New SGA story: Salutation to the Dawn part 3 of 4

[pierson]

oo0oo

Always, there is the work: fascinating, frustrating, fulfilling. It makes his brain bend in directions he would never have suspected possible. Although Radek knows they are the best, the brightest that Earth has to offer-and he has never had a false sense of modesty about his own intellect-he often feels like a Neanderthal compared to the Ancients. He could easily spend a lifetime on just one aspect of their science, but practicality, the need to be proficient in many diverse fields, has made him spread himself thin across many disciplines, just to survive, to help keep Atlantis running, to understand the how and why and what of this wonderful place and all the equipment within it.

His days are filled with practical work wedged in between the never-ending barrage of new and deadly crises, interspersed with supervising others and trying to keep them from accidentally killing either themselves or others. And as he reminds those less in tune with the actual physical aspects of the city, Atlantis is more than ten thousand years old, and that it still works as well as it does is a miracle. Things break down of course, and he repairs them of course; sometimes, they even work just as well as they did before.

They explore slowly, reclaiming the city room by room, finding new labs, new equipment, and that is a pleasure for him, one he shares with Rodney: the joy of discovery, learning how things work. They have never outgrown the child-like question of why?, and it serves them well now. It is the driving force that initially brought them through the event horizon of the Stargate, after all.

His days are filled but his evenings, his nights, are often too lonely, too long. Sometimes he plays chess with Abromowitz or Ljungberg or Ramirez if they ask; for the longest time after Peter's death he felt no desire to do so, but now he begins to feel the stirring of interest again. For that he is grateful--chess has always been a passion. But mostly he stays in the labs far into the night, working on either theoretical work he has set aside for too long, or pet projects of his own that he has no time for during the day.

He is frequently not the only one working so late. Kavanagh, before he left, often remained behind late in the lab and he played classical music; he had an admitted preference for the Brandenburg Concertos and hummed along with them as he worked. Radek much prefers Bach to the American music from the fifties and sixties that he hears when Maupin stays. Sometimes Radek wishes the other man would expand his musical horizons, but it makes Maupin productive so he keeps his opinions to himself. Simpson does not stay as often, nor Kusanagi nor Zheng; the women are infinitely more sensible and have firmer ideas of the proper length of a workday and when they are not in a crisis situation where every moment working can make the difference between survival and a horrifying death, Radek cannot blame them.

Sometimes Rodney stays, tinkering with some bit or another of interesting Ancient tech, and Radek finds the other man’s constant murmuring to himself comforting instead of intrusive. Though they often loudly disagree during the workday Radek does not mind when Rodney stays, if Rodney leaves him in peace to work with the stunner. Rodney is truly as brilliant as he so frequently reminds them, but Radek knows himself the superior engineer. If he needs help he will solicit it, and Rodney has finally accepted that fact though it took Radek and Tsilevich and Stanek bodily removing him from the lab and locking him out, not once but twice, to convince him.

Indeed, Rodney’s presence late at night is often oddly calming; when Radek looks up from his work to rest his eyes he often does so on the broad expanse of Rodney’s back, the breadth of shoulders, the precisely-trimmed hairline that takes an strangely-distracting little curve toward the bottom of his ear. The first time Rodney had caught him watching, he had turned those vibrant blue eyes on him, raising an eyebrow in surprisingly silent inquiry. Though he had most certainly meant nothing by it, Radek had blinked and felt heat crawl up his throat and into his cheeks before turning his attention back to his work. It had not been the last time Rodney caught Radek watching him; Rodney is such a presence that he draws Radek’s attention, like a planet’s gravitational well. Thankfully, Rodney does not seem to mind; he has said on more than one occasion that who or what his staff sleeps with is of no interest to him as long as they do their jobs.

Often, as he staggers down the hallways blurry-eyed from exhaustion and heading for his quarters and too few hours of sleep, he sees Ronon Dex out for a run. Ronon always nods at him, and by the time Radek can raise a hand in greeting he is long past. Radek tries not to remember the sun shining warmly on his skin, his smiling eyes, and sometimes he is successful.

When he does sleep he sometimes dreams of Peter: the warm wetness of his mouth, the way his long legs would close high around Radek’s ribs, the breathy sounds he made as Radek moved within him, or the strength of his hands as they curled around Radek’s hips, holding him steady as Peter filled him with pleasure. When he wakes, alone, hard, his fingers wrap around himself and the release he gains is more sorrow than joy.

