The Better Part of Valour Part 5
Title: The Better Part of Valour Part 5
Author:Louisa
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1
Pairing: Teyla Emmagan/Vala Mal Doran
Summary:
"You realise, of course, that this is all your fault," I pronounce cheerfully.
"I had not realised that I had such control over the actions of others," Teyla murmurs in response. "If that were the case, then this mission might have gone very differently."
Things to do:
One - Break into the inner sanctum of an Amata holy shrine. Preferably without seriously hurting anyone. And without getting hurt ourselves.
Two - Identify which of the possibly numerous Ancient artefacts is the one ticking down to boom o' clock.
Three - Liberate said artefact. (And any other, ahem, 'potentially dangerous devices' that may be positioned conveniently nearby. And that are portable, of course. One must always endeavour to be practical in these situations.)
Four - Get the bomb to the puddlejumper, with all the same caveats as in number one, plus the additional requirement of not accidentally detonating it.
Five - Try to figure out the puddlejumper's controls enough to actually make the thing fly. Fast. And safely, I suppose. But mainly fast.
Six - Get the bomb to a safe distance away from both the town and the chappa'ai, and get rid of it. Carefully. See above re: not blowing ourselves sky high.
Seven - Flee through the chappa'ai.
Eight - Make the whole mess somebody else's problem.
Nine - Mumble mumble, artifact appraisal, mumble mumble, contacts, mumble mumble fence.
Ten - Profit!
Now *that* sounds like a plan with a hat. What could possibly go-
No! Idiot! What was I thinking? For the love of all that's shiny, *never* ask that question. Never! Not even in sarcasm. Not even just in my own head! The universe does not care whether you're being sarcastic when you ask that question.
And then bad things happen.
Very bad things.
Annnnyway.
Moving on.
So, I have a ten-step plan, and I'm currently on step... umm... one.
Hey ho. Best get a wriggle on.
Teyla and I are currently ensconced in a side-passage a little way down from the main entrance to the shrine. I'm using a compact mirror to scope out the target from around the corner, mentally reviewing everything I know about it.
That's rather less than I'd like.
There are two parts to the shrine: a public area and a private area. Any of the Amata -- and even a trusted off-worlder or two -- can wander around the public area to their heart's content. It's encouraged, in fact; all the better to inspire the masses to strive for perfection. As the name suggests, however, the private area is somewhat more restricted. Only the most devout, worthy and/or important (influential, powerful, wealthy, etc.) people are allowed to set foot in its hallowed halls.
According to what McKay and Sheppard told Teyla, the inner sanctum was only barely guarded when they paid their little visit. There were a couple of acolytes stationed in the entryway, but I get the impression that they were mainly for appearances' sake.
That, however, was then.
*Now*, there seems to be a small phalanx of guards on duty, no doubt keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of marauding off-worlders.
Thanks a lot, boys. Thanks for *nothing*.
There's also the matter of physical security. Apparently the place was locked up tight even before the great kerfuffle. No doubt it's like a little fortress right now. The terrible twosome only made it as far as the vestibule before getting themselves carted off to jail.
(I'm still not entirely sure *how* they managed to acquire a blasphemy charge if they never even made it into the inner sanctum. Are the Amata really that touchy about their precious shrine? Maybe McKay went off on one of his tirades; called a high priest a short-sighted idiot or something. I simply must get the full story at some point.)
But yes, that does mean that they didn't actually get a look at the bomb. So, *we* have no idea what it actually looks like. Because this whole mess just wasn't enough of a challenge.
At least we can track the energy signature using the scanner I so thoughtfully packed before leaving our quarters. And I should be able to use my ATA gene to help figure it out.
Anyway, first things first: we still have to get in there.
"I hate to say this," I murmur to Teyla, pulling out my zat gun. (The one I somehow 'forgot' to leave back at the SGC when I took ship for Atlantis. Oops.) "But I think we're going to have to go for the frontal approach. There probably is a back way, somewhere, but I don't think we can afford the time to scope it out."
"I fear that you are right," Teyla says, looking grim. She cocks her head curiously. "What manner of weapon is that?"
"It's called a zat gun. It goes zat and then people fall over." Saying that never gets old. "That is to say, it stuns people," I clarify.
"Useful," she comments, and a certain tension seems to ease a little behind her eyes, which sparkle with lively interest.
For some reason, I feel compelled to add: "I prefer not to injure or kill people if I can avoid it. And these poor bastards are only doing their jobs."
And besides, things tend to go a lot better if they ever catch up with you later on.
She nods to me, the corners of her mouth turning up a little in a slight smile. "A sentiment I share," she says, softly.
There doesn't seem to be anything else to say to that, so I use my mirror take another look at the shrine. Clearing my mind of any and all distractions, I focus my attention on the task at hand.
"Ready?" I ask.
Teyla nods, standing lightly on the balls of her feet, looking like a woman who's ready for anything. I give her a bright smile.
(Because, despite the less than ideal circumstances, despite the fact that lives are riding on our -- on my -- success, I'm actually looking forward to this heist. The thrill of it, even the danger; it's a real adrenaline rush. It's at times like this that I really feel alive. I know I should be scared out of my wits, but even that thought is a dim and distant echo, far away on the horizon. My mind is clear, my will is steady, my senses are heightened and my whole being is focused on my goal.)
(There's nothing in all the worlds quite like this feeling.)
(I wonder if Teyla feels the same?)
I ready the zat gun.
"Stay behind me," I caution her. "Be ready to deal with any guards I miss." Not that I'm going to miss, but it's better to have a fallback. "When we get to the door, watch my back while I work. I'll hand you the zat gun. Hold it like so and press this button here to fire." I demonstrate. "Don't shoot anyone more than once."
"Why is that?"
"Because that'll kill them. One shot equals stunned. Two shots equals dead. Three shots equals gone. Got that?"
"Yes." She looks like she has questions, but she keeps them to herself for now. Smart woman.
"Then let's go."
I'm already moving, taking off at a run, stowing the mirror at the last possible moment before I round the corner and can see the guards for myself. There are times for the subtle approach, for using my feminine wiles to get close and take them by surprise.
This isn't one of them.
This is a time for hitting hard and fast and for not letting *anything* slow us down.
Zat.
The runner drops like a stone. Nice of the Amata to colour-code themselves so neatly.
Zat.
Next, the head guard, also conveniently easy to identify.
Communication and command: always priority targets. If you're dealing with an undisciplined rabble, taking these out can be enough to reduce them to confusion. Unfortunately, the Amata aren't exactly a rabble.
One guard goes for something that looks like a giant horn, probably an alarm of some kind.
I stun him.
The rest charge towards us, presumably seeking to engage us at close range to negate the zat gun's advantage.
Yeah, good luck with that.
I stop, brace and fire, shifting my aim from one to the other with the smoothness of muscle memory. Four guards drop to the ground.
Done.
Giving the area a quick once-over to check if I've missed anyone -- I haven't -- Teyla and I stack the unconscious bodies in a side-passage. I successfully manage to resist the urge to pose them in compromising positions. (And I do like the fact that I don't even have to say anything. She just starts taking care of it.) Once the area is clear, I quickly cross the open area in front of the shrine entrance and race up the short flight of steps to the door, taking them two at a time.
The doors to the public area of the shrine normally stand open, welcoming one and all. They're closed now, of course. Barred and locked.
Not a problem.
"Help me with this," I mutter to Teyla. Between the two of us, we lift the heavy iron bar from its brackets, setting it down to one side. "Here." I hand her the zat and get to work.
Click-click-done.
Child's play, pretty much as expected. These are the doors they generally leave open, after all. The inner sanctum's where the challenge is going to be.
"Let me take that." I retrieve my zat from Teyla. "Open the right-hand door. I'll cover you." I crouch down behind the left-hand door, making sure to keep low. I have my mirror handy, using it to check the shrine interior as she slowly pulls the heavy door open.
Two guards. Two pulses of zat fire. Two unconscious bodies.
Okay, given the doors were barred from the outside, there has to be a back entrance. I strongly doubt those guards would have been happy about being locked in there, otherwise. I mean, they could be that trusting, but I don't think so.
We slip inside the shrine, and I tug the door closed again behind us. (Yes, it may cost us precious seconds on our escape. On the other hand, the sound of that thing creaking open will easily alert us to any unexpected visitors. Cost versus benefit.) Teyla moves the unconscious guards behind a bench, while I quickly check the room.
Large, open plan, with lots of little nooks and plinths and cubbyholes for the artful display of various well-crafted items. (Lots of places to hide.) Scattered benches for people to sit and admire the displays. A clear area in the centre holding a few rows of pews facing a lectern. (Do the Amata have sermons? I really don't know.)
Doors around the edge of the room, all standing open (more displays of craftsmanship visible on the other side), apart from two.
Ah. Unless I miss my guess, here's the back door.
"Cover me," I say, handing Teyla the zat gun.
Again, not exactly a challenge. We still take the same precautions as earlier before cracking it, but the space beyond is unoccupied. Wonder where it leads...
I don't lock it again, but with Teyla's help I drag a bench in front of it, close enough that anyone opening the door from the other side is going to make some noise.
Aha!
And *there* is the door to the inner sanctum. Correction: to the vestibule of the inner sanctum. Apparently it was open earlier. Closed and locked now, of course, but it's not like that's going to stop me.
A *little* bit more of a challenge than the main door and the back door, but not by much.
By now, passing the zat gun back and forth has become something we can do automatically.
The vestibule is unoccupied. (And very pretty. The whole shrine is, actually. I've got to hand it to the Amata. They really have a talent for beauty.)
Time to pass the zat gun again.
Hmm. This door is actually something of a challenge. Similar design to one of the Iatha-Kessman-Ei Inviolate series, circa mark four or so. Not identical, of course, but built along the same lines. Ooh, this takes me back a bit.
(When was the last time I cracked something like an IKE? That would be... the time I acquired that personal gravity shift device on Draconis Four. Lady Keridwen Silverblade's estate. I remember *her* alright. Kind of wish I'd remembered at the time that she ran her own mercenary company, and that they were based out of her estate, but it all worked out fine in the end.)
I start to hum a little under my breath as I feel my way around the tumblers, learning their quirks and responses. This is *fun*.
"Can you open it?" Teyla asks, sounding worried.
And... there we go.
"All done!" I whisper back, holding out my hand for the zat.
"So quickly?"
I shrug. "I'm pretty good at this."
As we both get into position, she turns a calculating gaze my way. "So I am beginning to realise."
The inner sanctum proves to be empty of people, much as I suspected. It is, however, full almost to bursting with *stuff*.
Wow.
I can feel my eyes widen as I take it all in.
"The Amata have collected one or two things over the years, then," I say, faintly.
"It would appear so." Teyla shakes her head. "I suppose we had better get started."
