by Graham, Jo
Be all day about it, Kanaan thought. Yes, Torren did disrupt the work of others, and while as in any village all adults might expect to be so interrupted, it was impolite to impose too much on others’ tolerance.
“I would be honored to have coffee with you, Dr. McKay,” he said.
“Right. Sure.” McKay ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Let’s go down to the mess hall and…” He looked at Torren and smiled. “We can find a snack for you. Sure.”
Torren reached out his arms for McKay, Kanaan saw with a pang, though McKay made no attempt to take him.
Instead, Kanaan fell into step beside him. “Where is Teyla?” he asked.
“She’s handing our trading agreement with the Tricti,” McKay said as they walked down the hall. “They told us to come back today and talk about arranging for an exchange, and Teyla is the only one who can handle it.”
“I see,” Kanaan said, thoughtfully. “She is very good at such things. What will your people do when she returns to New Athos?”
McKay didn’t look at him. “Oh. Um. I’m sure it will all work out.”
Kanaan stopped at the top of the stairs, Torren on his shoulder. “She is not coming, is she?”
“I don’t know what she’s doing,” McKay said, but his eyes held the truth.
Kanaan shook his head. “There is no need to pretend. It is not a surprise to me.” He looked up at the towering ceiling, the thin windows of glass that showed endless views of whirling snow. “She has chosen her life here, and I cannot follow except at the cost of all I am.” McKay was shifting from foot to foot nervously, as though he wished he were anywhere else. Kanaan wondered if he knew why. McKay and Teyla had always been very close, and she spoke of him often, most often of all those in Atlantis. He wondered, but he was not angry. Kanaan chose his words carefully. “She said, once long ago before we walked apart, that there was someone in Atlantis, but that he did not see her…”
A furious blush began to rise from McKay’s chin to the tops of his ears. “No no no. Me and Teyla…no no no. I’m with Jennifer. I’m really seriously with Jennifer. Dr. Keller. And me and Teyla have never… It’s not like that at all.”
“I understand,” Kanaan said, and thought that he did. If the one she wanted had bound himself for life to another, why not go to a friend for solace instead?
McKay was stuck. “I mean, I like her a lot. Teyla is really great. And we’re friends and all. But not that way. Totally not that way.”
“I understand,” Kanaan said again. When he had been in Atlantis, when he had stayed here those brief months before, Teyla had spent most of her time with McKay and Ronon, the Satedan that she spoke of as a brother. He had seen her with Ronon, could not believe there was aught between them. Who else besides McKay? She had spoken often of Zelenka, but not with more than friendship. Perhaps Dr. Beckett who had been so ill. She had often told stories of him. Woolsey, even, had figured in some of her tales. There were others, of course, but she told no stories of them, did not invite them to sit with them and eat, did not encourage Kanaan to come to know them. Distant relationships, perhaps, or people Teyla did not especially like.
“But I’m really with Jennifer,” McKay continued. “Me and Teyla are just friends.”
“I believe you, doctor,” Kanaan said. He thought McKay spoke the truth, at least for his part. He might not know of any other truth. He might not know there were any other stories to tell. “Besides,” he said carefully, “We have made no lifelong oaths, Teyla and I. She is free to do as she wishes. I will release her if she but asks.”
McKay turned even redder, if that were possible. “She said you weren’t…married.”
“No,” Kanaan said quietly. “And I am not certain I would choose that if it were offered. We are very different, Teyla and I. We want different things. She will live here, and I there. That is not the best arrangement for a marriage.”
“I get that,” McKay said. “I mean, it gets complicated sometimes. Jennifer…” His voice trailed away.
Kanaan nodded. He thought he saw. Complications within complications. And yet kindness taught him how he should act. “You are a good man, Dr. McKay. And if matters should change, I know that you would be a good second father to Torren. After all, you brought him into the world, did you not?”
“Um.” McKay gulped.
