibly put aside the matter of the missing Wraith and tried to refocus. After all, the death had happened on John's watch, not his. It was just one more thing the AOA was going to roast him for.
"They're fine, sir." he answered, "Though they have some very weird stories to tell."
"Did they succeed?" John pressed, hoping that maybe his costly success meant his luck, that all their luck, was finally turning around.
"It's...complicated." Lorne replied apologetically. He nodded towards moderately-sized heap of boxes that represented what remained of their supplies. Ronon was sitting on top of one of the large ones, eating a plastic-wrapped sandwich with a look of displeasure. "You'll need to talk with them about it."
John sighed, then turned to Lorne.
"First, get me some towels." he ordered. The Lieutenant Colonel smiled.
"Yessir." he chuckled.
-O-
About twenty minutes later, Ronon looked up from his dissatisfying meal to see a much drier John Sheppard marching towards him. Finishing the meager meal off (which tasted like sand and tea-leaves in any case), the former Runner hopped down off his seat. For a moment, the two stood there looking at each other in silence.
"You look awful." Ronon finally said. John let out a snort of laughter.
"Better than I did five minutes ago at least." he joked. Despite the attempt at humor, Ronon could tell something was troubling him, and he didn't need a brain like McKay's to figure out what.
"So...Todd?"
"He's dead. Locked himself in the reactor chamber to make sure we had enough power to transmit." John replied, his expression taking on a stormy cast. For a moment, silence once again reigned. Ronon had never understood his friend's odd relationship with the Wraith. Maybe being partly turned into one had left a mark on his soul somehow, or perhaps it was the time he'd spent sharing a cell block with the creature. After watching his planet burn and spending seven years being hunted, Ronon could never do anything but hate the Wraith, yet here his friend seemed almost mournful. It was baffling.
"Did you see the body?" Ronon inquired. John shook his head. Ronon frowned. "Then I wouldn't call him dead yet."
"I heard him die." John countered. Ronon just shook his head.
"He's Wraith. They don't commit suicide, not for humans, and they don't go into something blindly." Now it was John's turn to shake his head.
"He's gone either way. Not much we can do now except wait for the Odyssey." he replied, before looking Ronon squarely in the eye, "Speaking of which, Lorne says you succeeded with the supply issue." Ronon immediately felt his guts tighten. He'd been dreading this. Teyla had been more understanding than he could've hoped for, but now he had to tell his friend and superior that he'd taken a risk with all of their lives by trusting in a Genii.
True, Natashii Divala did not strike him as being like most Genii, but even with that fancy set of tags and the strange patch on her uniform, she answered to Ladon, however tangentially He started to explain, hesitantly at first, but eventually the words came pouring out like a stream coming undammed during a monsoon. All the while, Sheppard's face remained remarkably composed. Ronon did his best to sound sincere and honest, hoping desperately his friend would understand. Even so, he could see the sparks of betrayal flying behind the Colonel's eyes. Finally he reached the end of his tale and leaned back on the boxes behind him. There was yet another awkward pause.
"So...uh...you're angry, right?" the ex-Runner tried awkwardly.
"I'm not sure what I am Ronon." John replied, sagging back, and Ronon realized that in his worries about his friend's possible rage, he'd overlooked his obvious exhaustion. Whether or not this meant he was in the mood to be understanding however was still completely up in the air. Ronon couldn't help but think how during his own martial training, he'd reserved any bad news for his instructor until after he was too worn out to pummel his student further. Sure, sometimes it'd worked, but it often also meant he just beat Ronon twice as hard the following day in the sparring circle. John put his hands to his face and dragged them down, sucking in a long breath.
"Christ, why can't anything ever be easy!" he groaned, before lowering his hands his hips and looking back up at his Satedan friend.
"You trusted her...even though she's working for Ladon?"
"I trusted her in spite of that." Ronon clarified, "She's a soldier. An old soldier too. If she can help, she will. Plus there was something...I don't know. I'm not sure I can put it in words."
"What?" Sheppard snapped. Ronon shook his head.
"I don't think the Genii care about us anymore. At least not like they used to. With the Travelers on their side, they've got spaceships. Sure, they're not Jumpers, but then after as long as we've been away, I'll bet they think the city is never coming back. And with everything that's going on...I don't know."
"They could still take hostages, Ronon." John growled, "If they still want our technology, they'll find a way to get it."
"Probably...but right now I think that they believe they've got bigger problems. With all the work they've put into building up the Confederation, I don't think they'll just drop everything." Ronon shrugged, "I don't know Sheppard. I can't talk to people like Teyla, or plan wars or read thoughts. All I can say is that I think she'll come through for us."
Again, the ugly pause. In it, Ronon could feel the gap between him and his friend, formed by this risk, and the struggle both of them were making to close it. He knew John trusted him like he trusted John, but the scale of the gamble Ronon had taken was big, bigger than any he'd taken in a long while. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, John relaxed, shaking his head once more. He held out his hand.
"You said Teyla had you draw a picture of this symbol Natashii was wearing." he said, "Have you still got it?"
"She made a copy of her own, so yeah." Ronon answered, reaching into his pant's pockets in relief. He fished out the crinkled, folded slip of paper and handed it to the Colonel, who unfolded it and examined it carefully. As he did, Ronon watched his face, his struggle to understand written in the wrinkle of his brow. Eventually he held it up to the gray skies, turning it.
"Is it just me…" he said slowly, "or does this look like-"
"What?" Ronon asked, curiosity growing. Teyla had refused to voice her suspicions after glimpsing the odd icons, and despite wracking his brain for similarities, Ronon had largely come up blank.