* * * * *
We have to make camp well before nightfall; much earlier than we hoped, but much later than I expected. Alas, there is no convenient little waystation waiting for us this time.
Cue weary sigh.
(I didn't actually expect to find one, not really, but I guess on some level I was kind of hoping. Just a little.)
(You can't blame a girl for hoping.)
Still, we *do* find a river. That's definitely something. Clear river water *definitely* beats stuff from a raintrap; hands down, no contest. (I may not have actually been able to taste the spiders, but I *know* they were in there. It doesn't matter how many meshes and filters you have, the little buggers always find a way.)
And there are fish in the river! Fish that Teyla assures me are edible. After the paste that passes for Tau'ri ration packs, that's certainly something to look forward to.
Our first priority, of course, is dealing with Teyla's injuries.
Actually, no. Technically, our first priority is establishing the campsite, starting the fire and heating some water so we can boil the blood-stained bandages into something approaching sterility. Okay, more like: something not completely plague-ridden. Unfortunately, that's going to have to do.
We still have hydrogen peroxide. And we're more than likely going to reach the chappa'ai tomorrow, aren't we? It's all going to work out fine.
(She's going to be fine.)
But anyway.
After all that, first aid is definitely next on the list.
It's... not a pleasant task.
(I don't want to think about it.)
*Much* more pleasant is the thought of fish grilling over the fire.
Hang on a minute...
"Teyla?"
She looks up from her contemplating the remaining contents of the packs, her eyebrows raised enquiringly.
"Yes?"
"These so-called edible fish you said are in the river..."
"What of them?"
"How do we get them *out* of the river?"
"I was just checking to see if there was anything usable as a line, but it seems that there is not. You will have to tickle them out instead."
I frown.
"Tickle them out? That sounds... faintly perverted." Belatedly, I parse another part of that sentence. "Hey, wait a minute: *I'm* going to perform this potentially depraved act? What happened to 'we?' Or, better yet, 'me'. Referring to you, I mean."
She meets my indignation calmly.
"I am reluctant to risk tearing my wound open again," she says mildly, and I immediately feel like a fool.
"Right. Of course." I give her a sheepish look. I can't believe I actually forgot. "You're going to have to talk me through it, though. I'm not sure I've ever caught a fish in my life."
"It is simple," she says, reassuringly. "A woman as graceful as you should have no trouble picking up the skill."
I preen a little at the compliment. It's true, of course. I *am* pretty physically adept, and I learn fast.
How hard can this really be?
You know, you'd *really* think I'd have learned better by now. Needless to say, the universe -- or a particularly malicious voyeuristic Ascendant? -- was obviously listening in on that particular idle thought.
Needless to say, those words have come back to bite me, and they bit hard.
Luckily, the only real casualty was my dignity.
My poor, battered dignity.
So, it's later now. Time has passed since my ill-thought words were thunk. Er, thought. Events have proceeded. Things have happened. Mistakes have been made.
Teyla is making a valiant effort not to laugh herself sick.
At least, I assume she is, by the fact that she isn't. Isn't laughing, that is.
And I...
I am *sulking*.
I'm sitting as close to the fire as I can get without burning myself, scowling into the flames. They dance merrily in their little pit, crackling to themselves as if they're laughing at some private joke.
I think they're mocking me.
My damp clothes steam lightly in the heat. I shift position a little to try to make sure they dry evenly. And that they don't freeze solid in the places where they're still damp.
Ugh.
"We will never speak of this again," I mutter darkly, resisting the urge to glower in Teyla's direction.
"Speak of what?" she asks, innocently.
Ha.
I'm wise to your shenanigans, Teyla Emmagan.
But I'm also not going to call you on them. Not in this instance.
At least this way, I may be able to preserve the illusion of having some shreds of dignity left.
Oh, well.
The delicious aroma of grilling fish goes some way towards pulling me out of my funk. It smells *divine*. My stomach rumbles.
"Are they ready yet?" I ask, a little more plaintively than I mean to.
Teyla leans over and pokes the fish with a stick.
"Almost," she says cheerfully. "Just another few minutes."
I'll take her word for it. The cooking is her department, along with all the cleaning and the gutting and other messy stuff.
Honestly, it was the least she could do. I caught the damn things after all.
Eventually.
But as soon as that first bite fills my mouth, all that effort and -- let's be honest -- humiliation is worth it; would be worth it a thousand times over.
"Mmmmm," I almost moan.
Teyla smiles around her own mouthful of fish, chewing and swallowing with more delicacy than I think I'm even capable of right now.
"I take it that you approve?"
I nod enthusiastically.
"I think this might just be the best thing I've ever tasted." Even without some kind of marinade, or the simple luxury of butter. It's amazing what a difference desperation makes.
Her smile widens.
"I am glad you like it."
We make short work of dinner, Teyla inhaling hers almost as quickly as I do, which is pretty damn fast. When we're done, we both huddle down into our sleeping bags and scooch in close to the fire. This place gets *cold* at night. I hadn't realised how much of the chill the waystation kept at bay.
I miss that little stone building. I know we only spent one night there, but still. It was cosy. (We kissed there.) I miss it.
"We will need to bank the fire soon," Teyla murmurs, her voice drowsy.
"Must we?" I sigh, snuggling deeper into my not-nearly-thick-enough sleeping bag. "It's so nice."
"If we do not, we risk setting ourselves on fire. Or the flames guttering out. Either would be bad."
"I suppose so." I sigh again, exaggeratedly, struggling to sit upright and free my arms. "Fine. I'll do it."
"I was not suggesting-"
"I'm offering, alright? Anyway, I'm already out in the cold. What do I have to do?"
Teyla frowns, but she gives instructions. It... actually isn't that hard. Anyway, it isn't like I haven't done this before.
Yes, I know I've been making a big fuss about hating the countryside, and that actually camping out in it is a masochist's activity. That's still objectively true, don't get me wrong. But despising something doesn't mean I don't know how to do it.
At least most of it.
At least in theory.
You never know when you might need to build a fire, or set a snare.
I never have caught a fish before, though, and certainly not like that. Not sure I ever want to do that again, honestly, and emphatically not when there might be anyone else around to see.
Still, it *was* tasty.
"I'll take first watch," I say, in a reasonably cheerful tone. "You concentrate on getting some rest."
Silence.
Has she already fallen asleep?
I glance over in her direction, but the light is too dim for me to make out much of anything apart from a vague outline. (Plus my night vision's a little shot from looking into the fire.) In the end, I wriggle over to her.
(Yes, it probably would be easier if I got out of the sleeping bag. Yes, I probably do look rather like a gigantic deformed caterpillar. But, as I've said before, it is bloody cold out here. I am not going to leave the dubious warmth of my snug little cocoon until and unless I have to.)
(So there.)
"Teyla?"
Her eyes are open, but they're glassy, staring blindly into the night. She's shivering; small, jerky tremors wracking her whole body. I press my hand against her forehead. The skin is cold and clammy, which can't possibly be good, but at least she's not running a fever.
Delayed shock, perhaps?
"Teyla," I call again, louder this time.
What can I do? I can't leave her like this. I have to snap her out of it, bring her back from wherever she's gone. Bring her back to the real world.
In the end, there's really only one thing to do.
I kiss her lightly, my lips gentle on hers as I caress her face with my fingertips.
"Teyla," I murmur once more, and maybe the third time's the charm, for she finally starts to respond. Her eyelids flutter rapidly and she kisses me back, reaching up one trembling hand to cover mine, pressing my fingers against her cheek.
"Vala," she breathes into my mouth.
I pull back a little, smiling at the small, disappointed noise she makes in her throat as I look into her eyes. Better. Much better.
She's definitely more with it now, more focused. And the hunger in her eyes suggests she is more than happy to continue this little diversion.
I think I can find it in my heart to indulge her.
Anyway, it's time to balance the scales from last night.
My lips find hers again, but this time I lean into the kiss, gentleness blossoming into ardent passion. I capture her mouth; possessing it, claiming it. Her lips part to allow me to slip my tongue within, encouraging -- demanding -- that I caress and explore, meeting and matching my ardour with her own.
I capture the lower lip between my teeth, nipping gently, delighting in the way she gasps and shivers, kissing away any possible sting. She kisses me back with a fervour that makes me wish that we could follow this thing all the way down, to let the current take us where it will, but we can't.
Not here. Not yet.
But in the meantime...
She's not the only one who can provide motivation.
"What was that?" she asks me later, still a little breathless.
I give her an indulgent smile.
"That was a kiss, Teyla," I say sweetly, parroting her words from last night. "I would've thought you'd recognise one of those."
"Yes, but..." She trails off, combing her fingers through her now somewhat-tousled hair. "There are kisses and then there are *kisses*." She smiles, the expression seeming almost feline on her delicate features. "It appears that you have hidden talents."
I preen a little at the praise.
"Well," I say modestly. "I was a goddess of sacred pleasure and sexual ecstasy for a while. I may have picked up a few tricks along the way."
I start to say something else, but then I see the way her gaze sharpens with interest.
Uh oh.
Good move, Self. Give the mistress of social-fu a reason to start poking at things best left alone.
Sometimes, I almost think I could perhaps, maybe, possibly stand to think a little more before I speak. On occasion. If I had a flaw, maybe that would be it.
(Sometimes it feels like I can talk myself into trouble almost as easily as I can talk myself out of it.)
Teyla gives me a considering look.
"You were a goddess?" she asks.
I laugh lightly.
"Darling, we're all goddesses in our own way." Some of us a little more literally than others. She looks like she's going to speak again, so I continue. "Although there was this one time when I was on a little backwater planet looking for... Well, that doesn't matter. The natives were holding a quaint little Summer festival at the time and they invited me to take part. Very hospitable people, the..." What were they called again? "They were," I say instead.
"Vala," she murmurs.
"Anyway," I carry on regardless. "To cut a long story short, I ended up accidentally activating an artefact they were using as an altar and so they thought this meant I was destined to be their Summer Queen. Easy mistake to make, I suppose. I do look very regal. It's the cheekbones. And the nose. I've always been rather partial to my nose."
Teyla has a small, puzzled frown on her face now, and she's watching me like she's not sure what to make of my sudden verbosity. I give her a rueful smile and keep speaking, letting the words tumble out in a rush and barely pausing to breathe. If she can't get a word in edgewise, she can't ask me any awkward questions.
All I have to do is keep talking until she either gives up or falls asleep. Whichever comes first. (My money's on the latter.)
"I tried to correct their assumption, of course, but I just couldn't seem to get through to them. And they just seemed so *happy* about the whole thing that I couldn't bring myself to spoil their fun. I figured they'd just stick a crown on my head, parade me around for a bit, have me bless some children, maybe officiate a wedding or two, and everyone would eat, drink and be merry." I sigh dramatically. "Of course, they didn't *tell* me the whole point of the Summer Queen was for her to be offered up to the gods as a sacrifice once the celebrations were over. To ensure a good harvest, or some such nonsense." I shake my head sadly. "No wonder they were suffering from a severe shortage of volunteers."
