Friendship, Week 1: The Child of Fear (1/3)
Title: The Child of Fear
Author: wildcat88
Genre: Friendship
Prompt: Terrorism
Word Count: ~17,500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Atlantis must pick up the pieces after returning to Pegasus from an extended absence in the Milky Way. However, reclaiming their place in the Coalition will not be easy. The galaxy has changed, and not every change is visible.
Notes: Many thanks to my fabulous betas, everybetty and kristen999 who made this immeasurably better. All faults mine.
Art by danceswithgary
The Child of Fear
Teyla stood, keeping her expression neutrally pleasant, and pressed her fingertips together as she bowed first her head and then her entire upper body in the Zhuliskan custom. She held the bow until the ambassador and her entourage passed, relaxing only after the room had cleared.
"Excellent work, Teyla." Richard Woolsey removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. "We couldn't have done this without you."
"Thank you, Mr. Woolsey."
"Richard, please." He sank onto the bench in the center of the stone railing where they had pled their case for the past fourteen hours. "After six weeks of negotiations, I'm done with formalities." He scrubbed his hands over his face, his shoulders slumped. "God, I'm tired."
Teyla blinked in surprise at the rare admission. "I, too, am ready to return home. We have visited many beautiful worlds, but it has been too long since I have seen my son."
"Where are we today?"
She smiled as she gathered her belongings. "Zhulisk. And Pammoi before that and Q'o before that and--"
"And some other planet before that. We've definitely made the rounds. I've groveled more than even I thought possible." Richard slid a folder into his case, tugged and smoothed his jacket, and followed her out of the communal hall. "At least the Coalition has agreed to give us full member status."
"But not military authority." Teyla nodded to Sergeant Kinsey and Corporal Mayweather who fell in step with them as they headed to the Ancestral Ring.
Richard grinned wryly. "Somehow I doubt Colonel Sheppard will mind."
Teyla shared his smile for a moment before shaking her head. "It is a sign of their continued mistrust." She looked over her shoulder at the village, one of the few untouched by the Wraith's fury during Atlantis' two-year disappearance to the Milky Way galaxy. "I fear we have only begun to feel the repercussions."
But when they arrived home, the chaos of the gateroom filled her with such a sense of normalcy that she couldn't hold back a laugh. Rodney was gesturing wildly, his face scorching red as he ranted at anyone who would listen. Radek had his nose pressed to his monitor. Chuck and Amanda were frowning and pretending to study a display. Airman Simmons and Corporal Wainwright were scrubbing green goop from the gateroom floor while a team of scientists evaluated the walls with various scanners. John was leaning on the balcony overhang, chin propped on one fist while he grimaced at the data pad he held in the other.
"Problems, Colonel?" Richard asked, climbing the main staircase toward Ops.
John glanced up and grinned. "Nope. How were the negotiations?"
"Ever had a root canal?"
"Ah." John glowered at the pad and poked it hard. "Remind me again why I let Lorne transfer."
"You didn't. Carter took him." Rodney glared at the nearest technician. "Run the diagnostic again."
"But--"
"It is not minus twelve in here, no matter which temperature scale you're using. Fix it." Rodney stomped over to John's side. "Imbeciles, every one of them."
"Doctor McKay, please refrain from belittling everyone," Richard said when he passed by on the way to his office. "Don't make me have that discussion with you again."
"It's not belittling. It's the truth," Rodney called after him before turning to Teyla. "What's his problem?"
"He is tired, as we all are." She locked gazes with Rodney and arched a brow. "And you were belittling. Do not make me have that discussion with you, either."
Rodney's eyes widened and he unconsciously rubbed the spot on his arm where her bantos rod usually landed. "Fine."
She turned to John. "Major Teldy will make a fine second-in-command, just as Major Lorne will make an excellent Executive Officer for Colonel Carter."
"Yes, they will." John folded the pad against his chest as he crossed his arms. "How were the negotiations really?"
"Exhausting. Leaving as we did cost us friends, and the extent of our unexplained disappearance has left many worlds doubting our reliability."
"But we're back in," John said.
"Yes, we are."
His eyes narrowed. "But not in charge of the military."
"No." Teyla leaned against a pillar, the weight of failure pressing down on her shoulders. "They are not convinced that we are here to stay."
"You mean the Genii are still running the show?" Rodney asked. "Have they met those people? I wouldn't trust them with my lunch money, much less the security of the entire galaxy against the Wraith."
"The Genii have no love for the Wraith," Teyla reminded him. "They are not as well equipped as Atlantis, but they also have no other ties."
"You know we didn't have a choice," John said.
Teyla squeezed his arm. "I know why you did it, and I supported your decision. However, we did abandon these people when we left and the Wraith realized it. Thousands died in the resulting cullings. We promised to protect them, and we did not. They are not willing to put their trust in us again."
"Can't say that I blame them." John huffed a laugh. "Can't say that I'm disappointed either. It will be nice to go back to exploring the galaxy again."
A yawn caught Teyla by surprise, and she grinned sheepishly. "I believe a hot bath and a good night's sleep are necessary. I will see you tomorrow at staff meeting."
"Don't forget to pick up Torren from the infirmary," Rodney said.
Teyla whirled. "The infirmary? Why?"
"Jennifer is keeping him while Kanaan is away."
"Kanaan is not here?" Teyla rubbed at the headache throbbing between her eyes. "Where has he gone?"
Rodney shrugged and looked at John who said, "New Athos, I think. Halling dialed in and asked to speak to him. After they talked for a few minutes, Kanaan grabbed his stuff and headed out. Some kind of council meeting."
Teyla smiled to herself as she walked down the main stairs toward the infirmary. She had always known that Kanaan had leadership potential. Since they had returned from Earth, he had developed an interest in the governance of their people, especially now that they were joining other surviving cultures on a world previously culled to extinction. A council of leaders from each society had been formed, and Kanaan had been chosen to represent Athos.
She heard her son's giggles before she walked into the infirmary. Captain Ruiz had a tight grip on the back of Torren's clothing and was flying him around the room like a jumper. The captain came to an abrupt stop above a gurney and dropped Torren who bounced on his stomach and shrieked with laughter.
"Look who's here," Captain Ruiz said.
Torren twisted in a way only the young can. "Mama!" He pushed to his knees and reached for her.
"Hello, vrooshen." Teyla scooped him up and kissed him until he giggled and pushed her away. "You do not look like a boy who is ready for sleep."
"No. Fly."
"It seems you share more with Uncle John than just your name." Teyla turned to Ruiz. "Thank you for caring for him."
"Anytime, ma'am. I had a few minutes before my follow-up scan," Ruiz gestured at the heavy plastic boot on his foot, "and Doctor Keller asked me to look after him while she tended to a patient with the flu or something." He wrinkled his nose. "Believe me, I got the better deal. He's a great kid."
"I think so as well, but I am biased," Teyla said. "Please thank Doctor Keller for me when she returns."
Torren talked the entire trek from the infirmary to the transporter and from the transporter to their quarters, his chatter a strange mix of English, Athosian, Satedan, Czech, French, and a few other words that made her decide to limit his exposure to Marines. By the time she bathed and changed him into his sleepwear, his chin was nodding toward his chest. After tucking him into bed, she ran a hot bubble bath for herself, added an extra dose of oils, and lit several candles. She sank to her nose with a sigh as the door opened.
Kanaan entered in silence, his weary face softening when he spotted Torren. He set his bag on the floor and bent to kiss their son's head before glancing her way. "Welcome back."
Teyla waved him into the bathing area and waited until he shut the door before saying, "It is good to be home."
Something intangible flickered over his face and was gone. "Were the negotiations successful?"
"As successful as they can be right now. How was the council meeting?"
Kanaan's smile was wide and genuine. "Good. We finally have a name for our new world -- Altera."
"Altera?" Teyla's brows shot up. "In honor of the Ancestors?"
He sat on the edge of the tub, running his fingers mindlessly through the bubbles. "Yes. It is fitting, is it not? So many of their children coming together on one world. Even the Satedans agreed."
Teyla gaped at him. "The Satedans have joined us? Halling said they were uninterested. When did they change their minds?"
Kanaan stood and dried his hands on a towel. "Halling and I approached them again a few days ago. The few who survived the Wraith attack on Belkan relocated to Manara with the rest of their people. We--convinced them of the advantages of joining us."
She studied his face, and for a moment didn't recognize him. "What are you not saying?"
"We have let others chart our course for too long." He met and held her gaze. "We will no longer be terrorized and slaughtered like dumb loprem. We will fight the Wraith to our last breath." He exhaled noisily and began to pace. "Seeing Earth opened my eyes to the possibilities we have. We can achieve everything they have and more given the chance."
"And you are planning to take that chance, regardless of the cost."
"Have we not already paid that cost? How many died in the culling that took your father? How many died at Michael's hand?" Kanaan spit the name with all the bitterness it deserved. "Our people are almost extinct, Teyla. Satedans outnumber us as it is."
"And if we are reckless, the Wraith will destroy us completely." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "I do not disagree with you. I left our people years ago to join the fight against the Wraith. But we must be wise when we battle."
"We will be. The Satedans have agreed to coordinate the training of a militia, not just for Altera but for every member world of the Coalition."
"To battle the Wraith will take more than a handful of warriors."
Kanaan glanced away as that inscrutable expression returned. "We have other plans as well." He stretched his arms over his head as a huge yawn overtook him. "Will you be done soon? I reek of tarniq smoke and fried tuttleroot."