And then he rolls out of bed and goes to the shower. He puts his hands against the wall and lets the water run over his bowed head and shoulders, lets the heat bake the thoughts of Peter from his brain. When he steps out and reaches for a towel, cool crisp equations and vivid schematics have crowded the loneliness into the corners of his mind, and he is himself again, ready to work late into the night.

oo0oo

"Radek, don't be stupid. It's a cakewalk."

Radek continues to write, his marker squeaking across the whiteboard. "I do not care for cake," he replies then pauses and reconsiders before smudging out the last bit of his equation, correcting it. Better, yes. He pushes up his glasses on his nose, then continues. He can practically hear Rodney's eye roll from behind him.

"Though normally I wouldn't say this, I know you're not that obtuse," Rodney says, and and no, Radek is not. He's been working with Americans enough years to pick up most of their odd colloquialisms.

"I can send Simpson," Radek replies calmly and takes a step back to study the whiteboard.

"If I had wanted to send Simpson, I'd have told her myself," Rodney says, his tone growing irritated, and the chair squeaks a little as he shifts his weight. Radek braces himself for another poke with one of Rodney's crutches. He'd sworn loudly to take them away and hide them if Rodney did it one more time, leaving him to get about solely by rolling chair. The visual that brings to mind amuses him on a sophomoric level. "I swear to you there are adults on this world, and I swear none of them will have the uncontrollable urge to apply paint and straw and beads to you. Although," his voice slides into a bare hint of malicious glee, "I have to say it was a vast improvement."

"Yes, so very amusing. You are not helping your cause, you know." Radek caps the marker and stands twirling it in his fingers as his eyes trace over the lines of numbers, his mouth tugging down in a frown. He is missing something, and he is not certain what it is. "You really should have fallen on your head. Then your vastly-inflated ego would have broken the fall nicely."

"Your humor slays me with it's sharp cutting edge," Rodney says, and the normal level of venom inexplicably cheers Radek.

He glances over to see Rodney in one rolling chair, his casted left leg on another, crutches close to hand. A huge mug of coffee sits on the workstation next to the computer which busily runs a simulation. The numerous abrasions and lacerations scattered over Rodney's visible skin have finally begun to heal, the fading bruising taking on colors of yellow and green instead of bright red and purple. He looks pale and tired, his usual vitality muted, and Radek knows that Rodney has not been sleeping much. After the incident with the Wraith enzyme he has not been eager to take any medications that might alter his mind--including pain pills. Consequently in the past two weeks he has bounced between flesh-stripping virulence and a disturbing quiet, and while Radek had acted as a buffer to the rest of the department for the first, he has found the second more disturbing. The virulence he understands, but the relative quiet? Not so much. At the moment he's just pleased that Rodney's actually talking with him instead of simply ripping the flesh from his bones. Of course, Rodney wishes something from him, which explains to some degree the talkativeness.

"Seeing you like this does not make me wish to go offworld, Rodney," Radek says. He tucks the marker into the pocket of his long lab coat and goes to get the pot of almost-fresh coffee sitting in the corner of the lab. He refills both their mugs--Rodney's is almost large enough to hold half the pot--then pulls a rolling chair closer and sits. He fishes around in his pockets, through empty peppermint wrappers and hastily-scribbled notes and bits of wire until he finds a couple of wrapped paracetamol he'd gotten from Carson yesterday and had promptly forgotten to take, caught up in the equations on the other side of the whiteboard. He holds them out imperiously to Rodney. "Take these. Just watching you makes me ache, and I am not a martyr, thank you."

For a moment he's not sure if Rodney will take the medication or slap it from his hand; it's even odds on either action. But after long consideration, Rodney reaches out and takes them, popping them through the blister packets and downing them with a drink of coffee. Radek's almost tempted to see if Rodney had palmed them or tucked them in his cheek, but he prides himself on being an intelligent man without a death wish, and so refrains from doing so.

"Listen. I would've gone myself, if that...yeti-thing hadn't decided I'd be the perfect girlfriend for the winter and tried to drag me off," Rodney says sourly. "And before you say it, the Narans have nothing like that running around." Rodney picks up his mug again and takes a sip before his innate honesty makes him add, "That I know of, anyway." His eyes flick over Radek. "You'd fit right in with it, though."