"Vala," she says again. Apparently, she hasn't given up just yet.
"Naturally, I didn't find this out until the following morning. And, alas, I had... indulged... a little during the festivities the night before." I pull a face. "Well, okay. Maybe I'd indulged rather a lot. Wine, dancing, other entertainments... So it took me a little while to figure out that the bathing and the anointing and the fancy clothes weren't just for another party. Fortunately, I've *always* been good at improvising. I-"
"Vala!" This time, she uses her stern voice, and it pretty much stops me in my tracks. I scramble to pick up the thread of my tale; to come with something, anything, so I can just keep talking. But before I can, she asks, in a much gentler tone: "What is wrong?"
I wave a hand.
"Wrong? Why should anything be wrong? Apart from you interrupting my story just as I was getting to the good part, of course."
She leans forward, placing her hand over mine, holding my gaze with her own.
"You do not have to dissemble with me, Vala. If I have upset you in some way, then I apologise." I start to say that she hasn't, of course she hasn't, but it's now her turn to roll over interruptions and just keep speaking. "If you do not wish to speak about it, whatever it is, then simply tell me and I will leave the subject alone. But if you do wish to speak, if you *need* to speak, then know that I am here, and I am more than willing to listen. That is all."
"I-"
She taps her finger lightly on my lips, cutting off whatever it was I had been about to say.
Honestly, I have no idea what was going to emerge from my mouth. It's probably just as well she interrupted me.
"Do not answer right way," she says. "Just breathe for a moment or two. Think it over. I will be right here." She smiles, suddenly. "Although, if you wait too long, I warn you that I may very well fall asleep. For some reason, I seem to be feeling a little tired."
"I can't imagine why that would be," I say dryly. "It's not like you've been exerting yourself, or are walking wounded, or anything like that."
She shrugs.
Now that she's mentioned feeling tired, I'm beginning to realise the extent of my own exhaustion. This does not bode well for my watch.
Maybe talking to Teyla for a little while will help me wake up a little.
And, just like that, I realise I've made my decision.
I look away for a moment, gathering myself, and then turn back to face her.
"I was a Goa'uld host once," I say, simply.
She nods slowly, as if she was expecting something of the sort.
"Please tell me."
And I do.
I tell her about Qetesh, about how the evil sluglet overrode my will and forced me to watch as she committed atrocity after atrocity. I gloss over the details somewhat, hurrying on to the part where a rebel faction of Goa'uld instigated a rebellion against the bitch-queen's rule and took advantage of the confusion to get her out of my head.
Teyla wants to know more about the Tok'ra, so I talk about the strange, consensual 'blendings' formed between this faction of allegedly not-evil Goa'uld symbiotes and their apparently willing human hosts.
(I think the idea horrifies her, just a little, even as it fascinates her.)
(I can understand that.)
I also tell her about the second time the Tok'ra rescued me. The time that Qetesh's former subjects -- her former victims -- managed to get their hands on me and decided to have themselves a little revenge party.
(No matter how hard I tried, there was nothing I could say or do to convince them that I wasn't her, that Qetesh had vacated the premises. And I tried. Oh, I tried and tried.)
(If the Tok'ra hadn't showed up when they did, I don't know what I would have done. I would have done something, I'm sure. Come up with a plan, or scheme; found a way to escape.)
(But I'm very, very glad the Tok'ra were there.)
"It would certainly have been ironic," I say, aiming for wry but ending up more in the vicinity of bitter. "Finally free of Qetesh, only to suffer death by mistaken identity."
(Although, honestly, I'm not sure it would have made a difference if they *had* understood the situation. The people needed closure and Qetesh wasn't there. I was.)
(Logic and catharsis aren't necessarily on speaking terms, after all.)
Teyla reaches out and puts her hand on mine. I search her eyes, ready to pull away at the slightest trace of anything that looks like pity, but all I see is compassion. Maybe even understanding.
Reaching out with her other hand, she smooths back a stray lock of hair from my cheek, then leans forward and touches her forehead to mine, and we just stay like that for a little while. Not speaking, not moving, just sitting there.
Together.
It feels... oddly comfortable.
But I'm a restless soul by nature, and eventually (okay, maybe not *that* eventually) I start noticing little distractions. Small, niggling things like the tickle in my nose that's turning into a full-blown itch, like the way my neck *really* doesn't like this angle.
Like the small rustling noises that might mean the local wildlife are thinking about snagging themselves a midnight snack or two.
I wonder if she's fallen asleep.
"You are a strong woman, Vala Mal Doran, and a good woman. Never doubt that." (I absolutely do not jump as she speaks unexpectedly. No way, no how. Vala Mal Doran does *not* jump.) "I grieve that this befell you, but I rejoice that you have come through the experience as the person that you are. Thank you for sharing this chapter of your story with me."
"Umm..." I almost say 'you're welcome,' but that would be ridiculous. What exactly are you supposed to say in this kind of situation? "Thank you for listening."
She sits back and inclines her head to me.
"I hope that it was helpful."
I think about that for a moment, somewhat startled to realise that maybe I actually do feel a little... lighter.
"You know," I say slowly. "I think it actually was."
I mean, it isn't like I haven't told other people, like my team-mates (friends) in SG-1. Hell, most of those have actually *been* hosts at one time or another, and all of them have known people that it happened to. They could understand what it was like in a way that most people simply can't.
And yet, something about Teyla's simple acceptance seems to ease a tension I hadn't even realised was there.
At least for now. I mean, I'm not so starry-eyed that I think one little chat is going to magically solve any hypothetical issues that may theoretically be left over from Qetesh's tenancy in my head.
But for now, it really does help.
(I almost start to wonder if there are other things I could speak of with Teyla. Things like Adria, and the Ori, and that whole nightmarish mess.)
(Almost.)
(Not yet, though. Too soon.)
Anyway, enough of this touchy-feely crap. That blow to the head must be affecting me more than I thought. Not to mention all the stress and exhaustion.
This has been a very trying couple of days.
I take a deep breath and sit up straight.
"Right, young lady," I say sternly. "Storytime is officially over. It's time for you to get some rest. Come on, chop chop."
Teyla takes the sudden change of tone in her stride, looking distinctly amused.
"Do I not even get a goodnight kiss?"
I can't help laughing at that. How did I ever think she might be humourless?
"Well, since you ask so nicely..."
Obliging her isn't exactly a hardship.
Compared to earlier, the kiss is sedate, almost chaste. A gentle brush of my lips on hers.
Okay, maybe not that sedate. Or chaste.
Either way, she seems to appreciate it.
"Goodnight, Teyla," I say, smiling. "Pleasant dreams."
"Goodnight," she replies, and I flatter myself she sounds just the slightest bit breathless. "Do not forget to wake me when it is my turn to watch."
"I won't." Well, I won't forget. I might choose not to wake her, but that's a whole different matter. We'll see what her condition is at the time. And how sleepy I am. "Now go to sleep."
* * * * *
"So. The bomb would be the decorative silver pyramid with the ominously blinking lights, yes?"
(Actually the light display is quite pretty, making the thing look more like an ornament than a bomb. Maybe the Ancients liked even their weapons to be decorative. Or maybe this was supposed to pass as a mere harmless trinket until it was triggered. Hmm. Sneaky.)
"That seems most likely," Teyla agrees. And, as far as I can tell, the energy reading from the scanner in my hand side with her. "Unless you think there two active devices here," she adds.
"Don't," I say, shuddering a little at the thought. "Although, maybe we should take just take everything in this display cabinet? Just to be on the safe side."
Teyla gives me a sidelong glance. "We cannot carry all of them," she points out.
"I know, but..." I sigh. "Give me a moment."
I let my eyes drift half-closed, reaching out with my mind in a way that feels so instinctive that it sometimes comes as a shock to realise that I wasn't born with it.
It turns out that using my shiny new ATA gene is not dissimilar to using whatever it was that the Goa'uld left behind, so many of the techniques I've practiced for using and analysing Goa'uld devices also apply to Ancient ones.
(So, thank you, Qetesh.)
(You bitch.)
(Actually, the ATA gene and the Goa'uld stuff seem to interact in a sort of symbiotic manner. A few glitches here and there, but nothing I can't figure out. Nothing that should have stopped me receiving the treatment, whatever Sam thought. Anyway, people with naturally occurring Ancient genes have become hosts, and *they* didn't explode.)
(At least, I haven't heard if they did.)
(A thought which was less than comforting when I had it shortly *after* injecting myself.)
I lightly brush my senses over all the devices in the same case as the pyramid.
(Maybe I should get that nice Dr Biro to run a few tests. Discreetly. I do not want to have to explain to Elizabeth how I talked one of her staff into letting me acquire the treatment after being explicitly denied it at the SGC.)
(Permission, forgiveness... It's a theme of my life.)
"Nothing else is active," I inform Teyla. "That's our bomb."
"Can you get it out of there?" she asks, eyeing the lock dubiously.
"Of course," I say, my tone gently chiding. Did she not see me get through that door like a hot knife through butter? "Just give me some room to work, and watch my back."
I examine the lock. Hmm. Okay, this is a tough one. Fortunately, I am Vala Mal Doran, Scourge of Locks! And I can not only defeat it, I can do so with *style*.
First things first... No obvious traps. Ooh, there's an unobvious trap, though. Spring-needle, probably hollow. Loaded with poison? Sedative? From what I've seen of the Amata, the latter seems more probable. If it's even loaded at all. This is pre-culling, likely. Maybe they don't even know about it. Of course, that also means it may be full of poison after all.
Maybe it's dried up or gone off over time?
Not that it matters. It isn't like *I'm* going to come a cropper, after all.
"Needle trap," I inform Teyla. "Clever one, too." Okay, more sneaky than clever, but I don't think she's going to know that.
"Is it a problem?"
"Nope. Already disarmed." I frown. "The tumblers are a little stiff, though. I guess this one hasn't been opened for a while. Luckily, I have oil." Bracing my picks one-handed, I reach into my belt pouch for the tiny can, carefully dribbling a few drops of the thick, dark liquid where the mechanism seems the stiffest. Wouldn't want to overdo it. "This stuff is made on an out of the way planet in the Milky Way," I comment. "It's self-spreading and extremely concentrated, so little goes a long way." I seal the canister and return it to my pouch.
"Self-spreading?" Teyla asks, sounding interested.
"Something to do with surface tension and electrostatic forces, I think. Science-y stuff."
I have to admit, I don't really care how it works, only that it does. And it seems to be working just fine. The recalcitrant tumblers start to move a little more freely, letting me manipulate them just *so*. Just a little more, and...