Teyla flicked her foot, sending a spray of bubbles over his face. His eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth slowly curled into a smile as he pulled his shirt over his head.
xxx
Ronon slammed the tankard on the table and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So, how drunk were you when you agreed to this?"
"I was not drunk," Solen answered as he refilled Ronon's glass. "Knew what I was doing."
Ronon gave him a level stare. "The Solen Sincha I knew would die before getting involved in politics."
"Things change, Ronon. Things have changed." Solen wrapped his meaty hands around the bottle of ale and took a long drink. "I barely escaped the Belkan culling. Most of our people didn't. We're down to less than a hundred now."
"I know that." Ronon stared into his beer as the rage boiled inside. "Wish I'd been there."
"I don't. I'm glad you weren't there." Solen finished the bottle and heaved it toward the wall, a satisfied grin appearing when the glass shattered. "Because we need you now."
Ronon knew that tone. He pushed his glass away and leaned back, waiting. Whatever Solen was working toward wasn't going to be easy. Solen stretched, belched, and opened another bottle, gulping the foam that spewed from the top. Ronon narrowed his eyes as he watched. Patience in Solen was as unusual as silence in McKay.
"You're a leader, Ronon, and we need leaders."
"No."
Solen snorted a laugh. "You don't even know what I'm going to ask."
"Doesn't matter."
"It might." Solen glanced around the tiny tavern before locking eyes with Ronon, his customary humor vanishing completely. "You fought the Wraith for years as a runner. You know their tactics and their weaknesses." Solen's eyes blazed. "Teach us."
"Teach?" Ronon sat up straight. "Teach who?"
"The militia we are forming." Solen looked over his shoulders again and leaned forward. "We aren't going to let anyone have control over us anymore. We want to defend ourselves." A calculating smile appeared. "And we want the best to show us how to do it."
Ronon cocked his head to the side, studying his old friend. Solen's gaze was too steady, his movements too controlled -- he was hiding something. "What else?"
Solen frowned. "What else? Isn't that enough?"
"I mean, what are you not saying?"
"So much," Solen waved his arms wide, "this world couldn't hold it."
Ronon fought the urge to roll his eyes. Solen's ability to exaggerate was trumped only by his ability to drink, but experience had taught Ronon that some nugget of truth was usually hidden in the bluster. Uncovering it took time.
"This is our chance, Ronon. Our chance to avenge Sateda, to rid ourselves of the Wraith. A chance for peace and safety." Solen chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle at the fire, making the flames dance. "A chance for future Satedans."
Ronon folded his arms over his chest. "What future Satedans? Our people are blending with the other refugees on your new world. Our ways will be lost."
"But our people will live." Solen's face knotted in pain. "And they will carry Sateda in their hearts."
Ronon suspected he was getting close to that nugget. "Who was she?"
Solen jerked back. "Who?"
Ronon kept his gaze gentle as he waited. For a moment, raw grief ravaged Solen's expression. Then it was gone, replaced with pure hatred.
"Kera died in the Belkan culling," Solen spat. "She was carrying our first child."
Ronon closed his eyes, knowing how empty condolences were. "And you want to fight in their memory."
"Yes!" Solen took a deep breath and waved at the servant girl. "Isn't that why you do it?"
Ronon nodded. "But you need to know it won't get rid of the hurt. It only makes it worse."
Solen ordered two plates of food and another round of drinks, and then said, "I don't care. I have to do something. Will you help us? Help me?"
The reasoning was sound, but something in Ronon's gut told him he didn't have the whole story yet. "Let me think on it."
Solen's lip curled in derision. "You mean, let you ask your masters on Atlantis for permission."
Ronon leaped to his feet and planted his hands on the table, leaning into Solen's face. "I have no masters."
Something flickered behind Solen's eyes, but he smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I know they are your friends. It's just you used to be a lot more decisive."
"You mean reckless." Ronon sat down and stabbed a fork into the plate of steaming meat and vegetables the girl set before him. "Like you said, I learned a lot when I was running." He took a sip of beer. "My people can help, you know."
That flicker again. "Your people?"
"Atlantis. They've got guns and stuff." Ronon grinned. "You should see the explosives."
Solen grinned in return and held up his bottle. "Here's to friends with explosives."
"Here's to the end of the Wraith."
Ronon smacked his glass against Solen's and gulped until it was empty. He would talk it over with Sheppard, but he already knew his answer. He would train not just a militia, but warriors, and together they would bring the Wraith to their knees.
xxx
John bolted upright, heart pounding, choking back the scream exploding inside his chest. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes as he gasped for air and slumped back on the bed when his quarters came into focus. Damn that dream; it always ended the same: Ronon grinning wryly at Todd as he flips the detonator switch that destroys Michael's lab.
The dreams had started after his little trip into the future, thanks to Hologram McKay's vivid storytelling. But after rescuing Teyla and killing Michael, the dreams had stopped. Came with less frequency, anyway. As John rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to splash water on his face, he acknowledged the--weirdness that so much of what McKay had told him had come true -- Woolsey running Atlantis, Carter commanding her own ship, McKay and Keller dating, and now Ronon. It was freaky.
And when Ronon left the team last month to train the Coalition militia the dreams returned with a vengeance -- Teyla screaming his name as Michael rips the life out of her, McKay growing old and crumbling to dust, but especially Ronon's blaze of glory.
John squinted at his watch -- 4:48 in the morning. His alarm was set for 6:00, but he'd never be able to go back to sleep now. He slipped into his sweats and running shoes, grabbed his earwig, and ignored the ache of loneliness as he headed to the east pier alone. He nodded to Corporal Sanderson as she jogged by while he stretched. The engineers had done a fine job with the track they had installed -- a six mile course that started at the pier, ran past Weir Tower, between the Grodin and Ford Spires, and down Beckett Alley before looping back through the Athosian Gardens to the pier.
He shook out his arms and legs, bobbed his head from side to side, and trotted down the track to warm up. Muscles humming, he sped up, hoping to clear his mind, but as he found his rhythm, his thoughts continued to roil. The fight to get Atlantis back to Pegasus had been long, and the Lucian Alliance attack had almost derailed it completely. John refused to consider what might have been had McKay actually been allowed to finish dialing the Destiny. As it was, Atlantis would not receive the full staff that had been promised until the Alliance was no longer a threat.
The image from the nightmare had been seared into his brain and, as in his dream, John began to run faster. Legs and arms pumping, chest heaving, sprinting toward something he would never reach. Muscles strained. His heart galloped. Lungs struggled to pull in enough oxygen. But he continued to push himself. Spots filled his vision. His sides cramped. His quads turned to jelly.
"Sheppard, come in."
"Shit." John stumbled to a stop, bracing a hand against the nearest building as he gasped for air.
"Sheppard?"
"What..." John slid to the ground and leaned his head back. "--is it-- Rodney?"
"What's wrong with you?"
John closed his eyes. "McKay."
"I need you in Ops."
Alarm raced up John's spine, and he sat up straight. "What's wrong?"
McKay's sigh roared through John's radio. "We're not under attack. I just -- Damn it. Hold on." Something metal clanged, and McKay cursed a blue streak then shouted at someone to finish whatever they were doing and get out. "Incompetent-- worthless-- Sheppard, you still there?"
"Still here, Rodney."
Another metallic crash and a sigh. "Just-- get up here."
"On my way."
John pushed to his feet, grimacing as every muscle shrieked its displeasure at the abuse he'd heaped on it. He made his way to the nearest transporter and minutes later strolled into Operations -- the completely unmanned Operations control room.
"What the hell?" John glanced around the dimly lit Atrium and catwalks. "McKay?"
"Here." A hand waved from behind a panel. "It's about time."
"Where is everyone?"
McKay peeked over the console. "Sick. That's why I called you. I need some help."
"They're all sick?"
"The flu." McKay stood, holding a coffee cup in one hand and several crystals in the other. "Jennifer says about half the expedition is down with it. The few people I have still functioning are spread thin, and I have to finish reprogramming this panel before our guests show up."
"Fine. What do you need?"
"Keep an eye on environmental controls. We've had several reports of fluctuating temperatures in chem labs. Zelenka is running diagnostics on it but you'll have to adjust it manually until he figures out what's wrong. Oh, and answer any calls that come in."
John studied the consoles that Chuck and Amelia usually manned. Read-outs in Ancient and English scrolled continuously. A warning light flashed, but before he could identify the problem, another one went off. Then the comms panel lit up. John raked a hand through his hair, blew out a breath, and got to work.
Two hours later, he was staring cross-eyed at the display while Zelenka and McKay yelled at each other about fried circuitry and a barren supply inventory. The tread of boots and a gentle throat clearing shook John from his stupor, and he glanced up to find Chuck, surgical mask firmly in place and antibacterial everything in both arms, at his elbow.
"Sergeant."
"Good morning, Colonel. Is Penny still sick?"
John winced as he stood, pressing both hands to his back to work out the kinks. "I don't know who Penny is but if she's night shift, then yes. You got this?"
"Yes, sir." Chuck set a box of tissues and a can of Lysol on the console before pulling out wipes to scrub the chair and controls. "Amelia will be here as soon as Doctor Keller finishes with her."
McKay turned from his project, his face scrunched with worry. "Banks is sick, too?"
Chuck nodded. "The flu."
"Damn it. I'm running out of people. As soon as one gets well, two more come down with it. Jennifer says she's never seen anything like it -- knocks you on your ass for days. Before they can get it under control, it mutates and everybody gets it again."