Radek rolls his eyes and ignores the last. "You know that I do not like going offworld."

"No, really? I hadn't noticed. Maybe if you'd told me five hundred and one times instead of five hundred, I might've remembered." Rodney gingerly rubs a hand over his eyes which have bruises ringing them like a mask, then sighs. "The Narans are actually not as stupid as most. They're far more advanced than they appear, and are willing to let us study their shielding tech, all of which is pretty damn rare in Pegasus. Simpson could go, but you're the better engineer and theoreticist. Mostly. I'd trust her analysis, but I'd trust yours more."

Radek blinks, opens his mouth and then closes it, because never in all the years he has known him has Rodney ever given him a direct compliment. It is completely disarming and effective, though he doubts Rodney meant it to be that manipulative. Radek scrubs a hand through his hair and frowns, displeased. "Very well. But if I end up married to something huge and hairy, I shall make the rest of your life more miserable than even you can comprehend."

That actually makes the corner of Rodney's unhappy mouth twitch upward for a second. "I think Ronon might have something to say about that--he's managed to avoid marriage so far, and probably wants to keep his single status."

Radek barely avoids choking on his coffee. "Ronon will be going with me?" He certainly hadn't been expecting that revelation.

Rodney doesn't notice, of course. "He's been to Nara three or four times while he's been with us. They like the wookie, for some inexplicable reason." Radek knows Rodney doesn't mean the insult; his tone is almost fond. "It's a cultured place, friendly, and actually? He's probably more effective as protection than three or four Marines. You'll be safe enough. I mean, I don't worry about myself as much when he's with the team."

Radek is tempted to start looking for a pod under one of the counters or desks, because two separate direct compliments? It is unheard of. "Fine, fine," he says, his hands waving in surrender. "What time shall we leave?"

It is perhaps a measure of Rodney's tiredness and pain that he doesn't crow at getting Radek to do his bidding. ""Be ready in the Gateroom at 0800. That'll put you planetside mid-afternoon. You'll be meeting and working with their Chief Scientist, Kamura. I've already emailed you all the pertinent notes, which you would've noticed if you hadn't been here mangling defenseless equations all evening."

"You were that certain I'd accept?" Radek can't help the sharpness of his voice.

"Shield technology, Radek. They haven't had a culling for three hundred years or more. So yeah, pretty certain you wouldn't be able to resist that. Believe me, I'd go in a minute, but Carson's being a bastard and refuses to let me go offworld until the cast is off. Four more weeks, minimum." He frowns down at his cast, at the little cat in the box that Radek had drawn there before Rodney had been fully awake from his operation, knowing he'd never get a better chance. "But. Upside is that I'll have actual lab time instead of running around all over the Pegasus galaxy trying to avoid becoming the main course for a bunch of Marilyn Manson wannabes and genius-loving yetis. Elizabeth decided to bench the team for the duration. Sheppard's off doing military war game types of things, Teyla's dividing her time between the Athosians and trade missions with Lorne's team, so I thought--and Sheppard agreed--that Ronon might be up for a trip to Nara again. Let them feed him for a while instead of eating us out of house and home. He agreed, so there's your security detail."

Radek doesn't like it, but Rodney is correct--he is the most qualified to examine and study such technology--and they cannot afford to turn down the chance of something that could possibly aid in their defense against the Wraith. He's read Rodney's initial sketchy notes on the Naran shield so he knows he's probably as safe there as on Atlantis, but still, he will never feel the happy excitement of going offworld that so many have. He is far happier and more comfortable surrounded by the familiar, an irony that never fails to amuse him on one level or another. Beyond that there is Ronon to consider; although their paths seldom cross, Radek has for the most part successfully avoided him for months as there is little point in tormenting himself with what he cannot have. He has always remained acutely aware of Ronon, and once or twice he has found Ronon silently watching him at the firing range, disappearing before Radek can say anything. It puzzles him, and although he has always liked figuring out puzzles, his life has been too busy to focus on that particular one. But it looks as if he shall soon have more time than he wishes to consider it--time and too-close proximity.

He pulls off his glasses and rubs at his eyes. "I have already agreed, Rodney. But I'm glad you're concerned for my safety."