"It's open," I say, a little unnecessarily as the door to the case now swings open.
"Could there be more traps within the case?"
I'm searching for them even before Teyla draws breath to ask the question. A set up like this, it's only sensible to check before picking anything up.
(Not that I've ever found a temple *quite* so full of such elaborate counter-intrusion methods as the ones in those... Montana Jones? films that Jack made us watch on one team movie night. I remember that Daniel turned such an *interesting* shade of red at certain parts. And he exclaimed a great deal. I found his reactions almost more entertaining than the films themselves. I suspect that may have been one reason for Jack's choice.)
"There's a pressure plate, but it's not actually connected to anything." Something else that's simply been 'collected' by the Amata? "It's safe." I think about what I've just said, and then amend it to: "Well, as safe as picking up a live bomb can ever be."
"Do you think you could de-activate it?"
"Maybe? Not with anything like one hundred per cent confidence. I'd rather just get it out of here. If it seems like it's about to blow up in our faces, I can try it then." I smile a little grimly. "Nothing to lose at that point."
Teyla also looks grim. "Agreed."
I swallow hard, really not wanting to say what I'm about to say.
"I'll carry the bomb. You take the zat."
She cocks her head. "Are you sure? You are familiar with the zat and I am not."
"But I'm the only one who has a chance of shutting down the bomb if it goes critical. And I think that would be easier if I'm actually in contact with it."
Damn my sense of... whatever the hell this is.
Oh, well. If it does go up, at least it'll be quick. Before I can change my mind, I reach out and (carefully!) pick up the bomb.
It... does not go boom. Yet.
So far, so good.
"Okay, let's get out of here."
"Main entrance or back way?"
I think for a moment, running through the map I've been putting together in my head since we first got to this city. Possible routes to the puddlejumper from here, chances of encountering guards...
"The back way. Assuming that I'm right about where it leads" -- and I am assuming that, because I *am* right -- "it should be slightly quicker. Less busy, too."
"Then let us be on our way."
"You don't have to tell me twice!"
The journey to the puddlejumper is a mad dash, the details of which mostly escape me because gods above and below I'm holding a 'city killer' *bomb* in my hands.
That... kind of takes up a lot of my attention, to be honest. I have enough spare to get us to the jumper, and to keep half an ear out for company. That's it.
Teyla has to zat a person or two along the way. It happens. She picks up the weapon pretty easily, actually. It strikes me all of a sudden that I could do a lot worse than her as a partner in crime. No, heroism. We are officially being big damn heroes right here.
If this does turn out to be how I meet my end, I really want everyone to know that Vala Mal Doran went out as a *hero*.
Damnit.
Anyway, Teyla and I work together pretty well. Who would've thought?
We reach the jumper, which opens welcomingly for us as we pound towards it. (Well, I *was* thinking something along the lines of 'openopenopenopendamnyou*open*' as soon as we got close.) It closes behind us with just as much alacrity. I carefully sit myself in the pilot's seat and, umm...
"What should I do with this?" I ask, hating the forlorn note in my voice.
My earlier point still applies, but I don't think I can hold onto the bomb *and* pilot the jumper at the same time.
"Give it to me." Teyla sits and holds out her hands. Carefully -- very carefully -- I pass it over to her. I think we both hold our breaths.
No boom this time either.
Everything's turning up Vala.
Okay, let's get this show on the road.
I take a moment to collect my thoughts. (And to figure out the controls of this thing. It's just a ship, right? How hard can it be? I've been able to fly pretty much anything I've put my mind to for a long time, now. Maybe even since before Qetesh.)
"Is there a problem?"
Teyla's composure is perhaps just a hair less perfect than I've been used to, but then she does have a bomb in her lap. I think I'll let her off just this once.
"No problem," I answer cheerfully. "Just refreshing my memory regarding how to fly this thing."
(And by 'refreshing my memory' I mean 'pretty much learning from scratch.')
(But it's not a problem. I can do this. I can do this.)
The puddlejumper takes off smoothly.
Hey, I *can* do this!
I knew I could.
"Where to?" I ask my passenger, who's eyeing the cargo worriedly.
"What? Oh, head to the northwest. That will take us away from the city, the farmland and the stargate. There is no danger of us running into another settlement -- there are none in this part of the continent."
"Okay..." With a little bit of trial and error, I manage to figure out a route and... off we go!
Huzzah!
Hey, these things can move at quite a clip, can't they? And they seem to be pretty manoeuvrable, despite the fact they look a little boxy and barge-like.
I hope the jumper didn't hear that.
Nice jumper, good jumper. Do your best for Captain Vala, alright?
"Ah, Vala?"
Just as I register the traces of panic -- well, very strong concern -- in Teyla's voice, I also notice something else. A little niggling feeling that I *thought* was coming from the jumper, but is actually coming from...
Oh, hell.
I turn to look at the bomb, which is now glowing even *more* ominously, the pretty colours pulsing in a regular pattern.
'Down!' I think, frantically. We start to descend.
"The countdown just kicked up a notch or two," I tell Teyla. "I'm setting us down in a clearing. Dump the bomb out -- gently! -- and I'll try to get us out of the blast radius. Ready?"
She gets to her feet, carefully making her way over to the hatch. "Ready," she confirms, only looking a little grey around the edges.
The hatch is opening even before we've fully touched down, Teyla leaning out as soon as the gap is wide enough for her to fit.
A tense moment passes, then: "Go!"
She doesn't need to tell me twice.
The puddlejumper shoots off like a rocket, zooming away in response to my frantic mental commands to 'getusoutofhererightnownow*now*damnit!'
I'm listening out for the explosion, but it doesn't come, and I'm starting to think that we're going to be okay, that we're going to make it to safety, and maybe the bomb isn't even *going* to explode, and won't we all feel very silly *then* and we'll just-
BOOM!
* * * * *
"How much longer?" I wonder, squinting against the sun as I search the horizon for a familiar circular shape. If we're where I think we are, it should be coming into view shortly. Maybe when we get to the top of this hill.
"Five minutes less than when you last asked," Teyla murmurs. When I narrow my eyes at her, she adds: "If we are where I think we are, then we should reach our destination within the next couple of hours."
"Oh. Well, good. And not a moment too soon, if you ask me. Traipsing through the countryside is really *not* my idea of a good time."
"So you have said. Repeatedly."
"Well, it's true." I think about all the things I'm going to do when we get back to Atlantis. "You know, when we get back, I think the first thing I'm going to do is have a nice, hot bath. With bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles."
Mmm, heavenly. I can almost feel it now.
"That does sound pleasant."
I glance over at Teyla, giving her a sultry smile.
"Maybe we could share one."
"Maybe."
Her tone is a little too noncommittal for my liking so I start to marshal my arguments. From the obvious (it would be fun) to the environmental (water conservation is a noble goal) and everything in between. But before I can voice any of them, we crest the gentle but long incline, and I'm distracted by a flare of anticipation as I eagerly look to the horizon once more and see...
Not the chappa'ai.
"What?!"
The word bursts from my lips unbidden, shock stopping me dead in my tracks as my eyes are drawn to the unexpected yet familiar shapes of buildings silhouetted against the distant skyline.
A settlement.
No, *the* settlement. The one I thought was far, far behind us by now. The one I told Teyla it would be ridiculously bad idea to head for, given the circumstances under which we left it.
The one that apparently was our destination all along.
Why, that sneaky little...
Who does she think she is? Me?
I turn to Teyla, who has apparently been waiting patiently for me to process this little surprise, letting her see the fury in my eyes. She meets it with placid equanimity.
"You *lied* to me!" I accuse.
"I did not," she says, brazen hussy that she is.
"You *said* were going to the chappa'ai! Does that look like the chappa'ai to you?" I jab my finger in the direction of the town. "No, it bloody well does not! Ergo, you lied."
I cross my arms, daring her to try to wriggle out of that one.
"I never said we were going to the stargate."
I open my mouth to angrily refute that ridiculous claim, then almost choke as I realise that I can't. She talked about our destination a lot, but she never actually said what that destination was. Not specifically. I just... assumed.
"You *implied* that's where we were going," I say, trying not to sound as though the wind has been taken out of my sails somewhat. "You knew that's what I thought, and you sure as hell didn't correct me."
She shrugs. "True," she agrees, and then she even has the nerve to smile a little. "I did tell you that you make too many assumptions."
For once in my life, I find myself utterly lost for words. Fighting the urge to cross the short distance between us and shake the smug out of her (or kiss her silly; one of the two), I make a valiant effort to claw back my composure.
"Why didn't you *tell* me?" I all-but growl. "You didn't have to deceive me. I'm a reasonable woman; we could have discussed this."
"We did discuss it. And-"
"Barely," I mutter.
"And you were quite firm in your opinion," she continues, as if I'd never said a word. "Even if I had been able to convince you -- which was by no means a certainty -- it would have taken a great deal of our precious time." She shrugs. "In this instance, I judged it easier by far to ask for forgiveness rather than permission."
I'm a little horrified to hear myself let out a rather unladylike noise, somewhere between a snort and a splutter. It's *her* fault. This is what she's reduced me to!
"But you complained about McKay and Sheppard doing that exact same thing!" I point out. "Doesn't that just makes you a great big hypocrite? How can you even stand there and say that with a straight face?"
"I have worked alongside the Lanteans for some time now. It is possible that I may be starting to pick up some of their bad habits." She sighs, sounding not at all sincere. "It is a concern."
"Ha! Like you really care." Weirdly, maintaining a suitably disapproving demeanour is actually proving much harder than I'd like. There is a part of me -- a small part, but not an insignificant one -- that can't help admiring her audacity. Curse my treacherous heart! "Are you even going to apologise?"
She considers for a moment.
"I am sorry if you are upset by my actions."
For a moment, twin urges to sulk and to smile do battle within me.
Oh, what the hell?
I stalk angrily towards her, then lean in and kiss her hard on the lips.
"Call that an apology?" I murmur, smirking. "You're going to have to do *much* better than that if you ever want me to forgive you."
She kisses me back.
"I will try harder then," she replies, solemnly. "Although I suggest it would be better to wait until we have reached the settlement."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road!"
"Agreed."
With the town in sight, we manage to maintain a relatively brisk pace the rest of the way. It probably helps that it's mostly downhill.
The town gates are guarded, of course. I don't think there are more guards than usual, but I'm not a hundred per cent sure. In any event, they seem to be ready for our approach -- or just on alert generally -- because one of the runners dashes off into the town as soon as we come into view. Some of the guards march out to meet us, approaching cautiously with weapons at the ready.
I resist the urge to say 'I told you so.'
"Let me handle this," Teyla mutters to me.
"Be my guest."
As the guards start to surround us, she steps forward, smiling broadly, and starts to speak.