"I know," John said. "The SGC is working on it, too, along with Beckett and Keller. They'll figure it out." He checked his watch and scowled. "The meeting starts in less than an hour."
"Go." McKay gave a dismissive wave to John and turned back to his console. "Try it again, Radek."
"You're supposed to be there, too, Rodney."
McKay's death glare had always been good, but today's was spectacular. "Go."
"Going."
John hurried to his quarters and hit the shower, sighing as the hot water cascaded over his head and shoulders, and down his back, the gentle massage loosening the knots stress had tied. After shaving and donning a fresh uniform, he headed to the Mess for a quick bite. He filled a tray and looked around. Seating was plentiful with so many people ill, but he was slightly depressed to not spot a single person he knew well enough to share a meal with.
"Unc' John!"
John squinted into the dawn that covered the balcony, seeing only silhouettes but knowing the small body that belonged to that squeal was out there somewhere. When he stepped outside, his shin was attacked by a wriggling two-year-old.
"Up!"
"Torren." Kanaan sounded like his patience was at an end. "Be seated."
"But--"
"Torren." One of the silhouettes moved and John's leg was suddenly free. "My apologies, Colonel. Please, join us."
John blinked away the sun's afterimage and took a seat. "Thanks." He grinned at his favorite fan. "How are you, bud?"
"Hungry."
Kanaan shook his head. "Teyla is on her way." He looked at his son. "We are waiting for her."
"She's sick," Torren added.
John paused, a fork of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth. "The flu?"
"I do not believe so. The symptoms are different." His eyes narrowed, and he frowned as he studied John. "Is something wrong, Colonel? You appear worried."
"It's this damn flu. People keep getting sick. We're short-staffed, and it's beginning to affect city operations."
Kanaan's expression flickered and then he touched Torren's leg. "Be still. She will be here soon." He turned back to John. "I understood that more personnel would be coming soon."
John sighed and sipped his coffee. "Earth is still dealing with the Lucian Alliance threat. The bombing at Homeworld Security really rattled them. Plus they can't seem to find a way to fight this flu."
"Perhaps my people can help."
"How?"
Kanaan sat back, arms folded over his chest, tapping a finger to his chin. "So far, Teyla and I have not become sick. She told me about your reaction to Kirsan Fever a couple of years ago. We could be resistant to the flu as well." He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with intensity. "If you are willing to teach us, we could learn the city's systems so the stations would not go unmanned when someone is ill." He paused, his features clouding. "If the Wraith were to attack while the city is vulnerable--"
John flashed back to the early days, when the Athosians were living on Atlantis and had been falsely accused of colluding with the Wraith. The wound had healed but the scar was still there.
"If you do not wish our help--"
"It's not that." John nibbled on a slice of bacon, not wanting to make the same mistake again. "It's not my decision to make. Let me talk it over with McKay and Woolsey. We may not have enough excess personnel to train you. I'll let you know what we decide."
"Very well. I will also discuss it with Teyla and Halling, as well as the council."
Torren bounced in his seat. "Mama!"
"Good morning," Teyla said with a smile as she pressed her forehead to Kanaan's and caressed Torren's face. "Hello, John. I am pleased you are joining us."
"Hey, Teyla. Are you feeling better?" John asked.
"Much better, thank you." She rested a hand on her stomach, and her eyes widened when she glanced at his tray. "Autress berries?" She swatted Kanaan's arm. "Why did you not tell me?"
Kanaan stared at her back as she hurried to the breakfast line. "She hates autress berries."
xxx
"No, no, no." Rodney fought the urge to shove the woman aside and do it himself. "Look, Mina--"
"Mita."
"What?"
"My name is Mita." She drew herself to her full height, almost to Rodney's shoulder. "Mita."
"Fine. Whatever. How many times do I have to tell you that you can't reroute power through that section? It will overload the conduits."
"You have said it many times yet I still do not understand why."
Rodney opened his mouth then snapped it shut again. Patience, Teyla had said. What he really needed was an IV of caffeine in one arm and antibiotics in the other. His head was stuffy, his chest ached, and he was certain he felt bumps behind his knees, growing by the minute. Probably tumors. He groaned at the thought.
"Are you unwell, Doctor?" Mita asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am." Rodney blew his nose for the hundred and twelfth time that morning, and pinched the bridge of his nose as the jackhammer behind his eyes ratcheted up another notch. "I'm dying and no one cares."
"Dying?" Mita's eyes went wide. "Truly?"
"Well, maybe not at this exact moment. Feels like it, though."
"Should I call Doctor Keller?"
"No," he moaned. "She'll just give me another shot of steroids and tell me to suck it up."
"But if you are ill--"
Rodney huffed a sigh. "Everyone is ill. That's why you're here, remember?"
Her face crumpled. "And I am failing you. Perhaps another could learn faster. I will speak with Kanaan--"
"Then I'd have to spend another month teaching this to someone else." Rodney took a seat when the room began to spin. "Have you been studying the schematics I gave you?"
"You gave me no schematics."
"Of course I did. They are on the tablet--" Rodney glanced at the data pad lying on the console behind them. "--over there." He handed it to her, ignoring her knowing smile. "You have to understand the load balance that the different conduits can tolerate."
While Mita read through the information with practiced ease, Rodney leaned his head back and closed his eyes, fighting the cough building in his chest. When Sheppard had brought Kanaan's offer to the table six weeks ago, Rodney had laughed and gone back to work. Yet as the sickness continued to ravage the expedition, he was forced to consider the option. The SGC was still working on a cure, and they were hesitant to rotate personnel until they were sure this alien bug wouldn't put Earth at risk. The Daedalus and Apollo continued to make supply runs but all contact was over the radio.
Teyla, Kanaan, Torren, Ronon -- none of the Pegasus natives had become sick. Rodney's suspicious nature told him that was significant, but he was too foggy, and too busy, to think it through. The damn flu was eating his brain cells.
"Doctor?"
Rodney opened his eyes to find Mita watching him, her face filled with concerned. "What now?" he asked.
She handed him a cup of coffee. "I believe you have a meeting."
He jerked forward and checked his watch. "It's after 9:00. How did that happen?" He snatched the coffee from her hand and downed it in a gulp. "Where is my--"
Mita held out his tablet and another cup.
Rodney grabbed both and staggered toward the door, wondering how he'd fallen asleep and why he hadn't gotten an assistant before now. Well, technically Mita wasn't his assistant; she was a trainee, a good one if he were honest. For someone who'd never used a computer until a month ago, Mita had shown an innate grasp of the concept. She had already mastered communications so they had moved on to some of the more critical systems.
When he reached the conference room, Rodney sat in the first chair he reached and slumped down, propping an elbow on the table and resting his head on it. With red-rimmed eyes and a three-day growth of beard, Sheppard looked as bad as Rodney felt. Woolsey was his normal, buttoned-down self, but his face was waxen except for the red splotches on his cheeks. Only Teyla was the picture of health, her pregnancy adding to her radiance.
Woolsey discretely blew his nose and took a sip of something steaming and likely fragrant, if Rodney were able to smell it or anything else. "Good morning." Woolsey's voice was a gravelly scratch. He took another drink and cleared his throat, but it didn't help. "Doctor Keller will be here shortly, but let's get started. Doctor McKay, how is the training program coming along?"
Rodney didn't bother to raise his head. "Slowly." He glanced at Teyla who gave him an encouraging smile. "The Athosians are adequate, but they don't know the fundamentals."
"What can my people do to improve?" Teyla asked.
"Nothing." Rodney rubbed his temple, trying to wish away the headache. "The people who do these jobs normally are highly educated. They've spent a lot of years learning and working on systems like these -- okay, not like these, but with highly advanced technology -- and they are barely competent. There's no way your people can catch up at the rate we need them to."
Teyla tapped on her tablet, reading whatever she'd called up. "Would extending their hours be of benefit? Many are working ten-hour shifts. Perhaps--"
"Who do we have off world?" Sheppard's eyes were focused on the doors, his head cocked to the side.
"No one," Woolsey said. "Why?"
"Gate just activated." Sheppard clicked his radio. "Sheppard to Ops. What's going on?" His face knotted and then a smile broke out. "Send him in."
Moments later the doors opened and Ronon strode in. "Hey." He stopped and looked around the table. "It's true then."
"What's true?" Sheppard asked.
"That there's a sickness out of control here." Ronon dropped in the chair next to Sheppard. "You look like shit."
Sheppard sniffed then groaned. "Feel like it. What's brings you to town?"
All traces of humor disappeared from Ronon's face. "Got a problem. We've been hearing rumors about attacks on Coalition meetings. Nothing solid we could follow though. We increased security at the meetings. A couple of our patrols were hit last week. Minor injuries. Then last night a bomb went off during an invitation conference with the Bourjos. Two of Solen's men were wounded."
Teyla leaned forward. "And Solen?"
"Shrapnel in the shoulder. Lost a lot of blood. Beckett's working on him."
Woolsey pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Have you tracked down the source of the rumors?"
"Still working on it."
"We don't have anybody we can spare, big guy," Sheppard said. "We're running a skeleton crew as it is."
"Don't need people." Ronon turned to Woolsey. "We need weapons."
Woolsey shook his head. "We can't--"
"Look, like you said, you're running a skeleton crew. I know you don't like it, but right now, my people are the ones providing protection for the Coalition."
Rodney coughed, a deep rattle that ripped at his vocal cords. "What happened to the Genii?"