"Well the Genii flag is that triple-pointed gear-shape with the two curved sword-things on the sides." John observed, "This looks like the Autobot symbol…"
"But with the Decepticon mask?"
Both men flinched in surprise, John's head whipping around like a weather-cock until he spotted Teyla, who had apparently come up behind him without either him or Ronon noticing. He glared irritably at her, though Ronon chuckled before his humor was sucked away by the dour look on both his friends' faces.
"I just got back from speaking with Optimus." Teyla explained looking back over her shoulder briefly towards the galactically out-of-place cars in the corner of the clearing. "He confirmed my fears. The image is a fusion of both factions' sigils. The lines and shapes were too precise for it to be otherwise, he said."
"But what does that mean?" John pressed, "I mean, are the Genii working for the Decepticons?" Ronon felt thunderclouds filling his heart at that suggestion and its implications. Teyla shook her head though, offering a ray of light.
"He says it's unlikely. Remember, most Decepticons consider working with organics as beneath them. Even those that do tend to use a proxy. Remember Starscream and Storm Jet?" she pointed out, holding up her own piece of paper, with a much neater rendition of the odd icon on it than Ronon's. John nodded at her words, as did Ronon, both remembering the Decepticon second-in-command's plot to use the Wraith to his advantage and the events that had brought the Alliance into existence. There was a long, long pause after this, longer that all the others put together. In the midst of this grim silence, Rodney emerged from the milling bodies around the camp and wandered over.
"Hey guys. I just came back to grab seconds. One sandwich is-" he started, moving towards the box of wrapped and packaged MREs Ronon was leaning on before the ex-Runner reached out and stopped him.
"We're on rationing, remember?" he said firmly. The physicist backed up with an expression of mixed apology and frustration.
"Right, right. I knew that." he said, before spotting the paper in John's hand and sidling up to look at it over his shoulder.
"Hey, doesn't that look like the Autobot-" he began after a moment.
"Yes, Rodney. We know. I spoke with Optimus." Teyla interrupted, her tone calm but indicating that shutting up would probably be for the best. McKay's mouth opened, then closed. It didn't open again. Meanwhile, Sheppard looked back and forth between the two versions of the symbol, shaking his head, before finally sighing in frustration.
"We don't know enough. Part of me wants to say 'splinter faction', and another wants to say maybe the Genii are working for the 'Cons and don't know it. But there's just too many blanks and not enough facts. Until we know more, we'll have to be careful."
His words were punctuated by the sudden *KAWOOSH* of the Stargate activating, casting a flickering silver light over the whole camp yet again.
"Unscheduled offworld activation!" bellowed someone. Instantly, the guards Lorne had set around the DHD and the associated empty boxes spun in place, dropping to a knee and taking up firing positions. John turned and ran, dropping the paper on the dirt. Ronon followed, hand reaching for his own energy pistol, undoing the holster's safety strap and spinning the long-barreled gun into position in one smooth motion. All four of the team dashed up to join the waiting soldiers in time to see something small, white and angular pop through the shimmering event horizon, soar a few feet with a rustling noise, then come to rest in the dirt with a loopy spiralling path of descent. Then, without ceremony, the wormhole disconnected with a hiss of static. Again, there was another of those damned awkward pauses, this one the strangest of all. Together, Ronon, Teyla, Rodney, John, and everyone else present stared down blankly at the folded paper airplane, as odd and out of place as the two and a half aliens disguised as vehicles in the corner of the camp.
"Clear!" shouted Lorne, causing the soldiers to lower their weapons, some visibly trembling in the progress. It had clearly taken a lot of effort for them not to open fire when the little contraption had come through. Now it sat demurely on the dirt, apparently awaiting...something. John took the initiative, vaulting over the box in front of him. Under his breath, Ronon heard him mutter: "If this is another time-travel thing…"
The rest of the statement was lost as the ex-Runner watched his superior stride forward, bend over and retrieve the crude folded 'aircraft'. He turned it over in his hands, then appeared to notice something, causing him to quickly unfold it.
"Huh…" he grunted, looking it over. Ronon crossed the barricade and joined him, not needing to look over Sheppard's shoulder as look down at the paper in his hands. As Sheppard's reaction had suggested, there was writing on it; specifically, Genii writing. Ronon knew enough of most major Pegasus languages to read some of the text, but like the Colonel, he deferred to Teyla when she approached. John handed her the paper, causing her to fold up her copy of the mystery sigil and tuck it away before grasping the new sheet of stationary. Her eyes flicked over the characters quickly, while her brows knotted in concern.
"Well, what does it say?" John asked.
"It's an invitation…" Teyla started, as if not sure she could believe what she was reading, "And an explanation." She turned and looked up at Ronon. "It also says it's from Natashii Divala of the Confederate Fleet."
"Wait, back up." Rodney said, looking confused, "Who?" As Teyla read on, John quickly recounted Ronon's story in a half-whisper to make sure his friend knew what was being discussed. As he explained, Rodney's natural scowl deepened, and by the end he looked ready to turn on Ronon before Teyla's voice cut him off.
"It says she has managed to authorize the transfer of some supplies from an operation on-" She trailed off as she read further.
"What?" Sheppard pressed. Like Ronon and Rodney, his eyes were wide with surprise and anticipation. Even Ronon was shocked. He hadn't expected a reply so soon! Perhaps in a day, or a few more hours at the very least, if at all, but now?! Teyla turned the paper around an indicated a line of text with a finger. Most of the symbols followed the basic pattern of the Genii alphabet, but seven stood out as abstract, matching symbols found chiefly in one place throughout Pegasus; on the ring of the Stargate.
"That address looks familiar…" Rodney noted, "I swear I've seen it before."