Author:Louisa
Rating: PG
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis/Stargate SG1
Pairing: Teyla Emmagan/Vala Mal Doran
Summary:
"You realise, of course, that this is all your fault," I pronounce cheerfully.
"I had not realised that I had such control over the actions of others," Teyla murmurs in response. "If that were the case, then this mission might have gone very differently."
Things to do:
One - Break into the inner sanctum of an Amata holy shrine. Preferably without seriously hurting anyone. And without getting hurt ourselves.
Two - Identify which of the possibly numerous Ancient artefacts is the one ticking down to boom o' clock.
Three - Liberate said artefact. (And any other, ahem, 'potentially dangerous devices' that may be positioned conveniently nearby. And that are portable, of course. One must always endeavour to be practical in these situations.)
Four - Get the bomb to the puddlejumper, with all the same caveats as in number one, plus the additional requirement of not accidentally detonating it.
Five - Try to figure out the puddlejumper's controls enough to actually make the thing fly. Fast. And safely, I suppose. But mainly fast.
Six - Get the bomb to a safe distance away from both the town and the chappa'ai, and get rid of it. Carefully. See above re: not blowing ourselves sky high.
Seven - Flee through the chappa'ai.
Eight - Make the whole mess somebody else's problem.
Nine - Mumble mumble, artifact appraisal, mumble mumble, contacts, mumble mumble fence.
Ten - Profit!
Now *that* sounds like a plan with a hat. What could possibly go-
No! Idiot! What was I thinking? For the love of all that's shiny, *never* ask that question. Never! Not even in sarcasm. Not even just in my own head! The universe does not care whether you're being sarcastic when you ask that question.
And then bad things happen.
Very bad things.
Annnnyway.
Moving on.
So, I have a ten-step plan, and I'm currently on step... umm... one.
Hey ho. Best get a wriggle on.
Teyla and I are currently ensconced in a side-passage a little way down from the main entrance to the shrine. I'm using a compact mirror to scope out the target from around the corner, mentally reviewing everything I know about it.
That's rather less than I'd like.
There are two parts to the shrine: a public area and a private area. Any of the Amata -- and even a trusted off-worlder or two -- can wander around the public area to their heart's content. It's encouraged, in fact; all the better to inspire the masses to strive for perfection. As the name suggests, however, the private area is somewhat more restricted. Only the most devout, worthy and/or important (influential, powerful, wealthy, etc.) people are allowed to set foot in its hallowed halls.
According to what McKay and Sheppard told Teyla, the inner sanctum was only barely guarded when they paid their little visit. There were a couple of acolytes stationed in the entryway, but I get the impression that they were mainly for appearances' sake.
That, however, was then.
*Now*, there seems to be a small phalanx of guards on duty, no doubt keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of marauding off-worlders.
Thanks a lot, boys. Thanks for *nothing*.
There's also the matter of physical security. Apparently the place was locked up tight even before the great kerfuffle. No doubt it's like a little fortress right now. The terrible twosome only made it as far as the vestibule before getting themselves carted off to jail.
(I'm still not entirely sure *how* they managed to acquire a blasphemy charge if they never even made it into the inner sanctum. Are the Amata really that touchy about their precious shrine? Maybe McKay went off on one of his tirades; called a high priest a short-sighted idiot or something. I simply must get the full story at some point.)
But yes, that does mean that they didn't actually get a look at the bomb. So, *we* have no idea what it actually looks like. Because this whole mess just wasn't enough of a challenge.
At least we can track the energy signature using the scanner I so thoughtfully packed before leaving our quarters. And I should be able to use my ATA gene to help figure it out.
Anyway, first things first: we still have to get in there.
"I hate to say this," I murmur to Teyla, pulling out my zat gun. (The one I somehow 'forgot' to leave back at the SGC when I took ship for Atlantis. Oops.) "But I think we're going to have to go for the frontal approach. There probably is a back way, somewhere, but I don't think we can afford the time to scope it out."
"I fear that you are right," Teyla says, looking grim. She cocks her head curiously. "What manner of weapon is that?"
"It's called a zat gun. It goes zat and then people fall over." Saying that never gets old. "That is to say, it stuns people," I clarify.
"Useful," she comments, and a certain tension seems to ease a little behind her eyes, which sparkle with lively interest.
For some reason, I feel compelled to add: "I prefer not to injure or kill people if I can avoid it. And these poor bastards are only doing their jobs."
And besides, things tend to go a lot better if they ever catch up with you later on.
She nods to me, the corners of her mouth turning up a little in a slight smile. "A sentiment I share," she says, softly.
There doesn't seem to be anything else to say to that, so I use my mirror take another look at the shrine. Clearing my mind of any and all distractions, I focus my attention on the task at hand.
"Ready?" I ask.
Teyla nods, standing lightly on the balls of her feet, looking like a woman who's ready for anything. I give her a bright smile.
(Because, despite the less than ideal circumstances, despite the fact that lives are riding on our -- on my -- success, I'm actually looking forward to this heist. The thrill of it, even the danger; it's a real adrenaline rush. It's at times like this that I really feel alive. I know I should be scared out of my wits, but even that thought is a dim and distant echo, far away on the horizon. My mind is clear, my will is steady, my senses are heightened and my whole being is focused on my goal.)
(There's nothing in all the worlds quite like this feeling.)
(I wonder if Teyla feels the same?)
I ready the zat gun.
"Stay behind me," I caution her. "Be ready to deal with any guards I miss." Not that I'm going to miss, but it's better to have a fallback. "When we get to the door, watch my back while I work. I'll hand you the zat gun. Hold it like so and press this button here to fire." I demonstrate. "Don't shoot anyone more than once."
"Why is that?"
"Because that'll kill them. One shot equals stunned. Two shots equals dead. Three shots equals gone. Got that?"
"Yes." She looks like she has questions, but she keeps them to herself for now. Smart woman.
"Then let's go."
I'm already moving, taking off at a run, stowing the mirror at the last possible moment before I round the corner and can see the guards for myself. There are times for the subtle approach, for using my feminine wiles to get close and take them by surprise.
This isn't one of them.
This is a time for hitting hard and fast and for not letting *anything* slow us down.
Zat.
The runner drops like a stone. Nice of the Amata to colour-code themselves so neatly.
Zat.
Next, the head guard, also conveniently easy to identify.
Communication and command: always priority targets. If you're dealing with an undisciplined rabble, taking these out can be enough to reduce them to confusion. Unfortunately, the Amata aren't exactly a rabble.
One guard goes for something that looks like a giant horn, probably an alarm of some kind.
I stun him.
The rest charge towards us, presumably seeking to engage us at close range to negate the zat gun's advantage.
Yeah, good luck with that.
I stop, brace and fire, shifting my aim from one to the other with the smoothness of muscle memory. Four guards drop to the ground.
Done.
Giving the area a quick once-over to check if I've missed anyone -- I haven't -- Teyla and I stack the unconscious bodies in a side-passage. I successfully manage to resist the urge to pose them in compromising positions. (And I do like the fact that I don't even have to say anything. She just starts taking care of it.) Once the area is clear, I quickly cross the open area in front of the shrine entrance and race up the short flight of steps to the door, taking them two at a time.
The doors to the public area of the shrine normally stand open, welcoming one and all. They're closed now, of course. Barred and locked.
Not a problem.
"Help me with this," I mutter to Teyla. Between the two of us, we lift the heavy iron bar from its brackets, setting it down to one side. "Here." I hand her the zat and get to work.
Click-click-done.
Child's play, pretty much as expected. These are the doors they generally leave open, after all. The inner sanctum's where the challenge is going to be.
"Let me take that." I retrieve my zat from Teyla. "Open the right-hand door. I'll cover you." I crouch down behind the left-hand door, making sure to keep low. I have my mirror handy, using it to check the shrine interior as she slowly pulls the heavy door open.
Two guards. Two pulses of zat fire. Two unconscious bodies.
Okay, given the doors were barred from the outside, there has to be a back entrance. I strongly doubt those guards would have been happy about being locked in there, otherwise. I mean, they could be that trusting, but I don't think so.
We slip inside the shrine, and I tug the door closed again behind us. (Yes, it may cost us precious seconds on our escape. On the other hand, the sound of that thing creaking open will easily alert us to any unexpected visitors. Cost versus benefit.) Teyla moves the unconscious guards behind a bench, while I quickly check the room.
Large, open plan, with lots of little nooks and plinths and cubbyholes for the artful display of various well-crafted items. (Lots of places to hide.) Scattered benches for people to sit and admire the displays. A clear area in the centre holding a few rows of pews facing a lectern. (Do the Amata have sermons? I really don't know.)
Doors around the edge of the room, all standing open (more displays of craftsmanship visible on the other side), apart from two.
Ah. Unless I miss my guess, here's the back door.
"Cover me," I say, handing Teyla the zat gun.
Again, not exactly a challenge. We still take the same precautions as earlier before cracking it, but the space beyond is unoccupied. Wonder where it leads...
I don't lock it again, but with Teyla's help I drag a bench in front of it, close enough that anyone opening the door from the other side is going to make some noise.
Aha!
And *there* is the door to the inner sanctum. Correction: to the vestibule of the inner sanctum. Apparently it was open earlier. Closed and locked now, of course, but it's not like that's going to stop me.
A *little* bit more of a challenge than the main door and the back door, but not by much.
By now, passing the zat gun back and forth has become something we can do automatically.
The vestibule is unoccupied. (And very pretty. The whole shrine is, actually. I've got to hand it to the Amata. They really have a talent for beauty.)
Time to pass the zat gun again.
Hmm. This door is actually something of a challenge. Similar design to one of the Iatha-Kessman-Ei Inviolate series, circa mark four or so. Not identical, of course, but built along the same lines. Ooh, this takes me back a bit.
(When was the last time I cracked something like an IKE? That would be... the time I acquired that personal gravity shift device on Draconis Four. Lady Keridwen Silverblade's estate. I remember *her* alright. Kind of wish I'd remembered at the time that she ran her own mercenary company, and that they were based out of her estate, but it all worked out fine in the end.)
I start to hum a little under my breath as I feel my way around the tumblers, learning their quirks and responses. This is *fun*.
"Can you open it?" Teyla asks, sounding worried.
And... there we go.
"All done!" I whisper back, holding out my hand for the zat.
"So quickly?"
I shrug. "I'm pretty good at this."
As we both get into position, she turns a calculating gaze my way. "So I am beginning to realise."
The inner sanctum proves to be empty of people, much as I suspected. It is, however, full almost to bursting with *stuff*.
Wow.
I can feel my eyes widen as I take it all in.
"The Amata have collected one or two things over the years, then," I say, faintly.
"It would appear so." Teyla shakes her head. "I suppose we had better get started."