Rodney gathers up his crutches and heaves himself up from the rolling chair, sending it skittering off behind him. "Well, yes," he says gruffly. "Under my unceasing care and expert supervision, you've begun to show some promise. I can't have all my hard work go to waste, after all."

"No, of course not, Rodney," Radek says, slipping his glasses back on and pushing them up his nose. He glances at his watch; while he'd been absorbed in work, the evening had crept quietly into night. "Perhaps it would be best if I started packing up what I will need for my analysis and study. Of course you did not think to give me more preparation time."

Rodney snorts. "You'd just have wasted it worrying. This way, you'll spend the time packing and getting ready while you worry. It's much more efficient."

"I cannot thank you enough for thinking of my welfare," Radek says sourly, and that actually makes Rodney grin, if only briefly. Rodney gives him a little wave before hobbling off, exhaustion writ large in every line of his body. Radek shakes his head and swearing under his breath, heads off to Lab Four to pack up tools and equipment. It is a given that he will not sleep the remainder of the night, so he might as well make use of it.

oo0oo

Radek bustles into the Gate Room, wrestling with his heavy backpack; it feels as if it weighs more than he does. He's still damp from his rushed shower; beneath his mission jacket, his blue uniform shirt sticks right between his shoulders and his hair curls wetly at his neck. But he had shaved and tried to comb his hair, thinking that he probably should make some effort at a good first impression. Though he's sure than any impression would be an improvement on the one Rodney probably gave.

He stops next to his other cases, and as he does, he hears a deep, "Wait," and feels his pack shift into the right place with a couple of jerks that nearly pull him off his feet. A hand on his shoulder steadies him, and Radek turns to see Ronon, who nods gravely at him.

"Thank you," Radek murmurs then his attention wanders to the balcony where Colonel Sheppard and Elizabeth stand, watching with identical amused expressions. As always, his heart stutters a little at the sight of Elizabeth, tall and slender and beautiful. He thinks that perhaps he has loved her just a little from the first moment he met her, so determined to see her dream come to fruition and with will enough to make it happen, all cool professionalism contrasted against the spray of freckles over her nose and cheeks that he'd found so charming. But he's quite aware that she will never be more than a wistful fantasy; after two and a half years on Atlantis and a year before that on Earth, he has come to peace with that.

"Dr. Zelenka," she says, her voice carrying easily, "Thank you for going on this mission. I hope that you'll discover something that we can put to good use here."

Sheppard leans against the railing, clasping his hands loosely, his body an oddly-graceful curve. "Don't worry, Dr. Z. Nara is probably safer than Atlantis, and you've got Ronon with you. Piece of cake."

"Again with the cake," Radek says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Nothing wrong with cake," Ronon replies. He picks up four of the heaviest bags as if they weigh nothing, and Radek refuses to be impressed by a simple display of brawn. He almost convinces himself that he has succeeded until he bends to pick up the remaining two and realizes how heavy they are.

"Who has cake?" Rodney's voice is strident as he makes his way into the lower level of the Gate Room, swinging easily on his crutches, shoulders and arms bunching with the effort.

"You missed the going-away party for Dr. Z. Too bad," Sheppard says in a teasing drawl. "Lemon cake, your favorite."

"Ha ha, yes, very funny," Rodney snaps, sending a scowl toward Sheppard. He stops at the base of the staircase to the balcony above then turns his attention to Radek, his chin lifting pugnaciously. "Well, what are you waiting for, hugs and kisses? Go on, do your job. And Ronon, don't lose him. I know he's small and easily misplaced--"

Radek glowers at Rodney, but before he can say anything, Ronon says, "Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on him." Radek half turns to look up at him, and though Ronon's face is solemn, his eyes laugh. Radek's irritation leaves him with a gigantic metaphorical whoosh, leaving him with a feeling of oh, my.

"Take care, gentlemen. Contact us every forty-eight hours unless something unexpected comes up. Dial the Gate," Elizabeth says, and Radek finally looks away from Ronon. His throat feels warm, and he thinks it is most likely red.

The chevrons lock into place and the Gate connects, settling into a peacefully-glimmering event horizon, beautiful. Though Radek knows more about the actual physics of it than almost anyone excluding Rodney perhaps, it is still an awe-inspiring sight, one that he will never find common. Still, he much prefers to study it, not travel through it. But life has proved more often than not that what he wishes has little bearing on what he must do. Apprehension spiders coldly down his spine at the thought of stepping through, of having his very molecules disassembled and shot across the galaxy to a new destination.