"I thought you remembered the address of every planet you've ever been to."
"Not this one...or at least I've never been there more than once…" Rodney fumbled, trying to excuse himself from the trap of his own hubris. Teyla simply smirked and turned the paper back around to finish reading.
"She says that technically the operation is there to survey the planet for expansion of farming to help meet increasing grain productions, but that in reality they're scouting the area for use as a forward base in the region."
"Okay, now am I the only one who finds it really suspicious that the Genii are suddenly being so friendly and open about their secret plans?"
"Divala isn't Genii." Ronon countered.
"But she answers to them." McKay rebuffed.
"To the Confederate Senate, of which the Genii are part." Teyla sighed.
"You mean which they run." Rodney sneered. He crossed his arms, but said nothing else, obviously waiting for Teyla to finish.
"She also says she wants the exchange to be discrete, and that we are to dress as grain traders. Apparently the idea of helping us using what should be military resources would be...unpopular."
"Now that I can understand." Sheppard grunted, "We'll probably need to borrow some clothes. Also, a wagon...and a thistle."
"For what?" Rodney asked, confused. John smirked.
"If we're dressed as farmers we want to look the part, right?" There was a moment of silence in which a massive gap of cultural misunderstanding yawned open before Rodney simply scowled at John.
"That's not funny." he growled.
"Whatever." John retorted.
"If I could be allowed to finish?" Teyla asked testily. John waved for her to go on. She gave him a scowl of her own, then continued.
"She also says she will send someone from her operation who is familiar with Atlantis to make the exchange. She-" Teyla broke off mid-sentence, eyes zipping back and forth as if re-reading the same sentence several times to make sure she had actually seen what she thought she had. When she spoke again, it was with a confused, halting tone, like she couldn't believe the words even when they were spoken aloud. "She says...that he will have something...a gesture of good faith...which will help save your wounded metal friend...and an offer of his own."
"She what!?" McKay choked, before rounding on Ronon, "How much did you tell them!?"
"It's not like it's anything new." Ronon said defensively, "Lorne gave them our files on the Transformers, right?"
"Yes, but he didn't tell them we had an injured one here! If they want that technology-" Rodney spluttered.
"Rodney, enough." John snapped.
"How can you possibly be okay with this!?" demanded the physicist, whirling on his friend, "You know the Genii are all about stealing technology!"
"I said that's enough!" Sheppard shouted, stunning the physicist back into silence. Before he could open his mouth to continue his tirade, John turned back to Teyla. "Is there anything else?" he asked. Teyla shook her head, looking a little startled at John's outburst, though not as much as Rodney. Ronon could tell that she saw just as he did that John's mood was dangerously unbalanced. Leaving Earth under the cloud of bad news generated by learning of the decision made by Ford's family had done little to leave him in a happy state of mind, though he'd covered it up well. Now with everything that had happened since, that mask was slipping, and no one wanted to be there when it finally came all the way off.
"Alright." John said, nodding in response to Teyla's unspoken answer, "I'm going to go grab some fresh people to come with us. Teyla, I need you and Ronon to gather up those clothes and that cart I mentioned. We need to act fast on this. We've still got a day and time to spare before the Odyssey arrives to pick us up, presuming it gets our signal. We need to make sure everyone here that can lives to see that."
"What about the special offer?" Ronon inquired. The way the note had phrased that particular bit of information had made him uncomfortable. Truth be told, all of this was making him uncomfortable now that the initial shock of the sudden payoff for his gambit had worn away. Doubts were swarming him, like they always did when dealing with anything connected to the Genii. John simply shook his head.
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Presuming it doesn't catch fire as we're crossing it." McKay groused under his breath. If Sheppard heard him, he didn't show it, instead choosing to simply wave his hand in dismissal.
"You have your jobs. Go. I'll meet you back here in an hour and a half." he commanded, pausing to check his watch. For a moment, Teyla looked like she wanted to voice her own concerns, mouth opening in preparation to speak, but Ronon circled around and dropped a hand on her shoulder. As she looked back at him, the ex-Runner nodded to his superior.
"We'll be here." he grunted, then nodded up the trail leading to the Athosian settlement while glancing at Teyla, who stared back at him with an uncertain expression. Finally she nodded as well, and together they moved away, leaving Rodney and John together, as they departed, the physicist spoke up again.
"And what about me? Am I seriously the only one here who thinks this is a bad plan?" he hissed.
"No, but you're welcome to stay here." John replied, turning and starting to walk away. Caught off guard, McKay scurried to keep up.
"You're making it awfully tempting!" he snapped.
"If you're worried they'll try and capture you, all you need to do is say so." John said in mock confusion. Rodney made a scoffing noise as the two left earshot, rendering the Canadian's reply inaudible and leaving Ronon and Teyla to travel on in relative silence.
"Ronon...this is get out of hand." Teyla finally said as they reached the edge of the camp. The Satedan turned to stare at her in confusion.
"I don't-" he started, before she cut him off with a placating shake of her head, before glancing over her shoulder towards John and Rodney, now barely visible between the tents and moving bodies of the camp's inhabitants.
"Not your decision. You did what you thought was right. It's just this situation…" she said, her tone worried. She held up the remains of the paper airplane, still clutched in her right hand, shaking it and gesturing at the whole camp. "Ever since we returned to Pegasus, things have just gotten more and more complicated, not to mention dangerous and out of control." She sighed, looking away from the camp and back to the paper. "We're all under a lot of stress...and I think it's affecting John in particular."
"I have no idea what you're talking about…" Ronon said bluntly, before realizing his blaster was still out of its holster and making a move to put it away. He tried to hide the motion, but Teyla spotted it and locked eyes with him.