* * * * *
We have to make camp well before nightfall; much earlier than we hoped, but much later than I expected. Alas, there is no convenient little waystation waiting for us this time.
Cue weary sigh.
(I didn't actually expect to find one, not really, but I guess on some level I was kind of hoping. Just a little.)
(You can't blame a girl for hoping.)
Still, we *do* find a river. That's definitely something. Clear river water *definitely* beats stuff from a raintrap; hands down, no contest. (I may not have actually been able to taste the spiders, but I *know* they were in there. It doesn't matter how many meshes and filters you have, the little buggers always find a way.)
And there are fish in the river! Fish that Teyla assures me are edible. After the paste that passes for Tau'ri ration packs, that's certainly something to look forward to.
Our first priority, of course, is dealing with Teyla's injuries.
Actually, no. Technically, our first priority is establishing the campsite, starting the fire and heating some water so we can boil the blood-stained bandages into something approaching sterility. Okay, more like: something not completely plague-ridden. Unfortunately, that's going to have to do.
We still have hydrogen peroxide. And we're more than likely going to reach the chappa'ai tomorrow, aren't we? It's all going to work out fine.
(She's going to be fine.)
But anyway.
After all that, first aid is definitely next on the list.
It's... not a pleasant task.
(I don't want to think about it.)
*Much* more pleasant is the thought of fish grilling over the fire.
Hang on a minute...
"Teyla?"
She looks up from her contemplating the remaining contents of the packs, her eyebrows raised enquiringly.
"Yes?"
"These so-called edible fish you said are in the river..."
"What of them?"
"How do we get them *out* of the river?"
"I was just checking to see if there was anything usable as a line, but it seems that there is not. You will have to tickle them out instead."
I frown.
"Tickle them out? That sounds... faintly perverted." Belatedly, I parse another part of that sentence. "Hey, wait a minute: *I'm* going to perform this potentially depraved act? What happened to 'we?' Or, better yet, 'me'. Referring to you, I mean."
She meets my indignation calmly.
"I am reluctant to risk tearing my wound open again," she says mildly, and I immediately feel like a fool.
"Right. Of course." I give her a sheepish look. I can't believe I actually forgot. "You're going to have to talk me through it, though. I'm not sure I've ever caught a fish in my life."
"It is simple," she says, reassuringly. "A woman as graceful as you should have no trouble picking up the skill."
I preen a little at the compliment. It's true, of course. I *am* pretty physically adept, and I learn fast.
How hard can this really be?
You know, you'd *really* think I'd have learned better by now. Needless to say, the universe -- or a particularly malicious voyeuristic Ascendant? -- was obviously listening in on that particular idle thought.
Needless to say, those words have come back to bite me, and they bit hard.
Luckily, the only real casualty was my dignity.
My poor, battered dignity.
So, it's later now. Time has passed since my ill-thought words were thunk. Er, thought. Events have proceeded. Things have happened. Mistakes have been made.
Teyla is making a valiant effort not to laugh herself sick.
At least, I assume she is, by the fact that she isn't. Isn't laughing, that is.
And I...
I am *sulking*.
I'm sitting as close to the fire as I can get without burning myself, scowling into the flames. They dance merrily in their little pit, crackling to themselves as if they're laughing at some private joke.
I think they're mocking me.
My damp clothes steam lightly in the heat. I shift position a little to try to make sure they dry evenly. And that they don't freeze solid in the places where they're still damp.
Ugh.
"We will never speak of this again," I mutter darkly, resisting the urge to glower in Teyla's direction.
"Speak of what?" she asks, innocently.
Ha.
I'm wise to your shenanigans, Teyla Emmagan.
But I'm also not going to call you on them. Not in this instance.
At least this way, I may be able to preserve the illusion of having some shreds of dignity left.
Oh, well.
The delicious aroma of grilling fish goes some way towards pulling me out of my funk. It smells *divine*. My stomach rumbles.
"Are they ready yet?" I ask, a little more plaintively than I mean to.
Teyla leans over and pokes the fish with a stick.
"Almost," she says cheerfully. "Just another few minutes."
I'll take her word for it. The cooking is her department, along with all the cleaning and the gutting and other messy stuff.
Honestly, it was the least she could do. I caught the damn things after all.
Eventually.
But as soon as that first bite fills my mouth, all that effort and -- let's be honest -- humiliation is worth it; would be worth it a thousand times over.
"Mmmmm," I almost moan.
Teyla smiles around her own mouthful of fish, chewing and swallowing with more delicacy than I think I'm even capable of right now.
"I take it that you approve?"
I nod enthusiastically.
"I think this might just be the best thing I've ever tasted." Even without some kind of marinade, or the simple luxury of butter. It's amazing what a difference desperation makes.
Her smile widens.
"I am glad you like it."
We make short work of dinner, Teyla inhaling hers almost as quickly as I do, which is pretty damn fast. When we're done, we both huddle down into our sleeping bags and scooch in close to the fire. This place gets *cold* at night. I hadn't realised how much of the chill the waystation kept at bay.
I miss that little stone building. I know we only spent one night there, but still. It was cosy. (We kissed there.) I miss it.
"We will need to bank the fire soon," Teyla murmurs, her voice drowsy.
"Must we?" I sigh, snuggling deeper into my not-nearly-thick-enough sleeping bag. "It's so nice."
"If we do not, we risk setting ourselves on fire. Or the flames guttering out. Either would be bad."
"I suppose so." I sigh again, exaggeratedly, struggling to sit upright and free my arms. "Fine. I'll do it."
"I was not suggesting-"
"I'm offering, alright? Anyway, I'm already out in the cold. What do I have to do?"
Teyla frowns, but she gives instructions. It... actually isn't that hard. Anyway, it isn't like I haven't done this before.
Yes, I know I've been making a big fuss about hating the countryside, and that actually camping out in it is a masochist's activity. That's still objectively true, don't get me wrong. But despising something doesn't mean I don't know how to do it.
At least most of it.
At least in theory.
You never know when you might need to build a fire, or set a snare.
I never have caught a fish before, though, and certainly not like that. Not sure I ever want to do that again, honestly, and emphatically not when there might be anyone else around to see.
Still, it *was* tasty.
"I'll take first watch," I say, in a reasonably cheerful tone. "You concentrate on getting some rest."
Silence.
Has she already fallen asleep?
I glance over in her direction, but the light is too dim for me to make out much of anything apart from a vague outline. (Plus my night vision's a little shot from looking into the fire.) In the end, I wriggle over to her.
(Yes, it probably would be easier if I got out of the sleeping bag. Yes, I probably do look rather like a gigantic deformed caterpillar. But, as I've said before, it is bloody cold out here. I am not going to leave the dubious warmth of my snug little cocoon until and unless I have to.)
(So there.)
"Teyla?"
Her eyes are open, but they're glassy, staring blindly into the night. She's shivering; small, jerky tremors wracking her whole body. I press my hand against her forehead. The skin is cold and clammy, which can't possibly be good, but at least she's not running a fever.
Delayed shock, perhaps?
"Teyla," I call again, louder this time.
What can I do? I can't leave her like this. I have to snap her out of it, bring her back from wherever she's gone. Bring her back to the real world.
In the end, there's really only one thing to do.
I kiss her lightly, my lips gentle on hers as I caress her face with my fingertips.
"Teyla," I murmur once more, and maybe the third time's the charm, for she finally starts to respond. Her eyelids flutter rapidly and she kisses me back, reaching up one trembling hand to cover mine, pressing my fingers against her cheek.
"Vala," she breathes into my mouth.
I pull back a little, smiling at the small, disappointed noise she makes in her throat as I look into her eyes. Better. Much better.
She's definitely more with it now, more focused. And the hunger in her eyes suggests she is more than happy to continue this little diversion.
I think I can find it in my heart to indulge her.
Anyway, it's time to balance the scales from last night.
My lips find hers again, but this time I lean into the kiss, gentleness blossoming into ardent passion. I capture her mouth; possessing it, claiming it. Her lips part to allow me to slip my tongue within, encouraging -- demanding -- that I caress and explore, meeting and matching my ardour with her own.
I capture the lower lip between my teeth, nipping gently, delighting in the way she gasps and shivers, kissing away any possible sting. She kisses me back with a fervour that makes me wish that we could follow this thing all the way down, to let the current take us where it will, but we can't.
Not here. Not yet.
But in the meantime...
She's not the only one who can provide motivation.
"What was that?" she asks me later, still a little breathless.
I give her an indulgent smile.
"That was a kiss, Teyla," I say sweetly, parroting her words from last night. "I would've thought you'd recognise one of those."
"Yes, but..." She trails off, combing her fingers through her now somewhat-tousled hair. "There are kisses and then there are *kisses*." She smiles, the expression seeming almost feline on her delicate features. "It appears that you have hidden talents."
I preen a little at the praise.
"Well," I say modestly. "I was a goddess of sacred pleasure and sexual ecstasy for a while. I may have picked up a few tricks along the way."
I start to say something else, but then I see the way her gaze sharpens with interest.
Uh oh.
Good move, Self. Give the mistress of social-fu a reason to start poking at things best left alone.
Sometimes, I almost think I could perhaps, maybe, possibly stand to think a little more before I speak. On occasion. If I had a flaw, maybe that would be it.
(Sometimes it feels like I can talk myself into trouble almost as easily as I can talk myself out of it.)
Teyla gives me a considering look.
"You were a goddess?" she asks.
I laugh lightly.
"Darling, we're all goddesses in our own way." Some of us a little more literally than others. She looks like she's going to speak again, so I continue. "Although there was this one time when I was on a little backwater planet looking for... Well, that doesn't matter. The natives were holding a quaint little Summer festival at the time and they invited me to take part. Very hospitable people, the..." What were they called again? "They were," I say instead.
"Vala," she murmurs.
"Anyway," I carry on regardless. "To cut a long story short, I ended up accidentally activating an artefact they were using as an altar and so they thought this meant I was destined to be their Summer Queen. Easy mistake to make, I suppose. I do look very regal. It's the cheekbones. And the nose. I've always been rather partial to my nose."
Teyla has a small, puzzled frown on her face now, and she's watching me like she's not sure what to make of my sudden verbosity. I give her a rueful smile and keep speaking, letting the words tumble out in a rush and barely pausing to breathe. If she can't get a word in edgewise, she can't ask me any awkward questions.
All I have to do is keep talking until she either gives up or falls asleep. Whichever comes first. (My money's on the latter.)
"I tried to correct their assumption, of course, but I just couldn't seem to get through to them. And they just seemed so *happy* about the whole thing that I couldn't bring myself to spoil their fun. I figured they'd just stick a crown on my head, parade me around for a bit, have me bless some children, maybe officiate a wedding or two, and everyone would eat, drink and be merry." I sigh dramatically. "Of course, they didn't *tell* me the whole point of the Summer Queen was for her to be offered up to the gods as a sacrifice once the celebrations were over. To ensure a good harvest, or some such nonsense." I shake my head sadly. "No wonder they were suffering from a severe shortage of volunteers."