"Ready?" Ronon asks, hefting the bags and taking a step toward the event horizon.

"Yes," Radek says, and takes a determined step forward, though he hates, hates--

A moment of cold shivers through his bones, and he steps onto a smooth white stone platform, the sun warm on his face and arms. He blinks up into a turquoise sky with high cirrus clouds whisking over them. A little bit of breeze catches in his hair, slides down his neck, slightly chill but not cold. He can smell something sweet--perhaps the trees that bloom all around them, fluttering shades of white and pink and pale blue. It feels like spring, fresh and crisp.

"Be welcomed to Nara in peace, friends." The voice is male, and Radek focuses on the man who stands at the foot of the ramp leading from the platform. He is of a size with Colonel Sheppard, but slim instead of rangy, and perhaps a handful of years younger than Radek. His hair is long and very black, almost blue in the sun, fluttering in the breeze like his voluminous robes.

"Kamura," Ronon says, and he sounds pleased.

"Ronon Dex, " Kamura says, and his smile grows wider. "It is very good to see you once more. It has been too long."

Ronon strides down the ramp, and Radek follows. When he reaches the base of the ramp, Ronon sets down the cases. Kamura holds his hands out at waist height, and Ronon carefully fits his own hands over them. Closer, Radek can see that Kamura is pleasant to the eye with even, regular features and pale apple-green eyes, startling against his brown skin.

"Brought Dr. Zelenka with me this time," Ronon says, and steps aside, leaving Radek fumbling for something other to say than, "Um, ano."

"Dr. Zelenka," Kamura says warmly, and holds out his hands in greeting as he had for Ronon. Radek sets the bags down and puts his palms to Kamura's. His skin is cool, smooth and uncallused, immaculately manicured, and Radek's are not. For a theoretician, he spends an inordinate amount of time in manual labor, and his hands reflect that. "I am Kamura Sei, Chief Academician. You are Dr. McKay's esteemed colleague, am I correct?"

"I am his colleague, but uncertain of the 'esteemed' part," Radek says with a wry smile.

"I believe that you are far too modest," Kamura replies. "We at the Science Academy were sorry to hear of his accident, but it is to our benefit in that it allows us an opportunity to meet another of Dr. McKay's standing."

Radek wants to laugh, because oh, how Rodney would splutter at hearing such. At his side, Ronon's amusement is almost tangible. Kamura gives his hands a gentle squeeze, then after a short bow he steps away. "Please. You have many heavy cases, which I suspected. Feel free to load them here, and our journey will be much easier." Just off the ramp stands a cart drawn by an animal which looks much like a deer, slim-legged and large-eyed, but with long, curving horns and orange-and-cream fur. It almost looks too delicate to pull all their luggage but Ronon starts loading the cart without hesitation. He takes the cases from Radek who then shrugs out of his backpack with difficulty, heaving a sigh when he no longer has to carry it.

Kamura strokes the neck of the animal, makes a little clucking sound, and they start down the winding stone road that runs toward a town he can see a short distance away, their pace leisurely. The flowering trees run the length of the road, rustling softly in the breeze, and the smell is heavenly. In the far distance he can see the rise of purple-shaded snow-capped mountains stretching along the entire horizon. Birds flutter through the air like bright jewels, and he catches bits of cheerful song. At the sides of the road between the paved surface and the trees, grass stretches out blue-green and flecked with innumerable tiny white flowers. Radek stops for a moment, and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, tipping his face up to the sun. Although he has never been one to love nature, too caught up in space and the stars and the way things work, even he has to admit that this is a beautiful place and perhaps after all it will not be such an imposition to spend time here.

When he opens his eyes he finds both Ronon and Kamura have stopped and watch him with amusement. Kamura says with a smile, "It is the First Season, which has always been my favorite. I am glad your first impression of Kana is a favorable one. All seasons have their beauty, but I am afraid that Fourth Season is not quite so accommodating."

Ronon's mouth quirks in a smile before he says, "C'mon. Later we can go for walks while we're here, if you want."

"I think...that I might like that, yes," Radek says and they proceed to the city, Kamura keeping up an easy conversation which makes the journey pleasant.