"I'm not saying it's just him that's under a lot of stress." she said lightly, clearly trying to gloss over the ex-Runner's absent-minded moment, "But you recall how I mentioned that he was dealing with the decision made by Ford's family before we came here?" Ronon stared straight ahead, hoping his friend wouldn't notice the blank stare he was wearing as he wracked his brains for any memory of what she was talking about. Unfortunately it proved ineffective, as she nudged him hard in the side.
"What was that for!?" he complained, trying his best to look offended but instead ending up feeling and looking even more guilty. Teyla glowered at him and shook her head.
"You are a master of many things Ronon, but hiding your emotions is not one of them."
"Yeah, well…" he grumbled, "we can't all be-"
"My point is," Teyla said, rolling right over his retort, "John was suffering from a lot of guilt about things that happened here in Pegasus just before we left, and now that we're here, and everything's going wrong, I think it may be affecting him more than he wants to admit."
"What makes you say that?" Ronon asked, putting more spring into his step, not wanting to get nudged again. When he noticed Teyla was not keeping pace, he turned around and saw her standing on the trail, looking back over her shoulder with a wistful expression.
"He was rather quick to leap on the opportunity presented by that note...and after everything that's happened, I can't help but wonder if it's simple determination...or desperation."
-O-
In their designated corner of the camp, Optimus and Drift idled in their vehicle form, quietly mulling over the image that Teyla Emmagan had shown them on the scrap of paper. Theoretically, this was to try and suss out the potential meaning of the strange icon, but for Optimus it was mostly to avoid facing the fact that one of his oldest friends was quietly dying less than twenty meters away...and there was nothing he could do. He quashed that thought before it could grow further. He'd gone through the cycle of questioning his own worth as a leader more times than Cybertron had orbited its parent star, and it had never amounted to anything of worth.
The mysterious icon was not helping matters. The lack of information regarding its origins and potential meaning only added to the Prime's stress, especially with the knowledge that it had come from a source that had no reasonable right to have any connection with it. The vast majority of Decepticons would rather die than collaborate with any organic species. More than that, they respected strength, and while the Wraith would repulse them as much as they did Optimus, they would be more likely to align themselves (if indeed they felt the need to) with them, rather than the Confederation, a power that for the most part was only just entering the era of spaceflight.
When you look at it...what do you feel? Optimus inquired over his private channel to Drift, seeking distraction from his own thoughts in the chance to investigate someone else's. The former Decepticon answered slowly, and with considerable trepidation, as if putting considerable thought into his answer.
Uncertainty. Instinct leads me to view anything that bears the mask of the Fallen is a worthy target of suspicion.
And yet the Fallen was a Prime...once. Optimus pointed out, grabbing into the implied 'but' left unspoken but present in his subordinate's tone. The blue-shelled Autobot gave a metaphorical shrug indicated by a change in his sensation through the private channel.
And Megatron was once a noble leader bent on correcting the rotted institutions that once made him a slave in Kaon. Without context, it is just a symbol.
Yet you so quickly deride it as an icon of mistrust. Optimus countered.
Instinct leads me to see it as such. Drift restated.
Yet you harbor doubt. If you set aside your instinct, what does your Spark tell you? Optimus replied. He'd honed his skills of reasoning and debate under Alpha Trion, and his own Spark was telling him that he'd be a fool not to investigate this subject further. There was a very long pause in which one could almost hear the circuits firing as Drift tried to compose a conclusion that he could voice in a comprehensible manner. Finally he responded, the trepidation twice as strong as before.
You once said of humans that there was more to them than met the eye. Everything we have learned of them in our time together has only reinforced this. From their division comes unity, and from their simplicity emerges ingenuity. Speaking from a purely evolutionary perspective, it is wise to hide your true strength, and few species we have encountered do this as well as humans. he proclaimed, his slow speech indicating he was building his argument even as he presented it to his superior, This symbol...I feel it represents that hidden strength. In my service to Megatron, I learned all too well that behind the mask we wore as his followers was an empty purpose, a dream of empire as hollow as every word to come out of Starscream's mouth. Yet in my service to you, I have also seen the cost of fighting for ideals over all else...and the cost that comes with it.
An interesting theory… Optimus admitted, So you would say that this...icon is a reflection of what the humans are? A union of Decepticon and Autobot?
Perhaps. But the fact is that this icon cannot possibly be of their own devising...not unless they somehow recovered remnants of technology from both sides.
A not entirely-implausible idea. Optimus reminded him, Both sides have lost track of a fair amount of their strength over the millennia.
And yet the humans of this galaxy, this Confederation, are under heavy influence from these Genii. Given the developmental state of this offshoot of the species, the idea of nationalism, even when bound together against a common threat like the Wraith, would remain strong. They would not adopt such alien symbols unless there were some other force compelling them to do so. No, more likely their imagery would center around the human form, not a mix of two emblems from an unknown race.
So you think there might be collaboration? Optimus pressed, his worries growing.
Not between humans and Decepticons...but perhaps between humans and neutrals.
Optimus paused in his own cogitation at Drift's suggestion. The neutral colonies, according to intelligence brought to Earth by Prowl, had almost unanimously closed their borders as a result of both sides conducting sporadic raids on their Energon stockpiles in an attempt to restock themselves while seeking the Cube. Now, with lines of communication shattered and in disarray all the way from Earth to Cybertron, any contact with the colonies was little more than a pipe dream. Could something have happened there? Could some new order, some third faction perhaps, have formed amidst the dwindling skirmishes between Autobot and Decepticon?