"Vala," she says again. Apparently, she hasn't given up just yet.
"Naturally, I didn't find this out until the following morning. And, alas, I had... indulged... a little during the festivities the night before." I pull a face. "Well, okay. Maybe I'd indulged rather a lot. Wine, dancing, other entertainments... So it took me a little while to figure out that the bathing and the anointing and the fancy clothes weren't just for another party. Fortunately, I've *always* been good at improvising. I-"
"Vala!" This time, she uses her stern voice, and it pretty much stops me in my tracks. I scramble to pick up the thread of my tale; to come with something, anything, so I can just keep talking. But before I can, she asks, in a much gentler tone: "What is wrong?"
I wave a hand.
"Wrong? Why should anything be wrong? Apart from you interrupting my story just as I was getting to the good part, of course."
She leans forward, placing her hand over mine, holding my gaze with her own.
"You do not have to dissemble with me, Vala. If I have upset you in some way, then I apologise." I start to say that she hasn't, of course she hasn't, but it's now her turn to roll over interruptions and just keep speaking. "If you do not wish to speak about it, whatever it is, then simply tell me and I will leave the subject alone. But if you do wish to speak, if you *need* to speak, then know that I am here, and I am more than willing to listen. That is all."
"I-"
She taps her finger lightly on my lips, cutting off whatever it was I had been about to say.
Honestly, I have no idea what was going to emerge from my mouth. It's probably just as well she interrupted me.
"Do not answer right way," she says. "Just breathe for a moment or two. Think it over. I will be right here." She smiles, suddenly. "Although, if you wait too long, I warn you that I may very well fall asleep. For some reason, I seem to be feeling a little tired."
"I can't imagine why that would be," I say dryly. "It's not like you've been exerting yourself, or are walking wounded, or anything like that."
She shrugs.
Now that she's mentioned feeling tired, I'm beginning to realise the extent of my own exhaustion. This does not bode well for my watch.
Maybe talking to Teyla for a little while will help me wake up a little.
And, just like that, I realise I've made my decision.
I look away for a moment, gathering myself, and then turn back to face her.
"I was a Goa'uld host once," I say, simply.
She nods slowly, as if she was expecting something of the sort.
"Please tell me."
And I do.
I tell her about Qetesh, about how the evil sluglet overrode my will and forced me to watch as she committed atrocity after atrocity. I gloss over the details somewhat, hurrying on to the part where a rebel faction of Goa'uld instigated a rebellion against the bitch-queen's rule and took advantage of the confusion to get her out of my head.
Teyla wants to know more about the Tok'ra, so I talk about the strange, consensual 'blendings' formed between this faction of allegedly not-evil Goa'uld symbiotes and their apparently willing human hosts.
(I think the idea horrifies her, just a little, even as it fascinates her.)
(I can understand that.)
I also tell her about the second time the Tok'ra rescued me. The time that Qetesh's former subjects -- her former victims -- managed to get their hands on me and decided to have themselves a little revenge party.
(No matter how hard I tried, there was nothing I could say or do to convince them that I wasn't her, that Qetesh had vacated the premises. And I tried. Oh, I tried and tried.)
(If the Tok'ra hadn't showed up when they did, I don't know what I would have done. I would have done something, I'm sure. Come up with a plan, or scheme; found a way to escape.)
(But I'm very, very glad the Tok'ra were there.)
"It would certainly have been ironic," I say, aiming for wry but ending up more in the vicinity of bitter. "Finally free of Qetesh, only to suffer death by mistaken identity."
(Although, honestly, I'm not sure it would have made a difference if they *had* understood the situation. The people needed closure and Qetesh wasn't there. I was.)
(Logic and catharsis aren't necessarily on speaking terms, after all.)
Teyla reaches out and puts her hand on mine. I search her eyes, ready to pull away at the slightest trace of anything that looks like pity, but all I see is compassion. Maybe even understanding.
Reaching out with her other hand, she smooths back a stray lock of hair from my cheek, then leans forward and touches her forehead to mine, and we just stay like that for a little while. Not speaking, not moving, just sitting there.
Together.
It feels... oddly comfortable.
But I'm a restless soul by nature, and eventually (okay, maybe not *that* eventually) I start noticing little distractions. Small, niggling things like the tickle in my nose that's turning into a full-blown itch, like the way my neck *really* doesn't like this angle.
Like the small rustling noises that might mean the local wildlife are thinking about snagging themselves a midnight snack or two.
I wonder if she's fallen asleep.
"You are a strong woman, Vala Mal Doran, and a good woman. Never doubt that." (I absolutely do not jump as she speaks unexpectedly. No way, no how. Vala Mal Doran does *not* jump.) "I grieve that this befell you, but I rejoice that you have come through the experience as the person that you are. Thank you for sharing this chapter of your story with me."
"Umm..." I almost say 'you're welcome,' but that would be ridiculous. What exactly are you supposed to say in this kind of situation? "Thank you for listening."
She sits back and inclines her head to me.
"I hope that it was helpful."
I think about that for a moment, somewhat startled to realise that maybe I actually do feel a little... lighter.
"You know," I say slowly. "I think it actually was."
I mean, it isn't like I haven't told other people, like my team-mates (friends) in SG-1. Hell, most of those have actually *been* hosts at one time or another, and all of them have known people that it happened to. They could understand what it was like in a way that most people simply can't.
And yet, something about Teyla's simple acceptance seems to ease a tension I hadn't even realised was there.
At least for now. I mean, I'm not so starry-eyed that I think one little chat is going to magically solve any hypothetical issues that may theoretically be left over from Qetesh's tenancy in my head.
But for now, it really does help.
(I almost start to wonder if there are other things I could speak of with Teyla. Things like Adria, and the Ori, and that whole nightmarish mess.)
(Almost.)
(Not yet, though. Too soon.)
Anyway, enough of this touchy-feely crap. That blow to the head must be affecting me more than I thought. Not to mention all the stress and exhaustion.
This has been a very trying couple of days.
I take a deep breath and sit up straight.
"Right, young lady," I say sternly. "Storytime is officially over. It's time for you to get some rest. Come on, chop chop."
Teyla takes the sudden change of tone in her stride, looking distinctly amused.
"Do I not even get a goodnight kiss?"
I can't help laughing at that. How did I ever think she might be humourless?
"Well, since you ask so nicely..."
Obliging her isn't exactly a hardship.
Compared to earlier, the kiss is sedate, almost chaste. A gentle brush of my lips on hers.
Okay, maybe not that sedate. Or chaste.
Either way, she seems to appreciate it.
"Goodnight, Teyla," I say, smiling. "Pleasant dreams."
"Goodnight," she replies, and I flatter myself she sounds just the slightest bit breathless. "Do not forget to wake me when it is my turn to watch."
"I won't." Well, I won't forget. I might choose not to wake her, but that's a whole different matter. We'll see what her condition is at the time. And how sleepy I am. "Now go to sleep."
* * * * *
"So. The bomb would be the decorative silver pyramid with the ominously blinking lights, yes?"
(Actually the light display is quite pretty, making the thing look more like an ornament than a bomb. Maybe the Ancients liked even their weapons to be decorative. Or maybe this was supposed to pass as a mere harmless trinket until it was triggered. Hmm. Sneaky.)
"That seems most likely," Teyla agrees. And, as far as I can tell, the energy reading from the scanner in my hand side with her. "Unless you think there two active devices here," she adds.
"Don't," I say, shuddering a little at the thought. "Although, maybe we should take just take everything in this display cabinet? Just to be on the safe side."
Teyla gives me a sidelong glance. "We cannot carry all of them," she points out.
"I know, but..." I sigh. "Give me a moment."
I let my eyes drift half-closed, reaching out with my mind in a way that feels so instinctive that it sometimes comes as a shock to realise that I wasn't born with it.
It turns out that using my shiny new ATA gene is not dissimilar to using whatever it was that the Goa'uld left behind, so many of the techniques I've practiced for using and analysing Goa'uld devices also apply to Ancient ones.
(So, thank you, Qetesh.)
(You bitch.)
(Actually, the ATA gene and the Goa'uld stuff seem to interact in a sort of symbiotic manner. A few glitches here and there, but nothing I can't figure out. Nothing that should have stopped me receiving the treatment, whatever Sam thought. Anyway, people with naturally occurring Ancient genes have become hosts, and *they* didn't explode.)
(At least, I haven't heard if they did.)
(A thought which was less than comforting when I had it shortly *after* injecting myself.)
I lightly brush my senses over all the devices in the same case as the pyramid.
(Maybe I should get that nice Dr Biro to run a few tests. Discreetly. I do not want to have to explain to Elizabeth how I talked one of her staff into letting me acquire the treatment after being explicitly denied it at the SGC.)
(Permission, forgiveness... It's a theme of my life.)
"Nothing else is active," I inform Teyla. "That's our bomb."
"Can you get it out of there?" she asks, eyeing the lock dubiously.
"Of course," I say, my tone gently chiding. Did she not see me get through that door like a hot knife through butter? "Just give me some room to work, and watch my back."
I examine the lock. Hmm. Okay, this is a tough one. Fortunately, I am Vala Mal Doran, Scourge of Locks! And I can not only defeat it, I can do so with *style*.
First things first... No obvious traps. Ooh, there's an unobvious trap, though. Spring-needle, probably hollow. Loaded with poison? Sedative? From what I've seen of the Amata, the latter seems more probable. If it's even loaded at all. This is pre-culling, likely. Maybe they don't even know about it. Of course, that also means it may be full of poison after all.
Maybe it's dried up or gone off over time?
Not that it matters. It isn't like *I'm* going to come a cropper, after all.
"Needle trap," I inform Teyla. "Clever one, too." Okay, more sneaky than clever, but I don't think she's going to know that.
"Is it a problem?"
"Nope. Already disarmed." I frown. "The tumblers are a little stiff, though. I guess this one hasn't been opened for a while. Luckily, I have oil." Bracing my picks one-handed, I reach into my belt pouch for the tiny can, carefully dribbling a few drops of the thick, dark liquid where the mechanism seems the stiffest. Wouldn't want to overdo it. "This stuff is made on an out of the way planet in the Milky Way," I comment. "It's self-spreading and extremely concentrated, so little goes a long way." I seal the canister and return it to my pouch.
"Self-spreading?" Teyla asks, sounding interested.
"Something to do with surface tension and electrostatic forces, I think. Science-y stuff."
I have to admit, I don't really care how it works, only that it does. And it seems to be working just fine. The recalcitrant tumblers start to move a little more freely, letting me manipulate them just *so*. Just a little more, and...
