Chapter 38: Astrians

John was in a miserable mood.

Though to be fair, he had been in a miserable mood ever since he had gotten tossed by a dinosaur up against a cliff. Small mercies probably that there hadn't been a cliff to throw him over.

Maybe he would've died then.

Instead, he had to deal with the indignity of crutches for the next two months while his ankle healed back into the semblance of a functioning joint.

It hurt.

And it was probably going to be just the ticket Woolsey needed to get him shipped back to earth for a couple of months. Long enough to kick Alex out and make sure the Trust had what they really wanted. It was probably the plan in the first place.

They should've never been sent to that planet.

The door chimed before sliding open, barely giving John enough time to throw an arm over his eyes before he was blinded.

"Oh, for the love of—" The door slid shut again, but there was no missing the slight lifting of lights in the room. "I told Carson you clearly weren't ready to be out, but was he listening to me? No." The sharp bite to the words was there, but the usual volume was lacking.

"Nice to see you too, Rodney," John mumbled into his arm. Really. It was better this way.

"Yes, and I'm sure you haven't taken any of those pills he gave you either."

Which… no. Not since Teyla had been by the night before. It wasn't like he was going to get up just to grab a glass of water. That was too much work and certainly not worth the pay off.

There was the unmistakable sound of water running and a glass being filled. John had a feeling he wasn't going to get much of an option in this.

"Can you manage sitting up?"

"Why yes Rodney, I'm completely paralyzed and forgot to mention it."

John didn't have to look at Rodney to know he was getting an eyeroll. Squinting his eyes against the light in the room, he gingerly pushed himself up into a sitting position. After careful rearranging that involved moving his leg as little as possible, he was propped up semi-upright. He didn't argue when Rodney gave him the pills and water, and even managed to eat the not-turkey sandwich.

The pills kicked in eventually and well… John wondered why he had waited so long. The stabbing pain dulled down to a low burn and he could probably even make it to the toilet without fear of jarring his leg wrong. And he could string two thoughts together without wanting to poke his eyes out.

That was an adventure for later though.

"So…" John drew the word out, eyeing Rodney warily. There was no datapad in sight, which meant that something was truly bothering Rodney. "What brings you to my humble abode?"

Rodney just fidgeted with his hands, ruffling up and then smoothing out the edge of the bedspread.

He was always chatty until it really mattered.

John was just going to have to wait him out.

The moment stretched on, until Rodney's shoulders visibly slumped. "You shouldn't have done that."

It took a moment to parse through the vague Rodney-speak, but then it clicked. "And let you get tossed?" It had been a split-second decision to push Rodney to the ground. It was no one's fault that his pack had turned into a perfect handle.

"Yes," Rodney hissed, this time looking truly angry. "Don't you see that we're on a knife's edge here? Woolsey's all but guaranteed that he's going to ship you off and you handed him an excuse on a platter."

John grimaced, but only because his thoughts had been following a similar trail. They only had a few days until the Daedalus came and John was going to need a miracle before then. "It wasn't like I chose to become a velociraptor's throw toy."

"That was not a velociraptor. Clearly a descendant of a pterosaur." Rodney jutted his chin out in defiance – as if John was going to argue about naming conventions. "So, now we're in damage control mode and Zelenka is keeping Alex as far out of sight as possible."

Because the only one who would really suffer was Alex. The Trust was out for his blood and the moment he was off the city for good it would be game over.

Kaput.

Nada.

No point in trying.

But if it were all a lost cause, Rodney wouldn't be here. "What do you need me to do?"

Rodney deflated. "Think you can make the trade meeting with the Astrians in two days?"

"Astrians?"

"PDX-3D2. Planet with voodoo medical technology." He waved his fingers, so clearly, he put great stock in their ability to deliver. "Their leader insisted on a summit, here."

John's eyes widened. "And Woolsey approved it?" The last major trade agreement had been conducted at a neutral location – there was a history of too many attempts to take over Atlantis. "Lorne approved it?" He found it hard to believe that his XO would have cleared it.

"Overruled Lorne's objections. Stated," Rodney cleared his throat and put on his best Woolsey imitation, "If Colonel Sheppard is concerned, he is more than welcome to attend the meetings himself."

John slouched down, scowling. Woolsey was well aware that he was on bedrest – and off duty for at least the next week. After that, light duty would be allowed if he could tolerate it. Attending a trade meeting that could very easily turn sour was neither of those things. "Why now?"

"Apparently the Astrians believe that their leaders must meet face to face before new alliances can be struck. Within five rotations of their planet or…" Rodney waved his hands enigmatically. "Bad voodoo mumbo jumbo."

Right. Cultural superstitions. "And Woolsey couldn't go spend an hour on the alpha site?" Because that was the point. Keep people out of Atlantis until they really truly knew their intentions.

"Too near the Daedalus arrival time." Rodney leaned forward and blew out a long breath. "And look, I've just got a bad feeling about this."

"I thought gut feelings were supposed to be my thing," John said, trying to poke a little fun. But he had a bad feeling too. Woolsey was trying to make the same mistakes Elizabeth had – trusting too blindly. But the little bugger had always seemed paranoid. Until now.