Optimus rolled this possibility about in his mind, struggling to find a way to make it fit what few facts they had. Unfortunately the only answers he could devise were pure speculation. Eventually he gave up and let out a crackle of static over his cabin radio like a sort of electronic sigh, causing the few humans nearby to look up briefly before turning back to their work when nothing else emerged.
There's too little information. We can theorize all we want...but until we know more, all we have is this symbol.
Tell me, Optimus… Drift suddenly asked in the silence that followed, This war has gone on for so long...do you have any idea what peace might look like? For a long time, the two Autobots sat silently, cabs facing out into the camp as they watched the humans who had pledged to fight alongside them continued their own struggles to survive.
No… Optimus finally said, I don't.
Neither do I. Drift answered, But perhaps…
What? the Prime inquired when the azure warrior failed to finish his sentence.
Nothing… he replied, I suppose time will tell… Optimus wanted to ask further, but was wise enough to realize when silence was merited. Time would indeed tell. He just hoped whatever it was it told, it was a better answer to Drift's question than the one he'd given.
-O-
By the time everything was finally in place for the mission to the address detailed in the odd bit of air-mail, John found that despite everything, he had no doubts or questions left about whether he was doing the right thing. If he was worried about anything, it was that he wasn't quite sure why he wasn't worried. Every ounce of his accumulated experience dealing with situations like this one was telling him that he was about to take an enormous risk trusting a body that he knew next to nothing about. To be honest, it wasn't the first time he'd done such a thing; His first brief alliance with Todd had been like that.
The thought of the missing Wraith was like a poke to the ribs of the sleeping dragon of guilt John could feel even now, coiled around his stomach. It squeezed briefly, before he threw his back into another effort to suppress it. He didn't have time to wallow in misery. His team needed him in the present, not the past, however recent. With a creak, the large wooden wagon he'd been riding gently jolted to a stop, followed shortly by the second following it. Not for the first time, he silently reminded himself to thank Teyla and Halling for managing to drum up not one, but two carts; a vital necessity if they were going to be transporting very much cargo.
As he hopped down off the riding board, the horse pulling the medieval-looking conveyance looked back at him and snorted, then turned away as if dismissing him as unimportant. The act left Sheppard feeling somehow snubbed, but he ignored it since Rodney wasn't far off, and scratching himself so furiously he looked like he was trying to rip his loaned outfit off.
"Haven't they ever heard of fabric softener!?" he complained mildly, shifting his efforts from his left hip to his right shoulder.
"You know they render their own soap, right?" John said casually.
"Out of what?! Itching powder? Seriously, this feels like it's a size too small!" the physicist griped. John knew he didn't mean it. Rodney's natural defense to a dire situation was to complain, just like John's was to engage in banter and pester the man because it helped him avoid the stress they felt regarding the monumentally stupid things they so often found themselves doing. In the midst of his efforts, the physicist glanced over to lock eyes with Sheppard.
"No thistle?" he commented. John grinned.
"Nah, the only thing they had like that was this sort of grass that Teyla says they use for treating toothaches. I have a feeling that I'd like to keep feeling my mouth for duration of this."
"Wait, seriously?" Rodney asked, suddenly seeming to forget his discomfort, "Aspirin grass?" John grimaced.
"More like Aspirin chewing tobacco." he clarified, "It turns your teeth green." Rodney frowned, though John couldn't tell if it was with disappointment or disgust. Before the conversation could go further, Cadman, whom John had selected to replace Edgars as his supporting officer for this mission, rounded the cart, looking nervous at being denied her P-90, or any other weapons besides a combat knife and hidden Beretta.
"Do we have a plan once we're there, sir?" she demanded, stopping just short of doing the same antsy dance McKay was already affecting.
"I went through the note with Teyla to double-check." John replied, pulling the document from his belt-pouch, made of the same material as his borrowed pants, which appeared to have been stitched during a time before pockets had become a thing. He waved it, then unfolded and flipped it over to reveal where he'd written her translation on the back.
"We show up, follow the path to the field where they're doing their digging and soil testing. Our contact is supposed to be there."
"No code of recognition?" Cadman pressed, narrowing her eyes.
"It just says that he'll recognize us, and we'll recognize him." John answered. The Sergeant chewed over this information in silence, glaring at the paper, before finally responding.
"Permission to speak freely, sir?" she asked.
"Denied." John said flatly, causing his subordinate's eyes to narrow further. He folded up the letter and stowed it away, shaking his head. "I know this is a questionable decision at best; but hey, if we get captured and survive, you could end up with my job." he stated, his tone sarcastic, but containing a hint of an edge. Fortunately, Cadman appeared to pick up on it and said nothing in response, even when John added in a mutter: "It's not like I'll be keeping it after this anyways…" With that dark comment hanging in the air, the Colonel turned to Rodney, jerking his head in the direction of the DHD.
"Dial us up." he ordered, "We're wasting daylight."
-O-
For his part, Rodney McKay was also far from pleased with his friend's decision. As he stepped through the puddle and out onto the destination planet, he found himself compelled to scratch a fresh itch on his lower back, and once again wished that disguises were unnecessary, or at least ones that required he wear something that had probably been cleaned with a rock and some scented animal fat. He quickly refocused, moving forward and to the side to allow passage for the carts coming behind. In front, three fresh recruits from the ranks of the Alpha Site survivors were holstering their sidearms, having gone ahead to clear the way.