"It's open," I say, a little unnecessarily as the door to the case now swings open.
"Could there be more traps within the case?"
I'm searching for them even before Teyla draws breath to ask the question. A set up like this, it's only sensible to check before picking anything up.
(Not that I've ever found a temple *quite* so full of such elaborate counter-intrusion methods as the ones in those... Montana Jones? films that Jack made us watch on one team movie night. I remember that Daniel turned such an *interesting* shade of red at certain parts. And he exclaimed a great deal. I found his reactions almost more entertaining than the films themselves. I suspect that may have been one reason for Jack's choice.)
"There's a pressure plate, but it's not actually connected to anything." Something else that's simply been 'collected' by the Amata? "It's safe." I think about what I've just said, and then amend it to: "Well, as safe as picking up a live bomb can ever be."
"Do you think you could de-activate it?"
"Maybe? Not with anything like one hundred per cent confidence. I'd rather just get it out of here. If it seems like it's about to blow up in our faces, I can try it then." I smile a little grimly. "Nothing to lose at that point."
Teyla also looks grim. "Agreed."
I swallow hard, really not wanting to say what I'm about to say.
"I'll carry the bomb. You take the zat."
She cocks her head. "Are you sure? You are familiar with the zat and I am not."
"But I'm the only one who has a chance of shutting down the bomb if it goes critical. And I think that would be easier if I'm actually in contact with it."
Damn my sense of... whatever the hell this is.
Oh, well. If it does go up, at least it'll be quick. Before I can change my mind, I reach out and (carefully!) pick up the bomb.
It... does not go boom. Yet.
So far, so good.
"Okay, let's get out of here."
"Main entrance or back way?"
I think for a moment, running through the map I've been putting together in my head since we first got to this city. Possible routes to the puddlejumper from here, chances of encountering guards...
"The back way. Assuming that I'm right about where it leads" -- and I am assuming that, because I *am* right -- "it should be slightly quicker. Less busy, too."
"Then let us be on our way."
"You don't have to tell me twice!"
The journey to the puddlejumper is a mad dash, the details of which mostly escape me because gods above and below I'm holding a 'city killer' *bomb* in my hands.
That... kind of takes up a lot of my attention, to be honest. I have enough spare to get us to the jumper, and to keep half an ear out for company. That's it.
Teyla has to zat a person or two along the way. It happens. She picks up the weapon pretty easily, actually. It strikes me all of a sudden that I could do a lot worse than her as a partner in crime. No, heroism. We are officially being big damn heroes right here.
If this does turn out to be how I meet my end, I really want everyone to know that Vala Mal Doran went out as a *hero*.
Damnit.
Anyway, Teyla and I work together pretty well. Who would've thought?
We reach the jumper, which opens welcomingly for us as we pound towards it. (Well, I *was* thinking something along the lines of 'openopenopenopendamnyou*open*' as soon as we got close.) It closes behind us with just as much alacrity. I carefully sit myself in the pilot's seat and, umm...
"What should I do with this?" I ask, hating the forlorn note in my voice.
My earlier point still applies, but I don't think I can hold onto the bomb *and* pilot the jumper at the same time.
"Give it to me." Teyla sits and holds out her hands. Carefully -- very carefully -- I pass it over to her. I think we both hold our breaths.
No boom this time either.
Everything's turning up Vala.
Okay, let's get this show on the road.
I take a moment to collect my thoughts. (And to figure out the controls of this thing. It's just a ship, right? How hard can it be? I've been able to fly pretty much anything I've put my mind to for a long time, now. Maybe even since before Qetesh.)
"Is there a problem?"
Teyla's composure is perhaps just a hair less perfect than I've been used to, but then she does have a bomb in her lap. I think I'll let her off just this once.
"No problem," I answer cheerfully. "Just refreshing my memory regarding how to fly this thing."
(And by 'refreshing my memory' I mean 'pretty much learning from scratch.')
(But it's not a problem. I can do this. I can do this.)
The puddlejumper takes off smoothly.
Hey, I *can* do this!
I knew I could.
"Where to?" I ask my passenger, who's eyeing the cargo worriedly.
"What? Oh, head to the northwest. That will take us away from the city, the farmland and the stargate. There is no danger of us running into another settlement -- there are none in this part of the continent."
"Okay..." With a little bit of trial and error, I manage to figure out a route and... off we go!
Huzzah!
Hey, these things can move at quite a clip, can't they? And they seem to be pretty manoeuvrable, despite the fact they look a little boxy and barge-like.
I hope the jumper didn't hear that.
Nice jumper, good jumper. Do your best for Captain Vala, alright?
"Ah, Vala?"
Just as I register the traces of panic -- well, very strong concern -- in Teyla's voice, I also notice something else. A little niggling feeling that I *thought* was coming from the jumper, but is actually coming from...
Oh, hell.
I turn to look at the bomb, which is now glowing even *more* ominously, the pretty colours pulsing in a regular pattern.
'Down!' I think, frantically. We start to descend.
"The countdown just kicked up a notch or two," I tell Teyla. "I'm setting us down in a clearing. Dump the bomb out -- gently! -- and I'll try to get us out of the blast radius. Ready?"
She gets to her feet, carefully making her way over to the hatch. "Ready," she confirms, only looking a little grey around the edges.
The hatch is opening even before we've fully touched down, Teyla leaning out as soon as the gap is wide enough for her to fit.
A tense moment passes, then: "Go!"
She doesn't need to tell me twice.
The puddlejumper shoots off like a rocket, zooming away in response to my frantic mental commands to 'getusoutofhererightnownow*now*damnit!'
I'm listening out for the explosion, but it doesn't come, and I'm starting to think that we're going to be okay, that we're going to make it to safety, and maybe the bomb isn't even *going* to explode, and won't we all feel very silly *then* and we'll just-
BOOM!
* * * * *
"How much longer?" I wonder, squinting against the sun as I search the horizon for a familiar circular shape. If we're where I think we are, it should be coming into view shortly. Maybe when we get to the top of this hill.
"Five minutes less than when you last asked," Teyla murmurs. When I narrow my eyes at her, she adds: "If we are where I think we are, then we should reach our destination within the next couple of hours."
"Oh. Well, good. And not a moment too soon, if you ask me. Traipsing through the countryside is really *not* my idea of a good time."
"So you have said. Repeatedly."
"Well, it's true." I think about all the things I'm going to do when we get back to Atlantis. "You know, when we get back, I think the first thing I'm going to do is have a nice, hot bath. With bubbles. Lots and lots of bubbles."
Mmm, heavenly. I can almost feel it now.
"That does sound pleasant."
I glance over at Teyla, giving her a sultry smile.
"Maybe we could share one."
"Maybe."
Her tone is a little too noncommittal for my liking so I start to marshal my arguments. From the obvious (it would be fun) to the environmental (water conservation is a noble goal) and everything in between. But before I can voice any of them, we crest the gentle but long incline, and I'm distracted by a flare of anticipation as I eagerly look to the horizon once more and see...
Not the chappa'ai.
"What?!"
The word bursts from my lips unbidden, shock stopping me dead in my tracks as my eyes are drawn to the unexpected yet familiar shapes of buildings silhouetted against the distant skyline.
A settlement.
No, *the* settlement. The one I thought was far, far behind us by now. The one I told Teyla it would be ridiculously bad idea to head for, given the circumstances under which we left it.
The one that apparently was our destination all along.
Why, that sneaky little...
Who does she think she is? Me?
I turn to Teyla, who has apparently been waiting patiently for me to process this little surprise, letting her see the fury in my eyes. She meets it with placid equanimity.
"You *lied* to me!" I accuse.
"I did not," she says, brazen hussy that she is.
"You *said* were going to the chappa'ai! Does that look like the chappa'ai to you?" I jab my finger in the direction of the town. "No, it bloody well does not! Ergo, you lied."
I cross my arms, daring her to try to wriggle out of that one.
"I never said we were going to the stargate."
I open my mouth to angrily refute that ridiculous claim, then almost choke as I realise that I can't. She talked about our destination a lot, but she never actually said what that destination was. Not specifically. I just... assumed.
"You *implied* that's where we were going," I say, trying not to sound as though the wind has been taken out of my sails somewhat. "You knew that's what I thought, and you sure as hell didn't correct me."
She shrugs. "True," she agrees, and then she even has the nerve to smile a little. "I did tell you that you make too many assumptions."
For once in my life, I find myself utterly lost for words. Fighting the urge to cross the short distance between us and shake the smug out of her (or kiss her silly; one of the two), I make a valiant effort to claw back my composure.
"Why didn't you *tell* me?" I all-but growl. "You didn't have to deceive me. I'm a reasonable woman; we could have discussed this."
"We did discuss it. And-"
"Barely," I mutter.
"And you were quite firm in your opinion," she continues, as if I'd never said a word. "Even if I had been able to convince you -- which was by no means a certainty -- it would have taken a great deal of our precious time." She shrugs. "In this instance, I judged it easier by far to ask for forgiveness rather than permission."
I'm a little horrified to hear myself let out a rather unladylike noise, somewhere between a snort and a splutter. It's *her* fault. This is what she's reduced me to!
"But you complained about McKay and Sheppard doing that exact same thing!" I point out. "Doesn't that just makes you a great big hypocrite? How can you even stand there and say that with a straight face?"
"I have worked alongside the Lanteans for some time now. It is possible that I may be starting to pick up some of their bad habits." She sighs, sounding not at all sincere. "It is a concern."
"Ha! Like you really care." Weirdly, maintaining a suitably disapproving demeanour is actually proving much harder than I'd like. There is a part of me -- a small part, but not an insignificant one -- that can't help admiring her audacity. Curse my treacherous heart! "Are you even going to apologise?"
She considers for a moment.
"I am sorry if you are upset by my actions."
For a moment, twin urges to sulk and to smile do battle within me.
Oh, what the hell?
I stalk angrily towards her, then lean in and kiss her hard on the lips.
"Call that an apology?" I murmur, smirking. "You're going to have to do *much* better than that if you ever want me to forgive you."
She kisses me back.
"I will try harder then," she replies, solemnly. "Although I suggest it would be better to wait until we have reached the settlement."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road!"
"Agreed."
With the town in sight, we manage to maintain a relatively brisk pace the rest of the way. It probably helps that it's mostly downhill.
The town gates are guarded, of course. I don't think there are more guards than usual, but I'm not a hundred per cent sure. In any event, they seem to be ready for our approach -- or just on alert generally -- because one of the runners dashes off into the town as soon as we come into view. Some of the guards march out to meet us, approaching cautiously with weapons at the ready.
I resist the urge to say 'I told you so.'
"Let me handle this," Teyla mutters to me.
"Be my guest."
As the guards start to surround us, she steps forward, smiling broadly, and starts to speak.