"Well, you're clearly down and out of feeling anything right now."

John winced at that, because, yeah, he wasn't going to be feeling up to doing much of anything the next couple of days. And if Rodney wanted him to be functional at a meeting… well, he was probably going to have to start taking Carson's painkillers on a schedule.

John leaned back in his chair, hiding behind his sunglasses and thankful that the conference room didn't actually have any windows. While taking Carson's medications on time helped, there was no forgoing the fact that he had a concussion. By all standards, he should've been off work for at least the rest of the week.

But no. Rodney and his gut feeling.

And well… John couldn't exactly argue.

The meeting was fishy.

Woolsey had always been a strong supporter of the Alpha site. Had recognized that there were benefits to keeping the city secure from outsiders.

But apparently none of that mattered when it was inconvenient.

Rodney fidgeted next to him, angry punches on his data pad the only true sign of how agitated he was.

It was an all-hands meeting – the heads of staff were all present for the inevitable negotiations. The Astrians had something that was interest to the medical teams and Rodney wasn't about to let his teams be cut out of the picture. John just hoped it didn't turn into a pissing match.

He wasn't sure he could take that.

And he didn't miss that their trading partners that had a permanent residence within the city were completely cut out of the negotiations.

Earth humans first, it appeared.

He was rapidly developing a sour feel toward it all as well.

The doors to the conference room swung open and John pushed himself into a more upright position. Tried to look a little more than death warmed over – as Rodney had so kindly put it.

Woolsey and Dr. Madsen entered with a trio of Astrians – a man outfitted in a drab suit-like outfit and two women who looked like they should try masquerading as giants. They made Woolsey look positively tiny.

One of the women – clearly the leader of the trio – bowed her head briefly, before a hint of smile crossed her face. "It is well that we are meeting the great Dr. McKay and his Sheppard."

Only practice kept John from reacting.

The great Dr. McKay? His Sheppard?

"The auspice of today's meeting will no doubt result in great prosperity for both our peoples." She turned back to Woolsey and Dr. Madsen and made a flourishing motion with her hand. "An alliance with this city will only be the first step."

There was a quiet huff from Rodney, but no one seemed to hear it.

Probably for the best.

"Sit, sit," Dr. Madsen waved everyone to a chair, taking the seat as Woolsey's right-hand man. Which was not how the hierarchy was supposed to be. "This is councilwoman Gregoria, her second Loesia, and their warmonger Tulloch."

The man, Tulloch, tried to pull the chair out directly across from John and frowned when it didn't budge.

John just smiled a smile that showed all his teeth. "Sorry, occupied." He was glad he had had Rodney magnetize the chair legs. After all, one of Carson's strict regulations for letting him attend the meeting was keeping his leg elevated. Presumably, someone pulling the chair out from underneath him would contradict that.

"Astrian tradition implies that all meetings be conducted face to face," Gregoria said, turning her brilliant smile on John. "Eye contact is imperative." She kept staring at him, as if that meant something.

John blinked.

Dr. Madsen furiously motioned toward his eyes.

Oh, right. The glasses.

John painted on a smile. "Sorry. Medical necessity."

Dr. Madsen looked furious, but even she plastered on a contrite expression when Gregoria turned back to her. "Colonel Sheppard was injured during a recent excursion. He made a special exception from his recovery to be here today." And didn't she sound like she was spitting nails the entire time.

Also, telling their not yet allies that the military commander was injured was not a wise diplomatic move.

"Oh, well, the Goddess Astra bless you and your offspring."

There was a not quite muffled choke from Rodney, but it seemed Gregoria was intent on just ignoring him.

John shrugged. He wasn't going to rise to that particular bait.

"Perhaps our technology would expedite your healing process," Loesia said, with a surprisingly deep voice. "Our tecnologists have made many advancements following the teachings of the Goddess."

John gave a tight smile once again. "Perhaps." There was no way anyone would test out foreign medial advancements on their highest-ranking officer. It was a great way to get someone killed.

"Yes, I looked over some of the initial reports our people brought back," Dr. Madsen said, once again playing diligent host. "It looked very promising. We have so many issues with our personnel not following appropriate medical recommendations." She sent another piercing look in John's direction, the current source of her ire.

But that was more that Ronon had all but fought to keep her away from his medical treatment.

And with no opening statement or even greeting from Woolsey, the negotiations begun.

"All they want is Lurie?" Rodney hissed as he followed John into the nearest public restroom. "What kind of mad—Lurie isn't even that good!"

John grimaced, but that was more from his leg than anything else. The Astrians were oddly… complacent. They asked for little and promised much in return. Loesia had all but waxed poetic about the miracles they could perform on their people – reattaching torn limbs and sheered organs – while deftly avoiding questions about how exactly this technology worked. Or was even powered.

"And Woolsey's just eating it up."

Madsen was far too eager. Even she, surely, had to understand that these promises sounded too good to be true. That the Astrians had heard rumors about the 'Lanteans and knew just what to offer to get a good trade deal.