The city itself--called Inou--lies behind tall, thick walls of the same white stone as the path, and they enter through a huge iron gate. Within, the city spreads out before them, clean and beautiful. The architecture is minimalistic and graceful, appealing to Radek's engineering sensibilities and there are blooming flowers and trees everywhere. The streets are filled with people, both adults and children--he flinches reflexively at the first sight of the latter, though he's certain these are far better-behaved than the little savages of the place Lieutenant Ford had begun calling 'Planet Kidkill.' As a whole, the Narans are a generally homogenous people with a body type that runs to tall and slim, and they seem to have mostly black hair, with skin in differing shades of brown from pale to very dark. Almost all are clad in the same type of simple, colorful robes that Kamura wears. Radek finds himself acutely aware of the curious gazes that slide over him as he walks, but he is never able to catch anyone staring outright. He's grateful for their politeness, if indeed that is what it is. While he senses no animosity he cannot say he feels comfortable with the attention, and he is not accustomed to the press of so many people. For almost four years now, Radek's world has seldom numbered more than two hundred. As if he senses Radek's discomfort, Ronon's hand comes up to rest on his shoulder and Radek starts a little, because he hadn't realized how close to Ronon he'd drifted. In spite of his homespun and leathers Ronon looks completely at home here, though Radek can see that even comfortable, Ronon's eyes always watch and evaluate no matter how peaceful the Narans seem. The vigilance offers him a measure of relief and he relaxes a little more.

When they enter a section of town that has a wide variety and number of restaurants and food shops filled with the smells of roasting meat and grains and spices, Radek's belly growls, because in his rush he'd forgotten to eat breakfast. He puts a hand to his stomach and hopes that no one heard, though he doubts it, given the level of background noise. Ronon says, "Don't worry. They'll have a lot of food for us when we get to the Great Hall. They like to feed people here. McKay was always happy." Radek nods, and thinks if they have anything there that smells as good as what is here, he will be well-pleased.

They walk for a long time but there are so many things to see that Radek doesn't mind. Just from first impressions, he'd say that the Narans have little technology that they'd be interested in, but Rodney's notes had indicated that they actually did have a fairly high degree of tech, preferring to keep it hidden. Certainly he sees nothing of the sort out in the open; save for the cleanliness and the design sophistication of everything around them, Inou could almost pass as preindustrial. And they are a sophisticated society; Kamura points out libraries and museums and halls of learning, fountains and gardens and monuments and sculpture, points out schools with children playing some sort of game that looks like field hockey.

Finally they reach a plaza with a fountain, evidently their destination. A young boy with a head of bouncy curls runs out of the large building of white stone with verdigris-tiled roof and greets them with a bow. Kamura speaks softly with him, instructions on where to take the cart with all their belongings. For a moment Radek almost reclaims his backpack; he feels somewhat naked and defenseless without his belongings and computer. But then it is too late to take it as the boy leads the deer-antelope away, speaking cheerfully to it.

Two broad steps lead to a deep, shaded, highly-polished wooden veranda that surrounds the building. Sliding wooden panels beautifully painted with long-necked, long-legged birds that make Radek think of cranes in flight, cover the entrance. Kamura pauses at the doorway, and offers them a slight bow. The length of his hair slides over his shoulder, a sleek black waterfall. "Be welcomed to our Great Hall. May your stay be pleasant and fruitful."

"Thank you," Radek says, unsure as to whether he should return the bow but by the time he decides that he should Kamura slides open the doors. Within it is cool and dark compared to the sunniness of the day, lit by pale paper lanterns that give off a diffused glow on the shining wooden floor. Ronon steps in first, alert and vigilant, then Radek follows because Ronon does not seem alarmed. Kamura closes the bright springtime behind the sliding doors, then slips off his sandals, setting them neatly in a line of many, many pairs of similar shoes, and Radek wonders if anyone ever wears home the wrong shoes by mistake. Radek glances at Ronon who crouches to unlace his boots, unconcerned, and so Radek slips off his shoes, wiggling his sock-clad toes on the cool floor. He's glad he managed to put on a pair without holes, which is not always the case. Ronon sets his boots beside Radek's shoes, and they look huge in comparison.

Within it is calm and restful and were Radek not so nervous about meeting the other Narans, he thinks he would like it very much. Kamura leads them through the quiet hallways, and anyone they meet bows respectfully. Radek doesn't think he's ever seen the tops of so many heads before, ever. He hears the soft murmur of voices before Kamura slides open the doors at the end of the hallway and enters, gesturing them forward with another little bow.