"Well...guess that could've been worse." Rodney said aloud, before realizing he'd said it and cursing himself. At least one of the scouts heard him say it too, because he shot him a dirty look over his shoulder that made the Canadian cringe slightly. After trying his best to shake the sense of impending doom off, McKay looked around at the planet they were now standing on. It was, like most worlds colonized by the Ancients, a startling mirror of the great outdoors in his home country, with lots of pine trees and untouched greenery...except this greenery HAD been touched, and somewhat recently by the looks of it. The Stargate stood in the middle of a field of tall grass, but around its mouth and the DHD, the plant-life had been thoroughly trampled by what had to be a whole lot of booted feet coming and going. As if this weren't proof enough of human habitation, the trail of stomped stalks led off and away, moving in a precise line towards a large clump of trees where three thin wispy trails of smoke rose into the heavens like fuzzy wool strings being dropped from the sky.
"Still might be a trap." grumbled a gruff voice behind Rodney, who flinched, spinning to find Ronon standing behind him in his traveling coat. He grinned at the physicist, who scowled back. They both knew he really hated it when the Satedan snuck up on him, which of course had only ever encouraged him to do it more.
"And you're smiling...why?" he countered, scratching the back of his neck in a brief frenzy, like a rabbit or cat.
"Because it's nice day." Ronon answered, pushing past his physicist friend and out into the greenery, "And it'd be a waste to let worrying too much keep you from enjoying it."
"That's a nice philosophy." McKay muttered, unable to think of anything appropriately biting to shoot back. He was still angry the big oaf had gone and taken this risk without consulting anyone. Generally if someone was going to make an incredibly risky and stupid diplomatic gamble, Rodney would have bet on Sheppard, and the fact that this time it was Ronon just felt...wrong.
"Come on! Let's move up! Make some room!" Sheppard's voice cried out, cutting through the chatter beginning to grow between the various 'grain traders' arriving through the gate and pressing them to get the two carts in a position to take on goods. The Colonel had picked ten extra people in all, including Lieutenant Cadman, who Rodney had been doing his best to keep at arm's length. He just prayed that the woman never got in the same room as Jennifer. He didn't need the two women who knew him better than anyone else joining forces, especially since one had spent several days trapped as a voice in his head. A shudder raced up his spine as he ran to catch up with the former Runner, glancing as casually as he could towards the red-headed woman, who noticed his gaze and winked. Rodney looked away so quickly he worried he might've given himself whiplash.
"Alright! Everyone who signed up to haul crates, you stay here!" John ordered, before thrusting a thumb towards the smoke, "My team will go investigate. If we're not back in twenty minutes, or you start hearing gunfire, you LEAVE. I'm not going to risk any more lives."
Rodney opened his mouth to complain about being excluded from that statement, then thought better of it. Now was not the time. Maybe later, when they were inevitably trapped and surrounded by Genii guards in a cell. Yes, that would be better. He rolled his eyes and moved out of the midst of the group to stand by Ronon, Teyla and John.
"Understood, sir." Cadman replied, giving a light salute that could've easily been mistaken as brushing off some flies. Rodney realized that both officers were acting in a professional manner, yet with a different tone. It took him a second to grasp that they were maintaining the outward illusion of being professional merchants for anyone who might be watching, while elegantly maintaining the chain of command all the while.
"Alright. We'll be back in a few." Sheppard declared, then spun on his heel, waving for the rest of his team to follow. Rodney stood in the middle, between Teyla and Ronon, and told himself it was sound logic. After all, if Genii were going to try and capture them, they'd be after him, for his dearth of scientific wisdom...unless of course they were getting wisdom from another source already, one with red optics and a drive to conquer the known universe. That thought made him shudder. Decepticons were the last thing he wanted to face right now, especially since the few high-caliber weapons that the survivors still had which were used for fighting them had all been left back at camp.
His mind churning with dark possibilities, Rodney found his thoughts drawn back to the address of the planet they now stood on. He was certain he'd seen it before, but for the life of him, he couldn't figure out where. Every time he tried, his memory became an amber haze in which two burly men tried to keep him from going somewhere, at which point he miraculously punched their lights out. It was like trying to recall a dream and being limited to recalling the last thing you'd been doing before waking up. There was no context there; only the two men and an overwhelming feeling of betrayal mixed with animal terror. He shuddered again.
"Are you well, Rodney?" Teyla asked as they reached the edge of the trees, "You keep shivering."
"I'm just...cold." he blurted out, not wanting to let his weakness show. Teyla looked up at the clear blue sky, lit by a sun approaching the afternoon, then back down at him with an expression that said exactly how much she bought his excuse. Fortunately though, he was saved from embarrassment when disaster finally reared it's ugly head.
"Halt!" bellowed a voice from the trees. Instantly, the group came to a stop, hands hovering with the intent of reaching for their weapons, but waiting for further information before making a decision. The source of the call was quickly revealed as two men dressed in a mix of the grey uniforms worn by Genii troops and black combat vests with an added bonus of light-looking purplish-black body armor. Both carried what looked like pump-action drum-fed shotguns on speed-slings made of the same material as their armor, and neither looked like they had any sense of humor whatsoever. Thankfully they weren't aiming their weapons at the group (not yet, anyway), and bore the expressions of men who were just doing their jobs.
"What are you doing here?" asked one of the two, looking them over with a suspicious eye, "This area is being surveyed for settlement and expansion by the Confederation Sub-Council of Agriculture. You're trespassing. Or didn't you see the sign by the Ring of the Ancestors?"
For a long moment, confused silence reigned. Thankfully, before the two soldiers could do anything drastic, Teyla cut in with remarkable smoothness and sincerity.
"Sign? We were told there was grain to be traded for here…" she replied. Instantly the second soldier sighed and looked at his partner.
"It's those damn cabbits." he growled, "I told the chief he should let us set traps!" The first soldier rolled his eyes with a tired expression and relaxed his stance, apparently not noticing when the group did the same.