"They joined the militia." Ronon's eyes gleamed with pride then dimmed. "But whoever is behind this is patient and well trained."
"Wraith worshipers?" Sheppard asked.
"Don't think so. We haven't run into Wraith weaponry."
"Well, who else would be behind terrorist attacks on the Coalition?" Rodney sipped his coffee and grimaced at the thick, cold liquid. "Ew."
"Don't know," Ronon said. "But I'm gonna find out." He looked back at Woolsey. "I need those weapons."
Woolsey sighed. "And I need--"
The doors flew open and Jennifer rushed in. "I apologize for being late." Hair disheveled and dark circles under her eyes, she scurried to a chair and took a deep breath. "I finally discovered something about the flu virus."
"A cure?" Woolsey asked.
Jennifer smiled. "Not yet, but we're close now that we've discovered its origins." Her gaze swept the room. "The virus has been genetically modified."
Woolsey frowned. "What are you saying?"
"The mutations are not natural." She glanced around again. "It's been programmed. To target us."
Rodney sat up straight and gripped the edge of the table when his vision swam. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. I ran the results four times, sent them to the SGC for confirmation and had Carson double check."
"Let me get this straight," Sheppard said. "Someone created a biological weapon, a virus that attacks humans and then mutates before it can be cured."
Jennifer's lips pressed into a thin line. "Not just any humans, Colonel. Humans from Earth."
"Is such a thing possible," Teyla asked.
"Yes," Jennifer said. "There are subtle differences in our bodies' chemical makeup that tie us to the world of our ancestry."
"And someone found a way to target those differences?" Rodney gaped at her. "My God. Do you understand the implications of that?"
Jennifer nodded. "We're lucky they chose the flu."
Ronon looked at Rodney and then Jennifer. "You saying that they could release some kind of virus that would only kill certain people?"
"Exactly." Rodney pushed out of his chair and began to pace. "These-- terrorists could release a toxin in a crowd and only kill the Earthlings." He turned to Ronon. "Or the Satedans or Athosians. Anyone really."
"Terrorists?" Teyla asked. "Do you believe the creators of the flu are also responsible for the attacks on Ronon's militia?"
Sheppard exchanged glances with Ronon. "It's possible."
"Makes sense," Ronon added. "Depletes the militia, and it keeps Atlantis' military too thin and weak to help."
"To what purpose?" Teyla rested her hands on her growing abdomen. "Who has reason to destroy the Coalition?"
"And why the flu?" Woolsey asked.
Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Woolsey dabbed at his nose. "I mean, why not something lethal? Why not a much deadlier virus like Doctor McKay mentioned. Why just make us sick?"
"And who has the knowledge to do it?" Rodney asked. "Creating a bioweapon isn't something your everyday farmer knows how to do."
Sheppard looked to Woolsey. "We need to find out and stop them before they create something worse."
Woolsey bowed his head for a moment and then turned to Ronon. "What kind of weapons do you need?"
xxx
Teyla tugged her blouse into place and sat back in the bed, allowing the calm of the infirmary to lull her into a light, meditative state, one that was quickly broken when Jennifer returned and pulled back the curtain.
"Everything looks great, Teyla. Your baby is developing exactly as expected and has a strong heartbeat."
Teyla sucked in a quick breath, pressing her hand to her side. "And quite a kick."
"Do you want to know what you're having?" Jennifer asked, eyes shining.
"Yes." Teyla held up a hand. "No. I mean, yes."
Jennifer laughed. "Do you want to have Kanaan here?"
"Kanaan is on New Athos." Teyla glanced away and then looked back with a smile. "I always thought he would be a good leader, and I have been proven correct."
"But he's away a lot."
"I had hoped to share this time with him since we were not permitted it with Torren." Teyla sighed and smoothed her hands over her belly. "But the demands of leadership are great."
Jennifer drew up a chair. "Have you thought about moving to New Athos with him? Not that I want you to leave."
"I know, and I have considered it, especially since I am on leave again from my team. But Mr. Woolsey does not have the time to represent Atlantis as well as govern it. I am the junior Lantean ambassador. Even if I were living on New Athos, I would spend most of my time here."
"And when the baby comes?"
Teyla squeezed her friend's hand. "We can only harvest the field one tava bean at a time."
Jennifer smiled. "Of course. Now, about that tava bean you're having--"
Teyla was still floating among clouds of joy when Richard called her to his office. She smiled as she walked through Ops, nodding to Mita, Joran, Cela, and several other Athosians manning stations. The flu epidemic was finally behind them, but her people had proven so useful that Rodney continued to use them for non-critical functions. Pride filled her at the respect her people had been given from the scientists and technicians of Atlantis who were now available to focus on critical projects and to have occasional days off.
"You wished to see me?"
"Yes, please," Richard gestured toward a chair, "have a seat." He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "The Lucian Alliance is rumored to be gearing up for another attack, and the IOA is considering recalling Atlantis."
"They cannot! The Coalition is not strong enough yet to defend the people of this galaxy against the Wraith. Without Atlantis, we will never be free."
"I know. And General O'Neill knows. We just have to convince the IOA. Again." Richard heaved a deep sigh. "And I can do that, but it's going to take days of talks. I've been called back to Earth. I leave in a few hours, but I have too much to do before I go. I can't get away for today's meeting. I need you to go."
"I would be honored to do so," Teyla said. "I am certain the Athosian council can function without me this once."
"As we discussed, we stand against a trade embargo on the Elsee'q. If they choose to not join the Coalition or to provide sanctuary to Wraith worshippers, that is their right as a sovereign world, just as it is the right of the Coalition member-worlds to do business with them or not. I will leave judgments on any other agenda items to your discretion."
"Thank you, Richard." Teyla shifted with as much dignity as she could until she found the right position to leverage herself out of the chair. "I appreciate the trust you place in me."
Richard stood, clasping his hands behind his back. "There's no one I would rather have representing us."
Teyla acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a smile. "Will your trip be long?"
"I expect to be back in a month. I think the talks will last about a week, and then it will take another three weeks to travel back, assuming the Daedalus or Apollo is available." Richard shook his head and gave her a grim smile. "The last time I left Colonel Sheppard in charge--"
"The gate exploded," Teyla finished. "I remember. I will endeavor to keep the city intact until you return."
She glanced out the window at the Wall of Time, as Rodney liked to call it -- a collection of time pieces programmed to show the local time of Atlantis' closest allies with the central clock displaying the official Coalition Standard Time.
"I must go," she said. "The meeting begins in an hour. Safe journeys, Richard."
"Thank you, Teyla. Good luck."
After visiting the daycare to arrange for Torren's care for the next several hours, Teyla went to her quarters to don appropriate "ambassador" attire -- a top and pants made of Mishakan silk in swirling jewel tones from rare letin shell extract, and a long flowing coat of indigo skirsk hide. She gathered her satchel filled with necessary items -- her data pad, a couple bottles of water, a stitching kit, hand cleanser, hairbrush, throwing knife, heartburn tablets, a bag of rapoi nuts, two chocolate bars, and lip stain -- and slipped on her sandals, checking her appearance before heading to the gate room where John and a team of Marines were waiting.
John arched a brow at her. "You look formidable."
"Then I have achieved my goal." Teyla smoothed her jacket as the dialing sequence began. "Did you have much time to prepare for Mr. Woolsey's departure?"
"I was there when he got the call during the morning data burst. And I was planning on going before he told me you were taking his place." John grinned at her. "You used to be more subtle."
Teyla sighed as she fell in behind the Marines. "I know. Pregnancy does not agree with my brain."
As they emerged on Yorliba, Teyla lifted her face to the warm autumn sun and breathed in air thick with rich loam, ripening fruit, and freshly-cut wheat. She bowed her head for a moment, centering herself, and followed John toward the hastily constructed Coalition meeting hall where the ambassadors from the other seventy-two member-worlds were milling.
After exchanging pleasantries with those nearest her, Teyla took a seat at Atlantis' table while John moved to talk to Ronon as the Marines fanned out to sweep the area. She scanned the room, nodding to those she knew, and offering a smile to Halling who stared back at her in surprise. Pressia, the ambassador from Manara, stumbled slightly as she passed and heaved her bags onto the adjacent table. She gave Teyla a quizzical look, glanced to Halling, and sat down.
"Peace and prosperity to you, Pressia," Teyla said.
"Prosperity and peace to you, Teyla Emmagan." Pressia shuffled through the meeting agenda. "I was not expecting to see you today. Is Mr. Woolsey unwell?"
"He had other matters to attend today. I see Manara's proposal to establish a Coalition trade currency is on today's agenda."
"Yes. I am to speak before the Council." Pressia flashed a hesitant smile. "I am nervous."
"You have no need. Your arguments have always been clear and logical. You will do fine."
"Ambassador Pressia," Council Chief Brin called. "May we speak?"
"Of course."
As Pressia moved to the speaker's podium, Teyla read through the rest of the meeting agenda. The chatter in her earpiece increased, and she turned to look at John as he and Ronon moved to the doorway to speak with the Marine team leader. John's eyes blazed. He leaned forward, his expression intense while he questioned the Marine.
A warning tingle raced up Teyla's spine.
"Teyla."
She tapped her earpiece. "What is wrong?"
"Scanners just picked up a trace of explosives. We need to clear the building."
"Very well. I will notify the council chief."
Teyla stood and headed to where Chief Brin and Pressia were deep in conversation. She never heard the explosion.