The room is large and plain, all polished wood floors and pale walls and sliding screens; one wall seems to be composed mostly of them, all pulled back to reveal a peaceful garden of rustling leaves and stone-ringed ponds, soft-looking green moss and areas of white sand artfully-raked around boulders. Within the room itself are perhaps thirty people in colorful robes, men and women of varying ages, all seated on cushions about low tables circling a central fire pit, which crackles merrily. Many pots are suspended above and all of them smell of spiced tea. The moment Radek steps through the doorway onto the flat, neatly-woven mats that cover most of the floor, he knows that he is the center of attention; he can feel it, almost like a weight. He has taught, he has addressed auditoriums filled with fellow scientists, but he had been on an equal or superior footing in those times and he does not feel quite so confident here as the only Atlantean. He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up on his nose as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other trying not to be so grateful for Ronon's solid presence beside him.

"This is Dr. Zelenka, colleague of Dr. McKay," Kamura says politely, though Radek knows everyone in the room knows who he is and his mission here. "And of course, Specialist Ronon Dex, whom we welcome back once more. Gentlemen, these are members of our highest science academies." Ah, no pressure indeed, Radek thinks before he offers a little bow, though he feels awkward doing it.

Radek curses internally and anxiousness prickles down his spine, sharp and unpleasant. He hadn't come with a prepared speech though he should have expected he'd need one. He draws a deep breath, and smiles, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as he feels and wishes Elizabeth had come with them. "My leader, Dr. Weir, and my fellow scientists appreciate this opportunity to exchange knowledge and technology with the people of Nara. I think we have much to learn from one another and I hope that I may be of service to you in some fashion. I look forward to the opportunity to work with you--it is an honor." As a speech it isn't much, but it seems to please them, and they offer seated bows of their own.

Kamura seats them before one of the low, black-lacquered tables in what appears to be a place of honor; the garden spreads out before him, green and serene. The cushion Radek sits on is thick, covered in vibrant silk and surprisingly comfortable, though he would have prefered a taller table and a chair. It is little different than the time he visited Tokyo, long years ago, and the memory makes him smile for he had loved Japan--such a dynamic mix of modern ideas and traditional sensibilities. He thinks perhaps Nara is not so different. Ronon settles on his left, and Kamura on his right. Kamura begins introductions, and in spite of his excellent memory, Radek quickly loses track of them, noting only that all of them seem to have Sei after their names, which seems a title comparative to their own Doctor.

Attractive young men and women in plain white robes serve them spicy tea from the kettles over the firepit and Radek drinks it from a handle-less cup of celadon green china as thin as a whisper. The conversation is easy, mainly general pleasantries, and Radek responds in kind, beginning to relax a little. They seem vaguely surprised at his politeness, but unlike Rodney, Radek knows how to behave in company. A quick glance at Ronon shows him amused and most likely thinking along the same lines.

Then after what the Narans evidently consider a suitable time of civilized conversation--and somehow, Radek has promised several people time for consults during his time here--comes dinner. The servers bring mulitple courses of colorful food that Radek discovers to his delight are light and delicious. Fish in half a dozen ways, both cooked and raw--Ronon nudges him gently away from the raw and although Radek loves sushi, he knows better than to eat raw meat from another world, no matter how enticingly prepared--pale meats like chicken and pork, soups of broth and noodles and slices of artistically-cut vegetables, platters of roasted vegetables glistening with sauce, flat breads and bowls of steaming grains. He has not seen such a variety and amount of food since before he left Earth, and it's a little overwhelming. Little wonder Rodney had wanted to return. And such wonderful wine, one clear another pale blue and a yet a third garnet-black, enough that eventually Radek must keep declining the offers of the servers who circulate constantly, enough wine that he feels more than slightly buzzed, warm and floating. He finds himself leaning against Ronon's broad arm, rubbing his cheek against the heavy leather of Ronon's coat, and Ronon smiles and gently tips him upright again. His hand is large and warm against Radek's mid-back, and for a second Radek leans into it before he remembers that he should not.

Kamura leans closer. "You are tired, and the wine is strong. Perhaps you would like to go to your room? I would be pleased to accompany you."