No doubt there would be delays and supply issues that would just push the actual trade out further into the future. Just until they got whatever it was that they wanted from Atlantis. Not just Lurie.

John propped his hip against a counter, then dug into his pocket for his pills. Four hours of listening to the representative drone on about the offerings they had was enough to spike his headache. It was getting to time to take it anyway – he had spent the last hour sitting there with his eyes closed, carefully trying not to look like he was nodding off.

"Are we seriously going to let them agree to this?" Rodney demanded.

John shrugged, before throwing back the pills. Dry-swallowing was probably not what Carson had wanted, but he wasn't here to complain. "Seems like a good deal."

Rodney spluttered. "You can't—you're agreeing with them?"

"No… just, we don't have any real reason to stop the trades."

"All of that… that… baloney! That bimbo doesn't even know if they use a crystal power source!"

John patted Rodney on the shoulder. "And we've never played our cards close to the chest." Not that he didn't agree with Rodney's points. Basic information like power source could have been mentioned – even vaguely. And he didn't really like the way their warmonger Tulloch had spent the entire meeting smirking in Rodney's direction with every avoided answer.

Rodney huffed, before giving John a careful once over. "And Carson's voodoo is still working?"

"Been better, been worse." He resituated the crutches under his arms. It had been bordering on humiliating to walk out of that conference room. At least he knew the chair would stay in its place…

"This was pointless." Rodney's shoulders drooped. "Woolsey and Madsen are running the show here. You and I… we're not going to change anything."

John gave him a rueful smile. "Well, gut feeling—"

His radio crackled.

"Colonel Sheppard?" Lorne.

John tapped his radio. "Major?"

"Sir, I hate to interrupt, but we've lost contact with the infirmary."

"You've what?"

"Bravo unit was supposed to report back to me after clearing infirmary. They've been no-contact for the past hour. We were assuming a comms issue, so Dr. Zelenka went to the power relay to see if something had shorted out. Miller's crew went to make manual contact twenty minutes ago, but there has been no response."

"Fuck." Something fishy was going on. "Can't raise the infirmary," he said to Rodney, before tapping his comm again. "Send another team, avoid transporters. Make sure Zelenka has someone with him." Because the last thing they needed was for something – or someone – to take their second-best trouble shooter out of the picture.

"Simmons, Pilkes, and Scalf are with them."

Even better. Alex was with him. That could very easily go either way.

"Right, we're locking this place down. Prepare those you can contact." John didn't even wait for Lorne's response, before switching over to the gate control channel. "Chuck, protocol six, three, five, niner." Internal malicious intent. It would lock down the transporters and require all the bulkhead doors to be manually opened. It wasn't a strict lock down – people could still move around – but it would make it a lot easier to contain anything untoward.

Rodney had already pulled out his data pad and was frantically typing – and simultaneously conversing with Zelenka over his own radio. John nudged him with a crutch, before heading back into the corridor. They needed to get back up to the conference room before it all took effect. It wasn't immediate and would start on the outer reaches of the city, slowly rolling in toward the central tower.

"There's a null zone around the infirmary," Rodney hissed, before shoving his data pad back into his carry case. "We need to get to the control room."

John flipped back to Lorne's private channel. "Null zone around infirmary, hold off on any more teams until we get some eyes down there."

"Yes, sir."

John, on crutches, wasn't quite able to keep up with Rodney. "Go on," he urged. "I'll get there eventually."

Rodney looked resigned for a moment, then took off at a run for the most direct route to the control room.

John blew out a long breath and stared down at his casted leg. "Could sure use that Astrian healing right about now," he mused, then started off at the fastest clip he could manage.

There were few coincidences in life. Sections of the city going offline and a null zone popping up – just while their off-world visitors came was not a coincidence.

"Hands up, Colonel." Tulloch stepped around the corner, an eerily familiar weapon in his hands. A zat. And if he was a betting man, a Trust zat. "I'm sure you can manage to balance on one leg for a little while. You know, you could have saved yourself a lot of trouble just by taking the day off."

John took a careful step backward, until his shoulder was against the wall, then raised his arms and let the crutches drop free. It wasn't like he could fight – and being zatted would cause even more problems.

"Of course, it would have been even more convenient if you just hadn't come back from that dinosaur planet, but then… I suppose this wouldn't feel quite so satisfying." Tulloch approached until the zat was just a few feet away. "I don't suppose you'll tell me where the kid is though, will you?"

John swallowed and kept his face carefully blank. The Trust.

Somehow, they had made it all the way out here.

Tulloch grinned, before tapping on John's forehead. "Didn't think so. That'll be an entertaining hunt. Let's just say… we have a former employer in common." He pulled the collar of his shirt away from his throat, revealing a sickly familiar tattoo. "The kid really deserves my thanks though. Who knew all this existed?"

"So, now what?" John asked, keeping his hands raised, shoulder pressed into the wall for stability.

"Now?" Tulloch grinned. "I shoot you."

"Wai—"

A/N: Well, well, well. Do you think Woolsey and Madsen are in on it? And what exactly is it? Things are heating up here...