Onward to part 2
Author: wildcat88
Genre: Friendship
Prompt: Terrorism
Word Count: ~17,500
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Atlantis must pick up the pieces after returning to Pegasus from an extended absence in the Milky Way. However, reclaiming their place in the Coalition will not be easy. The galaxy has changed, and not every change is visible.
Notes: Many thanks to my fabulous betas, everybetty and kristen999 who made this immeasurably better. All faults mine.
Art by danceswithgary
The Child of Fear
Teyla stood, keeping her expression neutrally pleasant, and pressed her fingertips together as she bowed first her head and then her entire upper body in the Zhuliskan custom. She held the bow until the ambassador and her entourage passed, relaxing only after the room had cleared.
"Excellent work, Teyla." Richard Woolsey removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. "We couldn't have done this without you."
"Thank you, Mr. Woolsey."
"Richard, please." He sank onto the bench in the center of the stone railing where they had pled their case for the past fourteen hours. "After six weeks of negotiations, I'm done with formalities." He scrubbed his hands over his face, his shoulders slumped. "God, I'm tired."
Teyla blinked in surprise at the rare admission. "I, too, am ready to return home. We have visited many beautiful worlds, but it has been too long since I have seen my son."
"Where are we today?"
She smiled as she gathered her belongings. "Zhulisk. And Pammoi before that and Q'o before that and--"
"And some other planet before that. We've definitely made the rounds. I've groveled more than even I thought possible." Richard slid a folder into his case, tugged and smoothed his jacket, and followed her out of the communal hall. "At least the Coalition has agreed to give us full member status."
"But not military authority." Teyla nodded to Sergeant Kinsey and Corporal Mayweather who fell in step with them as they headed to the Ancestral Ring.
Richard grinned wryly. "Somehow I doubt Colonel Sheppard will mind."
Teyla shared his smile for a moment before shaking her head. "It is a sign of their continued mistrust." She looked over her shoulder at the village, one of the few untouched by the Wraith's fury during Atlantis' two-year disappearance to the Milky Way galaxy. "I fear we have only begun to feel the repercussions."
But when they arrived home, the chaos of the gateroom filled her with such a sense of normalcy that she couldn't hold back a laugh. Rodney was gesturing wildly, his face scorching red as he ranted at anyone who would listen. Radek had his nose pressed to his monitor. Chuck and Amanda were frowning and pretending to study a display. Airman Simmons and Corporal Wainwright were scrubbing green goop from the gateroom floor while a team of scientists evaluated the walls with various scanners. John was leaning on the balcony overhang, chin propped on one fist while he grimaced at the data pad he held in the other.
"Problems, Colonel?" Richard asked, climbing the main staircase toward Ops.
John glanced up and grinned. "Nope. How were the negotiations?"
"Ever had a root canal?"
"Ah." John glowered at the pad and poked it hard. "Remind me again why I let Lorne transfer."
"You didn't. Carter took him." Rodney glared at the nearest technician. "Run the diagnostic again."
"But--"
"It is not minus twelve in here, no matter which temperature scale you're using. Fix it." Rodney stomped over to John's side. "Imbeciles, every one of them."
"Doctor McKay, please refrain from belittling everyone," Richard said when he passed by on the way to his office. "Don't make me have that discussion with you again."
"It's not belittling. It's the truth," Rodney called after him before turning to Teyla. "What's his problem?"
"He is tired, as we all are." She locked gazes with Rodney and arched a brow. "And you were belittling. Do not make me have that discussion with you, either."
Rodney's eyes widened and he unconsciously rubbed the spot on his arm where her bantos rod usually landed. "Fine."
She turned to John. "Major Teldy will make a fine second-in-command, just as Major Lorne will make an excellent Executive Officer for Colonel Carter."
"Yes, they will." John folded the pad against his chest as he crossed his arms. "How were the negotiations really?"
"Exhausting. Leaving as we did cost us friends, and the extent of our unexplained disappearance has left many worlds doubting our reliability."
"But we're back in," John said.
"Yes, we are."
His eyes narrowed. "But not in charge of the military."
"No." Teyla leaned against a pillar, the weight of failure pressing down on her shoulders. "They are not convinced that we are here to stay."
"You mean the Genii are still running the show?" Rodney asked. "Have they met those people? I wouldn't trust them with my lunch money, much less the security of the entire galaxy against the Wraith."
"The Genii have no love for the Wraith," Teyla reminded him. "They are not as well equipped as Atlantis, but they also have no other ties."
"You know we didn't have a choice," John said.
Teyla squeezed his arm. "I know why you did it, and I supported your decision. However, we did abandon these people when we left and the Wraith realized it. Thousands died in the resulting cullings. We promised to protect them, and we did not. They are not willing to put their trust in us again."
"Can't say that I blame them." John huffed a laugh. "Can't say that I'm disappointed either. It will be nice to go back to exploring the galaxy again."
A yawn caught Teyla by surprise, and she grinned sheepishly. "I believe a hot bath and a good night's sleep are necessary. I will see you tomorrow at staff meeting."
"Don't forget to pick up Torren from the infirmary," Rodney said.
Teyla whirled. "The infirmary? Why?"
"Jennifer is keeping him while Kanaan is away."
"Kanaan is not here?" Teyla rubbed at the headache throbbing between her eyes. "Where has he gone?"
Rodney shrugged and looked at John who said, "New Athos, I think. Halling dialed in and asked to speak to him. After they talked for a few minutes, Kanaan grabbed his stuff and headed out. Some kind of council meeting."
Teyla smiled to herself as she walked down the main stairs toward the infirmary. She had always known that Kanaan had leadership potential. Since they had returned from Earth, he had developed an interest in the governance of their people, especially now that they were joining other surviving cultures on a world previously culled to extinction. A council of leaders from each society had been formed, and Kanaan had been chosen to represent Athos.
She heard her son's giggles before she walked into the infirmary. Captain Ruiz had a tight grip on the back of Torren's clothing and was flying him around the room like a jumper. The captain came to an abrupt stop above a gurney and dropped Torren who bounced on his stomach and shrieked with laughter.
"Look who's here," Captain Ruiz said.
Torren twisted in a way only the young can. "Mama!" He pushed to his knees and reached for her.
"Hello, vrooshen." Teyla scooped him up and kissed him until he giggled and pushed her away. "You do not look like a boy who is ready for sleep."
"No. Fly."
"It seems you share more with Uncle John than just your name." Teyla turned to Ruiz. "Thank you for caring for him."
"Anytime, ma'am. I had a few minutes before my follow-up scan," Ruiz gestured at the heavy plastic boot on his foot, "and Doctor Keller asked me to look after him while she tended to a patient with the flu or something." He wrinkled his nose. "Believe me, I got the better deal. He's a great kid."
"I think so as well, but I am biased," Teyla said. "Please thank Doctor Keller for me when she returns."
Torren talked the entire trek from the infirmary to the transporter and from the transporter to their quarters, his chatter a strange mix of English, Athosian, Satedan, Czech, French, and a few other words that made her decide to limit his exposure to Marines. By the time she bathed and changed him into his sleepwear, his chin was nodding toward his chest. After tucking him into bed, she ran a hot bubble bath for herself, added an extra dose of oils, and lit several candles. She sank to her nose with a sigh as the door opened.
Kanaan entered in silence, his weary face softening when he spotted Torren. He set his bag on the floor and bent to kiss their son's head before glancing her way. "Welcome back."
Teyla waved him into the bathing area and waited until he shut the door before saying, "It is good to be home."
Something intangible flickered over his face and was gone. "Were the negotiations successful?"
"As successful as they can be right now. How was the council meeting?"
Kanaan's smile was wide and genuine. "Good. We finally have a name for our new world -- Altera."
"Altera?" Teyla's brows shot up. "In honor of the Ancestors?"
He sat on the edge of the tub, running his fingers mindlessly through the bubbles. "Yes. It is fitting, is it not? So many of their children coming together on one world. Even the Satedans agreed."
Teyla gaped at him. "The Satedans have joined us? Halling said they were uninterested. When did they change their minds?"
Kanaan stood and dried his hands on a towel. "Halling and I approached them again a few days ago. The few who survived the Wraith attack on Belkan relocated to Manara with the rest of their people. We--convinced them of the advantages of joining us."
She studied his face, and for a moment didn't recognize him. "What are you not saying?"
"We have let others chart our course for too long." He met and held her gaze. "We will no longer be terrorized and slaughtered like dumb loprem. We will fight the Wraith to our last breath." He exhaled noisily and began to pace. "Seeing Earth opened my eyes to the possibilities we have. We can achieve everything they have and more given the chance."
"And you are planning to take that chance, regardless of the cost."
"Have we not already paid that cost? How many died in the culling that took your father? How many died at Michael's hand?" Kanaan spit the name with all the bitterness it deserved. "Our people are almost extinct, Teyla. Satedans outnumber us as it is."
"And if we are reckless, the Wraith will destroy us completely." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "I do not disagree with you. I left our people years ago to join the fight against the Wraith. But we must be wise when we battle."
"We will be. The Satedans have agreed to coordinate the training of a militia, not just for Altera but for every member world of the Coalition."
"To battle the Wraith will take more than a handful of warriors."
Kanaan glanced away as that inscrutable expression returned. "We have other plans as well." He stretched his arms over his head as a huge yawn overtook him. "Will you be done soon? I reek of tarniq smoke and fried tuttleroot."
Teyla flicked her foot, sending a spray of bubbles over his face. His eyes widened in surprise, and his mouth slowly curled into a smile as he pulled his shirt over his head.
xxx
Ronon slammed the tankard on the table and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "So, how drunk were you when you agreed to this?"