Radek blinks. Kamura has a kind smile and a handsome face, and for a moment Radek wonders if this is an advance, but Kamura's hands remain folded in his lap so Radek dismisses the thought as patently ridiculous. "Yes," he says after a moment. "I think perhaps that might be best." He glances out into the garden, and realizes they have been here for hours already; the sky has gone to black with the glimmer of stars above the trees, and the stone lanterns along the garden path shining golden. He had not slept the night before and feels a heavy weariness in bone and muscle. The multiple stresses of going offworld, of meeting new people, of presenting a pleasant, amiable face to strangers, has made him feel even more so. He doesn't think he'll have trouble sleeping in spite of the time differences between here and Atlantis.

Farewells take a few moments--there is much bowing and the giving of compliments, wishes for a restful evening and even more wishes to speak with him later at his convenience. But then Ronon steers him out, one big hand at the small of his back to steady him and they follow Kamura through the hallways once more, stopping only to pick up their shoes and carry them as they go.

Their quarters lie on the other side of the building and are actually a suite arrangement: sitting room in the center, bedrooms off to the sides. Like the rest of the building, it is spare. Atlantis is beautiful with sweeping Art Deco lines and incredible stained glass, but the simplicity of Naran design leads the mind to a calm, peaceful place. Their luggage sits on the other side of the fire pit in a neat pile. Ronon goes through all rooms carefully as Radek and Kamura talk, and if Kamura is offended by this he doesn't show it, merely telling Radek that he'll return tomorrow to guide him to their technological center after breakfast so that he can begin his studies. He'll be working with Jichi Sei, their specialist in shield technology. Ronon finishes his check and comes back in with a nod, satisfied. Kamura bids both of them farewell with a bow, then sweeps out, his robes rustling like leaves in the wind.

After Kamura slides the door closed behind them, Ronon says, "Take the room to the left--it's more secure," then picks up Radek's personal luggage and backpack, ignoring Radek's, "I can get that," striding into the room he's assigned Radek. Radek sighs; like Rodney, Ronon apparently has very selective hearing. He sets his shoes down beside the main door and pads over the woven grass mats to his place. Ronon stands at the corner of his bed, arms folded over his chest, imposing and impossibly handsome, and for a brief second, Radek's heart stutters, but Ronon merely nods toward Radek's luggage. "Go through it. Take everything out, look at it."

Radek rubs at the back of his neck. "Why?"

"They were out of our sight."

"I thought we trusted the Narans," Radek says but he kneels and zips open his duffle anyway; he knows how to chose his fights. Unlike Rodney, he doesn't wear his sidearm; it's in his backpack atop his neatly-folded clothes, and he hands it to Ronon.

"I don't trust anyone," Ronon says simply. Radek can understand that and so he shrugs and removes everything from duffle and backpack, handing the luggage to Ronon for closer examination as he goes through his belongings.

It doesn't take long, and Radek refolds everything neatly and stores his clothing in a dark chest carved with flowers and flying birds. The interior of the chest smells of sun-warmed grass. His computer he puts on a low table, along with all his other materials, checking swiftly through everything for signs of tampering, but finds nothing out of order. As he works, he glances up to see Ronon watching the movements of his hands. If Ronon has any feelings about Radek finding him watching, he gives no sign of them.

"I'll check the other cases. Sleep now, and don't worry. If you need anything--"

"I'll call." He offers Ronon a little smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your care."

The corner of Ronon's mouth curves upward, softening the stern line, then he nods and steps out the door, sliding it closed behind him. Radek sighs and rubs at his forehead, tired. He doesn't think he'll have problems sleeping.

To his relief, the toilet seems completely modern and sits separately from the main bath. The lights, like the ones in the main living quarters and bedroom, are electric, or the Naran equivalent, though they still look like paper lanterns, their light soft and soothing. The main bath has a tub large enough for two people to sit and soak, and beside it, a shower. At the sink, he brushes his teeth, then begins to strip as he walks back into the bedroom. The low bed looks huge compared to his on Atlantis and as he slides in beneath the covers, he thinks soft and oh god, comfortable and finally, more than large enough for two, even if one is tall and broad. The last makes him snort in wry amusement, and he reaches over and turns out the bedside light. It doesn't take him long to slide into sleep, comforted by the thought that Ronon is close by, and won't let any harm come to him.

oo0oo

Part Four