"Look, Miss…" he said, trailing off and looking like he was expecting a name.
"Tagan." Teyla supplied, using her father's name.
"Tagan." finished the soldier, apparently not aware the name a male one in Athosian, "Look, Miss Tagan, I understand what you might've been told, but there won't be any grain here for months, if at all. The survey is still in progress. If you need to know more, the government hall on Nulesia can supply details. Until then-"
"I'm sorry," Teyla cut in, interrupting the man, "We were told to come here by Natahsii Divala." The words might as well have been a lightning bolt. Both men suddenly snapped to attention, looking nervous.
"A-ah...well that explains it." he stammered. The mention of the admiral's name seemed to have filled him with the kind of worry Rodney saw in some low-ranking soldiers who had been given orders they didn't understand, but had to carry out anyways. From his spot behind Ronon, the physicist watched as the two men looked at each other nervously, then back at the group. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was like watching an Abbot and Costello routine.
That thought resonated through his brain with an uncanny echo. Again, the amber haze rose up, and through it, McKay saw himself punching two faceless men with a strength he shouldn't have possessed. In front of him, in the real world, the taller of the two soldiers shuffled his feet and cleared his throat.
"If you'll just follow me, miss, your contact is this way. You're expected." He shouldered his weapon, using its attached strap to swing it behind him and out of the way, before waving deeper into the woods. For a moment no one moved, leaving the armored man standing looking expectant at Rodney and the rest of his team. This time it was John who broke the silence, leading the way forward.
"Thank you, Mister…" he said, trailing off in the same fashion the soldier had.
"Dibbuk. Corporal Dibbuk." the man offered.
"Well, thank you, Corporal. I'll be sure to mention you to your superiors." Sheppard replied. Rodney noticed that the Colonel didn't say exactly what he planned to say about the man, which kept him nervous. Rodney recognized the tactic because John had used it on him many times, much to his chagrin. A man nervous about his career was less likely to ask questions to endanger it. This was good for the survivors of the Alpha Site at least. Given how much this little secret transfer of goods was circumventing what had to be standard operating procedure, it paid to make sure no one raised any alarms until after they had left, carts and all.
Dibbuk was quick to get out in front of John before he got far, giving him a nervous-but-helpful smile before gesturing for the rest of them to follow. Meanwhile, the man's partner took up the rear, placing himself at the back of the party. Rodney fell into step with Teyla at the center of the moving column as the group wound their way deeper into the forest. All the while, McKay kept an eye trained on their guide's armored back.
"What do you think that is?" he whispered, gesturing as casually as he could at the man's outfit, "It doesn't look like normal Genii gear."
"They're with the Confederation…" Teyla mused quietly, "The Travelers are also part of the Confederation. And we know they are working to build a combined military force..."
Rodney narrowed his eyes at this. In the midst of the chaotic mess that his life had become in these past few days, his efforts to understand the measures the Confederation were taking to fight back the Wraith had been down quite a ways on his list of priorities. Now that he was being treated to a first-hand glimpse of how far the Confederation was going with pursuing its goals, it was enough to give him pause for thought.
Quietly, he scoffed at himself. What did it matter? Body armor wouldn't beat the Wraith, not in a serious fight. Only space-power could do that, and while the vampiric aliens didn't seem to be replenishing their lost vessels, they still had a whole hell of a lot more than the Genii and Travelers ever would. He'd start believing they had a chance when they took down their first Hive Ship, and not before.
McKay's grim thoughts were disrupted when the trees suddenly came to an end, leaving him and his friends standing at the edge of a clearing with eight large tents arranged around a lane of trampled grasses. At first glance, it looked much like any other nomadic settlement, despite the military uniformity of the tents themselves. However the illusion was upset when Rodney spotted the trio of men standing some distance from the camp, using a tripod-mounted device that resembled a surveyor's level. Twenty feet from them, another group of seven men were digging, dressed in grey uniforms with rolled-up sleeves and legs. Also present and impossible to miss were more soldiers, some holding positions at the edge of the clearing, others patrolling in twos and threes. They were all armed, mostly with the same pump-action shotguns as Dibbuk and his partner, but others with small, compact weapons that looked like sub-machine guns. Before McKay could take in anything else, one of the soldiers walking the central lane between the tents turned, spotted them and began to march over at speed. Rodney noticed Ronon tensing in the corner of his vision, and prayed the Satedan wouldn't start anything, and moreover, that there wouldn't be a need for it.
"Corporal!" the man bellowed, his voice serious and disapproving. Rodney didn't need to see Dibbuk wince and stiffen to know the man was his superior. He was tall, with heavily-tanned skin and eyes that said the only reason he wasn't pulling out his gun and shooting them all was that he wanted to make sure Dibbuk understood the reason for his displeasure first. He came to a stop less than a foot from the unfortunate soldier, his weapon pointed at the ground, but gripped in both hands, ready to be snapped up into firing position.
"Would you like to explain to me why you and Sidonius are escorting unauthorized personnel into a restricted site?"
"Sir! They stated they had authorization from Admiral Divala, sir!"
"And did you request written confirmation? For that matter, did you contact me to inform me they had arrived?!" thundered the dark-skinned man, eyes bulging with an almost theatrical anger. Rodney almost winced at Dibbuk's reaction, his obvious realization of his horrendous breach of protocol playing out over his face in a manner similar to a melting glacier; a spectacular, crashing moment of horror and despair as he realized just how deeply he had screwed up.
"Sir, no sir!" he cried, standing to attention as hard as he could, as if it would somehow make up for his failure. The dark-skinned man's eyes narrowed, his voice becoming a hiss.