Kanaan hunted for the words. He had never seen these things as Teyla did, walked between worlds and ways of people as easily as a man walks through his own field. “So many of our people are orphaned long before we are grown. We do not see that a child must have only two parents. Indeed, who can ever be certain of who a child’s father is? The more there are pledged to a child’s well being the better, for surely some of them will die before the child is grown. One cannot have too many parents.” His arm curled around Torren, who regarded him with a steady and solemn gaze. “I would know that Torren has many who care for him. It would not distress me in the least to know that you will stand as a father to him. The day may come when there is no other left to care for him besides you.”
McKay gulped again. “Of course if it came to that Jennifer and I would take care of Torren. But…”
“We will not speak of that day again, unless we must,” Kanaan said, and put his hand to McKay’s shoulder. “Come, then, if we understand one another. Let us go and wait for Teyla with your coffee.” His chin brushed against the top of Torren’s head, soft hair and warm skin. “If she will not come to New Athos, perhaps Torren can return with me for a few days, so that we may come to know one another better.”
* * *
The city was changing. Sheppard had suspected it ever since the paths he preferred for running had ended up mysteriously free of snow, sheltered under roofs that seemed broader than before, or swept clean by newly channeled winds, or even warmed underfoot to keep the ice away, steam curling away from his sneakers as he ran. He confirmed it that morning, jogging past enlisted quarters and climbing to the top of a minor tower that had been left unoccupied because it was inconveniently far from the transporters. The tower was crowned with a turreted balcony—lovely place to watch the sunrise, on a warmer world, but open to wind and weather. It should have been filled with compacted snow and ice, but he had not been entirely surprised when the hatch at the top of the stairs slid back at his approach. The light that filtered down was soft and milky, snowlight, just past dawn. Glass arched above, secure in a metal frame that came to a sharp point overhead, shedding snow even as he watched. Another sheet of snow slithered down, joining the piles at the base of the dome—along what had been the railing, he realized—and he came wondering into the gentle light.
It was still a beautiful view, the city spread beneath him, the fans and buttresses of ice catching the first sparks of morning, the horizon white with the rising sun, a pinpoint too bright to distinguish through the dazzle. The snow had stopped a while ago, and the clouds were rushing west, as though the rising sun were pushing them away. He turned slowly, watching them go, and faint light shimmered above the western horizon, the last of the aurora or lightning, it was impossible to tell which. The sunlight was startlingly warm through the glass, and he turned to face it, squinting at the dazzle of towers and ice and sea and sun.
“God, that’s gorgeous,” he said aloud, to himself, to the city. He touched one of the struts, feeling Ancient symbols under his hand, and it seemed for a second as though the city reflected his pleasure.
But there was work to do, and this new phenomenon to discuss with McKay. He gave the glittering towers a last fond glance, and headed down again.
McKay was already at breakfast by the time Sheppard had shaved and showered, his tray pushed to one side so that he could continue working on his laptop. He barely looked up at Sheppard’s approach, paused only to grab another slice of toast.
“How is it?” Sheppard asked. The cooks were doing their best with unfamiliar ingredients, but you never knew what something that looked normal was actually going to taste like.
“It’s made from tava beans,” McKay said. “It’s not bad.”
Of course, McKay liked MREs. Sheppard took a cautious bite—it had a definite tang to it, like sourdough, and a coarse, heavy texture, not half bad—and poked an orange ovoid with his fork.
“It’s an egg,” McKay said, helpfully. “Hard-boiled. Don’t ask what from.”
“Yeah.” Sheppard carved off a piece, tasted it, and decided it wasn’t bad either, just needed a little hot sauce to make it almost decent. “Listen, about the city… Is it possible that it’s—adjusting to the new conditions? That things are changing?”
“What kind of things?” McKay was still looking at his laptop, frowning slightly.
“Roofs, walkways—” Sheppard tapped the back of the screen. “Come on, Rodney, pay attention.”