"I was not drunk," Solen answered as he refilled Ronon's glass. "Knew what I was doing."
Ronon gave him a level stare. "The Solen Sincha I knew would die before getting involved in politics."
"Things change, Ronon. Things have changed." Solen wrapped his meaty hands around the bottle of ale and took a long drink. "I barely escaped the Belkan culling. Most of our people didn't. We're down to less than a hundred now."
"I know that." Ronon stared into his beer as the rage boiled inside. "Wish I'd been there."
"I don't. I'm glad you weren't there." Solen finished the bottle and heaved it toward the wall, a satisfied grin appearing when the glass shattered. "Because we need you now."
Ronon knew that tone. He pushed his glass away and leaned back, waiting. Whatever Solen was working toward wasn't going to be easy. Solen stretched, belched, and opened another bottle, gulping the foam that spewed from the top. Ronon narrowed his eyes as he watched. Patience in Solen was as unusual as silence in McKay.
"You're a leader, Ronon, and we need leaders."
"No."
Solen snorted a laugh. "You don't even know what I'm going to ask."
"Doesn't matter."
"It might." Solen glanced around the tiny tavern before locking eyes with Ronon, his customary humor vanishing completely. "You fought the Wraith for years as a runner. You know their tactics and their weaknesses." Solen's eyes blazed. "Teach us."
"Teach?" Ronon sat up straight. "Teach who?"
"The militia we are forming." Solen looked over his shoulders again and leaned forward. "We aren't going to let anyone have control over us anymore. We want to defend ourselves." A calculating smile appeared. "And we want the best to show us how to do it."
Ronon cocked his head to the side, studying his old friend. Solen's gaze was too steady, his movements too controlled -- he was hiding something. "What else?"
Solen frowned. "What else? Isn't that enough?"
"I mean, what are you not saying?"
"So much," Solen waved his arms wide, "this world couldn't hold it."
Ronon fought the urge to roll his eyes. Solen's ability to exaggerate was trumped only by his ability to drink, but experience had taught Ronon that some nugget of truth was usually hidden in the bluster. Uncovering it took time.
"This is our chance, Ronon. Our chance to avenge Sateda, to rid ourselves of the Wraith. A chance for peace and safety." Solen chugged the rest of his beer and tossed the bottle at the fire, making the flames dance. "A chance for future Satedans."
Ronon folded his arms over his chest. "What future Satedans? Our people are blending with the other refugees on your new world. Our ways will be lost."
"But our people will live." Solen's face knotted in pain. "And they will carry Sateda in their hearts."
Ronon suspected he was getting close to that nugget. "Who was she?"
Solen jerked back. "Who?"
Ronon kept his gaze gentle as he waited. For a moment, raw grief ravaged Solen's expression. Then it was gone, replaced with pure hatred.
"Kera died in the Belkan culling," Solen spat. "She was carrying our first child."
Ronon closed his eyes, knowing how empty condolences were. "And you want to fight in their memory."
"Yes!" Solen took a deep breath and waved at the servant girl. "Isn't that why you do it?"
Ronon nodded. "But you need to know it won't get rid of the hurt. It only makes it worse."
Solen ordered two plates of food and another round of drinks, and then said, "I don't care. I have to do something. Will you help us? Help me?"
The reasoning was sound, but something in Ronon's gut told him he didn't have the whole story yet. "Let me think on it."
Solen's lip curled in derision. "You mean, let you ask your masters on Atlantis for permission."
Ronon leaped to his feet and planted his hands on the table, leaning into Solen's face. "I have no masters."
Something flickered behind Solen's eyes, but he smiled and held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I know they are your friends. It's just you used to be a lot more decisive."
"You mean reckless." Ronon sat down and stabbed a fork into the plate of steaming meat and vegetables the girl set before him. "Like you said, I learned a lot when I was running." He took a sip of beer. "My people can help, you know."
That flicker again. "Your people?"
"Atlantis. They've got guns and stuff." Ronon grinned. "You should see the explosives."
Solen grinned in return and held up his bottle. "Here's to friends with explosives."
"Here's to the end of the Wraith."
Ronon smacked his glass against Solen's and gulped until it was empty. He would talk it over with Sheppard, but he already knew his answer. He would train not just a militia, but warriors, and together they would bring the Wraith to their knees.
xxx
John bolted upright, heart pounding, choking back the scream exploding inside his chest. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes as he gasped for air and slumped back on the bed when his quarters came into focus. Damn that dream; it always ended the same: Ronon grinning wryly at Todd as he flips the detonator switch that destroys Michael's lab.
The dreams had started after his little trip into the future, thanks to Hologram McKay's vivid storytelling. But after rescuing Teyla and killing Michael, the dreams had stopped. Came with less frequency, anyway. As John rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom to splash water on his face, he acknowledged the--weirdness that so much of what McKay had told him had come true -- Woolsey running Atlantis, Carter commanding her own ship, McKay and Keller dating, and now Ronon. It was freaky.
And when Ronon left the team last month to train the Coalition militia the dreams returned with a vengeance -- Teyla screaming his name as Michael rips the life out of her, McKay growing old and crumbling to dust, but especially Ronon's blaze of glory.
John squinted at his watch -- 4:48 in the morning. His alarm was set for 6:00, but he'd never be able to go back to sleep now. He slipped into his sweats and running shoes, grabbed his earwig, and ignored the ache of loneliness as he headed to the east pier alone. He nodded to Corporal Sanderson as she jogged by while he stretched. The engineers had done a fine job with the track they had installed -- a six mile course that started at the pier, ran past Weir Tower, between the Grodin and Ford Spires, and down Beckett Alley before looping back through the Athosian Gardens to the pier.
He shook out his arms and legs, bobbed his head from side to side, and trotted down the track to warm up. Muscles humming, he sped up, hoping to clear his mind, but as he found his rhythm, his thoughts continued to roil. The fight to get Atlantis back to Pegasus had been long, and the Lucian Alliance attack had almost derailed it completely. John refused to consider what might have been had McKay actually been allowed to finish dialing the Destiny. As it was, Atlantis would not receive the full staff that had been promised until the Alliance was no longer a threat.
The image from the nightmare had been seared into his brain and, as in his dream, John began to run faster. Legs and arms pumping, chest heaving, sprinting toward something he would never reach. Muscles strained. His heart galloped. Lungs struggled to pull in enough oxygen. But he continued to push himself. Spots filled his vision. His sides cramped. His quads turned to jelly.
"Sheppard, come in."
"Shit." John stumbled to a stop, bracing a hand against the nearest building as he gasped for air.
"Sheppard?"
"What..." John slid to the ground and leaned his head back. "--is it-- Rodney?"
"What's wrong with you?"
John closed his eyes. "McKay."
"I need you in Ops."
Alarm raced up John's spine, and he sat up straight. "What's wrong?"
McKay's sigh roared through John's radio. "We're not under attack. I just -- Damn it. Hold on." Something metal clanged, and McKay cursed a blue streak then shouted at someone to finish whatever they were doing and get out. "Incompetent-- worthless-- Sheppard, you still there?"
"Still here, Rodney."
Another metallic crash and a sigh. "Just-- get up here."
"On my way."
John pushed to his feet, grimacing as every muscle shrieked its displeasure at the abuse he'd heaped on it. He made his way to the nearest transporter and minutes later strolled into Operations -- the completely unmanned Operations control room.
"What the hell?" John glanced around the dimly lit Atrium and catwalks. "McKay?"
"Here." A hand waved from behind a panel. "It's about time."
"Where is everyone?"
McKay peeked over the console. "Sick. That's why I called you. I need some help."
"They're all sick?"
"The flu." McKay stood, holding a coffee cup in one hand and several crystals in the other. "Jennifer says about half the expedition is down with it. The few people I have still functioning are spread thin, and I have to finish reprogramming this panel before our guests show up."
"Fine. What do you need?"
"Keep an eye on environmental controls. We've had several reports of fluctuating temperatures in chem labs. Zelenka is running diagnostics on it but you'll have to adjust it manually until he figures out what's wrong. Oh, and answer any calls that come in."
John studied the consoles that Chuck and Amelia usually manned. Read-outs in Ancient and English scrolled continuously. A warning light flashed, but before he could identify the problem, another one went off. Then the comms panel lit up. John raked a hand through his hair, blew out a breath, and got to work.
Two hours later, he was staring cross-eyed at the display while Zelenka and McKay yelled at each other about fried circuitry and a barren supply inventory. The tread of boots and a gentle throat clearing shook John from his stupor, and he glanced up to find Chuck, surgical mask firmly in place and antibacterial everything in both arms, at his elbow.
"Sergeant."
"Good morning, Colonel. Is Penny still sick?"
John winced as he stood, pressing both hands to his back to work out the kinks. "I don't know who Penny is but if she's night shift, then yes. You got this?"
"Yes, sir." Chuck set a box of tissues and a can of Lysol on the console before pulling out wipes to scrub the chair and controls. "Amelia will be here as soon as Doctor Keller finishes with her."
McKay turned from his project, his face scrunched with worry. "Banks is sick, too?"
Chuck nodded. "The flu."
"Damn it. I'm running out of people. As soon as one gets well, two more come down with it. Jennifer says she's never seen anything like it -- knocks you on your ass for days. Before they can get it under control, it mutates and everybody gets it again."