"I see…" His eyes flicked back and forth between the Corporal and his partner at the back of the line, who was looking just as nervous. "Both of you are on latrine-digging duty for the remainder of our stay here. Meanwhile, I'll discuss your lack of forethought with the Leftenant. You'd best pray to the Ancestors that he's in a forgiving mood. Otherwise he might decide that digging holes is all you're good for. After all, you certainly managed to dig yourself into one with your actions today!"
Rodney had to resist the urge to smirk at the spectacle of the poor man getting chewed out. It was something he'd seen more than once during his time working with the U.S. military, but to see it replicated in an environment so far removed from what he normally associated with the concept was oddly amusing. He didn't have to fight for long though, because once he had finished with berating his subordinate, the dark-skinned man turned to Rodney and his group.
"I assume you have written proof that you are here on the Admiral's authority?" he demanded, extending a hand. John was quick to retrieve the invitation from his belt-pouch, unfolding it so that the signature was evident. He handed it to the grim-faced officer, who examined it cursorily, then passed it back.
"It looks legitimate, but you'll need to run it past the Leftenant. He's in the main tent." he said, his voice less severe, but no less suspicious. Then he turned to Dibbuk, his scowl deepening. "You will escort them to the command tent, then report to me for your reassignment." he growled, before stalking off, circling around towards the men with the tripod. Rodney noticed that they were working more feverishly now, with one scribbling hastily on a clipboard. Had they been watching? Rodney hoped they fared better than the Corporal, who was still standing where he'd been left, a look of misery covering his features.
"Sorry about that." Sheppard said, looking surprisingly apologetic. Dibbuk shook his head.
"Follow me." he said, then began to trudge towards the largest of the tents. The rest of the distance was covered in silence, save for the continuing clanking and shovelling noises coming from the men at work. There were two more guards at the entrance flap, both of whom smirked at Sidonius and Dibbuk, but said nothing as the group entered.
The interior of the cloth-walled building reminded Rodney greatly of the tent they'd had dinner in on their first night back in New Athos, except nowhere near as pretty. There was a carpet covering the grass that reigned freely outside, but unlike the decorative flooring the Athosians enjoyed, this one was pure grey, with a red Genii logo stamped on it. Rodney wondered why so much of the equipment he'd seen was marked with the logo of just one Confederation member. Obviously, the Genii had chief control of the manufacturing capabilities (and probably a whole lot besides), but shouldn't they be encouraging unity through the use of some shared symbol? It seemed odd, and briefly, the physicist wondered if he'd ever find out the answer, or if was doomed to remain a mystery, just like so much that had changed since their return to Pegasus.
At the center of the rectangular space stood a table, collapsible the looks of it, with metal legs and a top supporting a mess of papers, some maps and a cup holding some fancy-looking fountain pens. There were two men behind the table. The first was an extremely tall and thin, clad in a light-gray dress-uniform that made the physicist think darkly of the outfits worn by the Imperial officers in Star Wars, and with a nose that resembled a tomahawk in-flight. The impression was so strong that when he looked up from the assorted documents on the surface beneath him, McKay briefly found himself compelled to duck. The other-
Rodney had never been good with faces. On more than one occasion, he'd called his lab assistants by the wrong names. He'd excused himself on the basis that they were boring, interchangeable, and usually just got in the way, but deep inside he knew better. This face however, stood out like a flaming brand in his memory. In the churning whirlpool of the Canadian physicist's mind, the amber-hued image of himself punching two men with strength he shouldn't have possessed was replaced by a different one; of a man with a golden armband who lived on the run, who had kidnapped Jennifer to help save a girl he barely knew.
He looked different, certainly. There were more scars for one thing, to say nothing of his new mode of dress; his outfit set him apart even from the new, armor-clad warriors outside. It was composed of some kind of black bodysuit whose surface was detailed with human musculature, on top of which a set of asymmetrical armor was layered like exoskeletal protrusions. The costume also included various large pouches, some of which hung across his chest in a bandolier. The whole thing looked lightweight but versatile, offering protection while maintaining agility and flexibility. In short, it was a mirror of the man wearing it.
"Ah, our visitors!" the axe-faced man said, his face all nervous smiles, "I am Leftenant Spectis. This is Operator Kiryk. You have proof of your authorization?"
In the silence that followed, the clatter of the patient and efficient digging work outside contrasted sharply with the turmoil filling Rodney's head.
"It's alright, Leftenant." Kiryk finally said, "I'll vouch for them. For now, I think it'd be good if you left us alone. We have things to discuss."
o
A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long. Honestly I'm not all that pleased with it. The scenes drag on, and there's a lot of 'talking head' moments. That said, I do like writing banter, and FUCKING YAY, big reveal at the end there! I always felt Kiryk, like some other characters, got the short end of the stick from the writers. His character always struck me as ripe for development, much like Ronon, but with his own set of past mistakes and woes.
Regardless, I will be torturing myself and you after this, since my next chapter will focus on Todd. He has a role of his own to play in the story, and it's about time I laid some hints to that end. That said, his parts will be fewer and farther between, since his role is a bit more tangential than say, that of Ratchet's life as a prisoner of Shockwave. Lockdown will get some snippets too, though right now he's more a secondary villain than anything (which isn't to say he won't have his own role. I try not to waste things). Of course I'm just bursting at the seams with ideas, but alas, if I want the results to be good, I have to limit myself. One of the biggest skills a writer can have is picking an idea and sticking with it until it's done. A good way to do this is to take any good ideas that don't fit or which might distract you and save them for a later date, which is what I'm doing. Anywho, read, review, comment and lavish me with praise...or scorn. Whichever. :P