McKay looked up. “Well, of course it’s possible. We already know the city is to a certain extent adaptive, and in conditions like this, it makes sense that the systems would make some changes. Zelenka’s spotted roofs that have expanded overhangs or steepening angles, new windbreaks. Typical Ancient technology.”
“You mean you already knew about this?” Sheppard asked. “You might have told somebody.”
“Zelenka was supposed to send a memo—”
“Colonel Sheppard to the gate room.” There was a note of urgency in Banks’ voice that had Sheppard on his feet before the sense of what she was saying had fully registered.
“On my way.”
Woolsey was there ahead of him, never a good sign, and Teyla was leaning close to the communications screen, speaking quickly to a wary-looking man in a homespun coat.
“Ah, Colonel,” Woolsey said. “We’ve received a very—interesting—message. From Todd.”
“How?” Sheppard felt his heart skip a beat.
“He can’t know where we are,” McKay said, in the the same moment, and Woolsey shook his head.
“He doesn’t. He left the message with people he knows we trade with. Said he wouldn’t Cull this time if they would forward it to us. Teyla is trying to get more details now, but—” Woolsey gestured to one of the secure tablets. “Todd wants to meet with you.”
“Of course he does,” McKay said. “Because he didn’t get a chance to kill us properly last time.”
Sheppard picked up the tablet, touched the screen to play the message. Todd’s face shimmered into focus, the lines of the tattoo around his eye stark against the pale skin. He’d fed, Sheppard thought, and didn’t know what he felt.
“I know you will receive this, John Sheppard,” Todd said, “and I urge you to consider it well. I have learned the location of Queen Death’s next great Culling, and I am prepared to trade that information for certain very reasonable considerations. If you meet me on the world you call Vell, I am sure we can come to an arrangement. I will be there for three days.” He bared teeth in what Sheppard was sure was a smile. “I won’t bother telling you to come alone or unarmed. But I will not shoot first. If you want this information, you will do the same.”
The screen went dark, and Sheppard looked at McKay. “Do you know the planet?”
“No, of course not,” McKay answered, already bending over a keyboard. “But I can find out. There.” He spun the screen so that the others could see. “We’ve been there, anyway. It’s one of the worlds that used to be inhabited, still has a gate—in the middle of a wide open plain, so I wouldn’t call it ideal ambush country. But I’m sure Todd’s got something in mind.”
Sheppard looked at Teyla, who turned away from the now-dark communications link. “Do those folks have any idea what Todd might want?”
“No.” Teyla shook her head. “I fear not. But he came in a small cruiser, with only a few men. I believe he is serious. But even if he were not—”
“Yes,” Woolsey said. “We can’t afford not to take the chance.”
“And he knew it,” Sheppard said, softly. “All right. Let’s get a jumper ready.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Strange Bedfellows
“Not being able to think of a better idea doesn’t make this a good one,” Rodney said.
Sheppard spared him a single harassed glance as he lowered the jumper into the gate room. It was a fair statement, and had been the first five times Rodney had made it, but he was getting a little tired of hearing it. “Since you’re not coming up with an alternative,” he said, “I think we’ll just go with Plan A.”
Behind him, Ronon laughed softly. “Until we need Plan B.”
“Rodney has a point,” Teyla began, then seemed to realize that she had said that before, too. “We do have a Plan B, do we not?”
“Of course,” Sheppard said. “OK, dialing the gate.”
The symbols lit and the wormhole whooshed open. Sheppard took a deep breath, and eased the jumper forward. He engaged the cloak as soon as they cleared the gate, braced for fire that didn’t come, and brought the jumper up and around in a quick spiral intended to put height between them and any ground fire. The plain was empty, grass the color of lilacs streaming toward the horizon, and he swung back again, circling the gate and its high stone pad.
“Anything?”