"I know," John said. "The SGC is working on it, too, along with Beckett and Keller. They'll figure it out." He checked his watch and scowled. "The meeting starts in less than an hour."
"Go." McKay gave a dismissive wave to John and turned back to his console. "Try it again, Radek."
"You're supposed to be there, too, Rodney."
McKay's death glare had always been good, but today's was spectacular. "Go."
"Going."
John hurried to his quarters and hit the shower, sighing as the hot water cascaded over his head and shoulders, and down his back, the gentle massage loosening the knots stress had tied. After shaving and donning a fresh uniform, he headed to the Mess for a quick bite. He filled a tray and looked around. Seating was plentiful with so many people ill, but he was slightly depressed to not spot a single person he knew well enough to share a meal with.
"Unc' John!"
John squinted into the dawn that covered the balcony, seeing only silhouettes but knowing the small body that belonged to that squeal was out there somewhere. When he stepped outside, his shin was attacked by a wriggling two-year-old.
"Up!"
"Torren." Kanaan sounded like his patience was at an end. "Be seated."
"But--"
"Torren." One of the silhouettes moved and John's leg was suddenly free. "My apologies, Colonel. Please, join us."
John blinked away the sun's afterimage and took a seat. "Thanks." He grinned at his favorite fan. "How are you, bud?"
"Hungry."
Kanaan shook his head. "Teyla is on her way." He looked at his son. "We are waiting for her."
"She's sick," Torren added.
John paused, a fork of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth. "The flu?"
"I do not believe so. The symptoms are different." His eyes narrowed, and he frowned as he studied John. "Is something wrong, Colonel? You appear worried."
"It's this damn flu. People keep getting sick. We're short-staffed, and it's beginning to affect city operations."
Kanaan's expression flickered and then he touched Torren's leg. "Be still. She will be here soon." He turned back to John. "I understood that more personnel would be coming soon."
John sighed and sipped his coffee. "Earth is still dealing with the Lucian Alliance threat. The bombing at Homeworld Security really rattled them. Plus they can't seem to find a way to fight this flu."
"Perhaps my people can help."
"How?"
Kanaan sat back, arms folded over his chest, tapping a finger to his chin. "So far, Teyla and I have not become sick. She told me about your reaction to Kirsan Fever a couple of years ago. We could be resistant to the flu as well." He leaned forward, eyes sparkling with intensity. "If you are willing to teach us, we could learn the city's systems so the stations would not go unmanned when someone is ill." He paused, his features clouding. "If the Wraith were to attack while the city is vulnerable--"
John flashed back to the early days, when the Athosians were living on Atlantis and had been falsely accused of colluding with the Wraith. The wound had healed but the scar was still there.
"If you do not wish our help--"
"It's not that." John nibbled on a slice of bacon, not wanting to make the same mistake again. "It's not my decision to make. Let me talk it over with McKay and Woolsey. We may not have enough excess personnel to train you. I'll let you know what we decide."
"Very well. I will also discuss it with Teyla and Halling, as well as the council."
Torren bounced in his seat. "Mama!"
"Good morning," Teyla said with a smile as she pressed her forehead to Kanaan's and caressed Torren's face. "Hello, John. I am pleased you are joining us."
"Hey, Teyla. Are you feeling better?" John asked.
"Much better, thank you." She rested a hand on her stomach, and her eyes widened when she glanced at his tray. "Autress berries?" She swatted Kanaan's arm. "Why did you not tell me?"
Kanaan stared at her back as she hurried to the breakfast line. "She hates autress berries."
xxx
"No, no, no." Rodney fought the urge to shove the woman aside and do it himself. "Look, Mina--"
"Mita."
"What?"
"My name is Mita." She drew herself to her full height, almost to Rodney's shoulder. "Mita."
"Fine. Whatever. How many times do I have to tell you that you can't reroute power through that section? It will overload the conduits."
"You have said it many times yet I still do not understand why."
Rodney opened his mouth then snapped it shut again. Patience, Teyla had said. What he really needed was an IV of caffeine in one arm and antibiotics in the other. His head was stuffy, his chest ached, and he was certain he felt bumps behind his knees, growing by the minute. Probably tumors. He groaned at the thought.
"Are you unwell, Doctor?" Mita asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am." Rodney blew his nose for the hundred and twelfth time that morning, and pinched the bridge of his nose as the jackhammer behind his eyes ratcheted up another notch. "I'm dying and no one cares."
"Dying?" Mita's eyes went wide. "Truly?"
"Well, maybe not at this exact moment. Feels like it, though."
"Should I call Doctor Keller?"
"No," he moaned. "She'll just give me another shot of steroids and tell me to suck it up."
"But if you are ill--"
Rodney huffed a sigh. "Everyone is ill. That's why you're here, remember?"
Her face crumpled. "And I am failing you. Perhaps another could learn faster. I will speak with Kanaan--"
"Then I'd have to spend another month teaching this to someone else." Rodney took a seat when the room began to spin. "Have you been studying the schematics I gave you?"
"You gave me no schematics."
"Of course I did. They are on the tablet--" Rodney glanced at the data pad lying on the console behind them. "--over there." He handed it to her, ignoring her knowing smile. "You have to understand the load balance that the different conduits can tolerate."
While Mita read through the information with practiced ease, Rodney leaned his head back and closed his eyes, fighting the cough building in his chest. When Sheppard had brought Kanaan's offer to the table six weeks ago, Rodney had laughed and gone back to work. Yet as the sickness continued to ravage the expedition, he was forced to consider the option. The SGC was still working on a cure, and they were hesitant to rotate personnel until they were sure this alien bug wouldn't put Earth at risk. The Daedalus and Apollo continued to make supply runs but all contact was over the radio.
Teyla, Kanaan, Torren, Ronon -- none of the Pegasus natives had become sick. Rodney's suspicious nature told him that was significant, but he was too foggy, and too busy, to think it through. The damn flu was eating his brain cells.
"Doctor?"
Rodney opened his eyes to find Mita watching him, her face filled with concerned. "What now?" he asked.
She handed him a cup of coffee. "I believe you have a meeting."
He jerked forward and checked his watch. "It's after 9:00. How did that happen?" He snatched the coffee from her hand and downed it in a gulp. "Where is my--"
Mita held out his tablet and another cup.
Rodney grabbed both and staggered toward the door, wondering how he'd fallen asleep and why he hadn't gotten an assistant before now. Well, technically Mita wasn't his assistant; she was a trainee, a good one if he were honest. For someone who'd never used a computer until a month ago, Mita had shown an innate grasp of the concept. She had already mastered communications so they had moved on to some of the more critical systems.
When he reached the conference room, Rodney sat in the first chair he reached and slumped down, propping an elbow on the table and resting his head on it. With red-rimmed eyes and a three-day growth of beard, Sheppard looked as bad as Rodney felt. Woolsey was his normal, buttoned-down self, but his face was waxen except for the red splotches on his cheeks. Only Teyla was the picture of health, her pregnancy adding to her radiance.
Woolsey discretely blew his nose and took a sip of something steaming and likely fragrant, if Rodney were able to smell it or anything else. "Good morning." Woolsey's voice was a gravelly scratch. He took another drink and cleared his throat, but it didn't help. "Doctor Keller will be here shortly, but let's get started. Doctor McKay, how is the training program coming along?"
Rodney didn't bother to raise his head. "Slowly." He glanced at Teyla who gave him an encouraging smile. "The Athosians are adequate, but they don't know the fundamentals."
"What can my people do to improve?" Teyla asked.
"Nothing." Rodney rubbed his temple, trying to wish away the headache. "The people who do these jobs normally are highly educated. They've spent a lot of years learning and working on systems like these -- okay, not like these, but with highly advanced technology -- and they are barely competent. There's no way your people can catch up at the rate we need them to."
Teyla tapped on her tablet, reading whatever she'd called up. "Would extending their hours be of benefit? Many are working ten-hour shifts. Perhaps--"
"Who do we have off world?" Sheppard's eyes were focused on the doors, his head cocked to the side.
"No one," Woolsey said. "Why?"
"Gate just activated." Sheppard clicked his radio. "Sheppard to Ops. What's going on?" His face knotted and then a smile broke out. "Send him in."
Moments later the doors opened and Ronon strode in. "Hey." He stopped and looked around the table. "It's true then."
"What's true?" Sheppard asked.
"That there's a sickness out of control here." Ronon dropped in the chair next to Sheppard. "You look like shit."
Sheppard sniffed then groaned. "Feel like it. What's brings you to town?"
All traces of humor disappeared from Ronon's face. "Got a problem. We've been hearing rumors about attacks on Coalition meetings. Nothing solid we could follow though. We increased security at the meetings. A couple of our patrols were hit last week. Minor injuries. Then last night a bomb went off during an invitation conference with the Bourjos. Two of Solen's men were wounded."
Teyla leaned forward. "And Solen?"
"Shrapnel in the shoulder. Lost a lot of blood. Beckett's working on him."
Woolsey pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Have you tracked down the source of the rumors?"
"Still working on it."
"We don't have anybody we can spare, big guy," Sheppard said. "We're running a skeleton crew as it is."
"Don't need people." Ronon turned to Woolsey. "We need weapons."
Woolsey shook his head. "We can't--"
"Look, like you said, you're running a skeleton crew. I know you don't like it, but right now, my people are the ones providing protection for the Coalition."
Rodney coughed, a deep rattle that ripped at his vocal cords. "What happened to the Genii?"
"They joined the militia." Ronon's eyes gleamed with pride then dimmed. "But whoever is behind this is patient and well trained."
"Wraith worshipers?" Sheppard asked.
"Don't think so. We haven't run into Wraith weaponry."
"Well, who else would be behind terrorist attacks on the Coalition?" Rodney sipped his coffee and grimaced at the thick, cold liquid. "Ew."
"Don't know," Ronon said. "But I'm gonna find out." He looked back at Woolsey. "I need those weapons."
Woolsey sighed. "And I need--"
The doors flew open and Jennifer rushed in. "I apologize for being late." Hair disheveled and dark circles under her eyes, she scurried to a chair and took a deep breath. "I finally discovered something about the flu virus."
"A cure?" Woolsey asked.
Jennifer smiled. "Not yet, but we're close now that we've discovered its origins." Her gaze swept the room. "The virus has been genetically modified."
Woolsey frowned. "What are you saying?"
"The mutations are not natural." She glanced around again. "It's been programmed. To target us."
Rodney sat up straight and gripped the edge of the table when his vision swam. "Are you sure?"
"Positive. I ran the results four times, sent them to the SGC for confirmation and had Carson double check."
"Let me get this straight," Sheppard said. "Someone created a biological weapon, a virus that attacks humans and then mutates before it can be cured."
Jennifer's lips pressed into a thin line. "Not just any humans, Colonel. Humans from Earth."
"Is such a thing possible," Teyla asked.
"Yes," Jennifer said. "There are subtle differences in our bodies' chemical makeup that tie us to the world of our ancestry."
"And someone found a way to target those differences?" Rodney gaped at her. "My God. Do you understand the implications of that?"
Jennifer nodded. "We're lucky they chose the flu."
Ronon looked at Rodney and then Jennifer. "You saying that they could release some kind of virus that would only kill certain people?"
"Exactly." Rodney pushed out of his chair and began to pace. "These-- terrorists could release a toxin in a crowd and only kill the Earthlings." He turned to Ronon. "Or the Satedans or Athosians. Anyone really."
"Terrorists?" Teyla asked. "Do you believe the creators of the flu are also responsible for the attacks on Ronon's militia?"
Sheppard exchanged glances with Ronon. "It's possible."
"Makes sense," Ronon added. "Depletes the militia, and it keeps Atlantis' military too thin and weak to help."
"To what purpose?" Teyla rested her hands on her growing abdomen. "Who has reason to destroy the Coalition?"
"And why the flu?" Woolsey asked.
Jennifer's face scrunched in confusion. "What do you mean?"
Woolsey dabbed at his nose. "I mean, why not something lethal? Why not a much deadlier virus like Doctor McKay mentioned. Why just make us sick?"
"And who has the knowledge to do it?" Rodney asked. "Creating a bioweapon isn't something your everyday farmer knows how to do."
Sheppard looked to Woolsey. "We need to find out and stop them before they create something worse."
Woolsey bowed his head for a moment and then turned to Ronon. "What kind of weapons do you need?"
xxx
Teyla tugged her blouse into place and sat back in the bed, allowing the calm of the infirmary to lull her into a light, meditative state, one that was quickly broken when Jennifer returned and pulled back the curtain.
"Everything looks great, Teyla. Your baby is developing exactly as expected and has a strong heartbeat."
Teyla sucked in a quick breath, pressing her hand to her side. "And quite a kick."
"Do you want to know what you're having?" Jennifer asked, eyes shining.
"Yes." Teyla held up a hand. "No. I mean, yes."
Jennifer laughed. "Do you want to have Kanaan here?"
"Kanaan is on New Athos." Teyla glanced away and then looked back with a smile. "I always thought he would be a good leader, and I have been proven correct."
"But he's away a lot."
"I had hoped to share this time with him since we were not permitted it with Torren." Teyla sighed and smoothed her hands over her belly. "But the demands of leadership are great."
Jennifer drew up a chair. "Have you thought about moving to New Athos with him? Not that I want you to leave."
"I know, and I have considered it, especially since I am on leave again from my team. But Mr. Woolsey does not have the time to represent Atlantis as well as govern it. I am the junior Lantean ambassador. Even if I were living on New Athos, I would spend most of my time here."
"And when the baby comes?"
Teyla squeezed her friend's hand. "We can only harvest the field one tava bean at a time."
Jennifer smiled. "Of course. Now, about that tava bean you're having--"
Teyla was still floating among clouds of joy when Richard called her to his office. She smiled as she walked through Ops, nodding to Mita, Joran, Cela, and several other Athosians manning stations. The flu epidemic was finally behind them, but her people had proven so useful that Rodney continued to use them for non-critical functions. Pride filled her at the respect her people had been given from the scientists and technicians of Atlantis who were now available to focus on critical projects and to have occasional days off.
"You wished to see me?"
"Yes, please," Richard gestured toward a chair, "have a seat." He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "The Lucian Alliance is rumored to be gearing up for another attack, and the IOA is considering recalling Atlantis."
"They cannot! The Coalition is not strong enough yet to defend the people of this galaxy against the Wraith. Without Atlantis, we will never be free."
"I know. And General O'Neill knows. We just have to convince the IOA. Again." Richard heaved a deep sigh. "And I can do that, but it's going to take days of talks. I've been called back to Earth. I leave in a few hours, but I have too much to do before I go. I can't get away for today's meeting. I need you to go."
"I would be honored to do so," Teyla said. "I am certain the Athosian council can function without me this once."
"As we discussed, we stand against a trade embargo on the Elsee'q. If they choose to not join the Coalition or to provide sanctuary to Wraith worshippers, that is their right as a sovereign world, just as it is the right of the Coalition member-worlds to do business with them or not. I will leave judgments on any other agenda items to your discretion."
"Thank you, Richard." Teyla shifted with as much dignity as she could until she found the right position to leverage herself out of the chair. "I appreciate the trust you place in me."
Richard stood, clasping his hands behind his back. "There's no one I would rather have representing us."
Teyla acknowledged the compliment with a nod and a smile. "Will your trip be long?"
"I expect to be back in a month. I think the talks will last about a week, and then it will take another three weeks to travel back, assuming the Daedalus or Apollo is available." Richard shook his head and gave her a grim smile. "The last time I left Colonel Sheppard in charge--"
"The gate exploded," Teyla finished. "I remember. I will endeavor to keep the city intact until you return."
She glanced out the window at the Wall of Time, as Rodney liked to call it -- a collection of time pieces programmed to show the local time of Atlantis' closest allies with the central clock displaying the official Coalition Standard Time.
"I must go," she said. "The meeting begins in an hour. Safe journeys, Richard."
"Thank you, Teyla. Good luck."
After visiting the daycare to arrange for Torren's care for the next several hours, Teyla went to her quarters to don appropriate "ambassador" attire -- a top and pants made of Mishakan silk in swirling jewel tones from rare letin shell extract, and a long flowing coat of indigo skirsk hide. She gathered her satchel filled with necessary items -- her data pad, a couple bottles of water, a stitching kit, hand cleanser, hairbrush, throwing knife, heartburn tablets, a bag of rapoi nuts, two chocolate bars, and lip stain -- and slipped on her sandals, checking her appearance before heading to the gate room where John and a team of Marines were waiting.
John arched a brow at her. "You look formidable."
"Then I have achieved my goal." Teyla smoothed her jacket as the dialing sequence began. "Did you have much time to prepare for Mr. Woolsey's departure?"
"I was there when he got the call during the morning data burst. And I was planning on going before he told me you were taking his place." John grinned at her. "You used to be more subtle."
Teyla sighed as she fell in behind the Marines. "I know. Pregnancy does not agree with my brain."
As they emerged on Yorliba, Teyla lifted her face to the warm autumn sun and breathed in air thick with rich loam, ripening fruit, and freshly-cut wheat. She bowed her head for a moment, centering herself, and followed John toward the hastily constructed Coalition meeting hall where the ambassadors from the other seventy-two member-worlds were milling.
After exchanging pleasantries with those nearest her, Teyla took a seat at Atlantis' table while John moved to talk to Ronon as the Marines fanned out to sweep the area. She scanned the room, nodding to those she knew, and offering a smile to Halling who stared back at her in surprise. Pressia, the ambassador from Manara, stumbled slightly as she passed and heaved her bags onto the adjacent table. She gave Teyla a quizzical look, glanced to Halling, and sat down.
"Peace and prosperity to you, Pressia," Teyla said.
"Prosperity and peace to you, Teyla Emmagan." Pressia shuffled through the meeting agenda. "I was not expecting to see you today. Is Mr. Woolsey unwell?"
"He had other matters to attend today. I see Manara's proposal to establish a Coalition trade currency is on today's agenda."
"Yes. I am to speak before the Council." Pressia flashed a hesitant smile. "I am nervous."
"You have no need. Your arguments have always been clear and logical. You will do fine."
"Ambassador Pressia," Council Chief Brin called. "May we speak?"
"Of course."
As Pressia moved to the speaker's podium, Teyla read through the rest of the meeting agenda. The chatter in her earpiece increased, and she turned to look at John as he and Ronon moved to the doorway to speak with the Marine team leader. John's eyes blazed. He leaned forward, his expression intense while he questioned the Marine.
A warning tingle raced up Teyla's spine.
"Teyla."
She tapped her earpiece. "What is wrong?"
"Scanners just picked up a trace of explosives. We need to clear the building."
"Very well. I will notify the council chief."
Teyla stood and headed to where Chief Brin and Pressia were deep in conversation. She never heard the explosion.
Onward to part 2