“No—wait.” Rodney touched keys, frowning at his screen. “There’s a Wraith cruiser in orbit—a little one, definitely not a hive and not even one of the big cruisers. And a shuttle on the ground about five kilometers south of the gate. I’m picking up four lifesigns—four Wraith.”
Sheppard bit his lip, bringing the jumper back to about a hundred feet. The heads-up display obligingly located the shuttle for him, just where Rodney had said, and Sheppard slowed the jumper until they were almost hovering. “Weapons?”
“Powered down,” Rodney answered. “Not that it’ll take them that long to get them working—”
“Let’s give them a call,” Sheppard said.
“Are you crazy?” Rodney didn’t even look up from his screens. “Then they’ll know exactly where we are…”
“They’re expecting us anyway,” Sheppard said. “Just do it.”
Rodney muttered something, and touched keys again. “OK.”
“Todd,” Sheppard said. “You there? It’s Sheppard.”
There was a long silence, just the hiss of the radio, and then, just as Sheppard was about to speak again, a light flashed on the HUD.
“Sheppard. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Sheppard said. “Listen, Todd. I’m going to land two kilometers north of your shuttle, and start walking. You do the same. We’ll meet in the middle.”
There was a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Agreed.”
The wind was steady at their backs as they left the jumper, the pale grass bending gracefully before them. Sheppard glanced over his shoulder to be sure they weren’t leaving a trail, but the thick stems were not as close together as they’d looked from the air, and were a lot tougher, too. He could see the dark figures of the Wraith wading through the grass, two males in the long coats, a pair of drones trailing behind. As they came together, he recognized Todd in the lead, and heard Teyla cock her P90. Todd heard it too, and bared teeth.
“So, Sheppard. I’m pleased we can have a quiet discussion.”
“You said you knew where this queen of yours was going to Cull,” Sheppard said. “I’d like to hear about that.”
Behind Todd, the other male snarled soundlessly. He was slighter than Todd, with his hair pulled up and back in one of those elaborate hairstyles that made Sheppard wonder how long it took the Wraith to get ready for a fight. Todd ignored him, however, and Sheppard tried to do the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ronon’s thumb moving on the grip of his blaster, and hoped everybody would just stay calm a little longer.
“I’m sure you would,” Todd said. “But information of such value—”
“Is worth a high price,” Sheppard interrupted. “Except that it probably isn’t, given our track record. The last few times you’ve give
n us anything—well, it never works out quite the way you said.”
Todd tipped his head to one side, the movement not quite a shrug, and made a sound like humming. “You cannot really complain about our last dealings.”
“Much.”
“You could hardly expect me to stay.”
“Cut to the chase,” Sheppard said, and the Wraith tipped his head to the side again.
“It would benefit us greatly to know what you’ve discovered about the Hoffan disease. It seems to me that would be a fair price for preventing such a Culling—and to your advantage in any case, since the disease has such unfortunate effects on its human hosts as well—”
“Maybe,” Sheppard said. “I’d want to be sure your information was good first.”
“Oh, come now, Sheppard,” Todd said. “Surely we’re not at a stalemate already.”
“Give us the planet,” Sheppard said. “If it checks out, we’ll leave the data here, unencrypted. You can pick it up at your convenience.”
“You’re asking me to take a great deal on trust,” Todd said.
“Let’s just say we’ve leaned to be cautious,” Sheppard answered.
There was a little pause, and then Todd nodded. “Very well. I agree. The planet is Levanna—she will know it.”
Sheppard glanced sideways, and saw Teyla nod. “I do,” she said. “We have traded there once or twice.”
“When?” Sheppard saw the other Wraith male snarl again, and tightened his grip on the P90.
“Within three days. No sooner, and possibly one or two days longer. But that is the earliest she can attack.” Todd paused, and one corner of his mouth curled up in something like a smile. If any of you survive, I expect you to keep this bargain, Sheppard.”
“If it pans out,” Sheppard answered. “We’re done here.”
They left the way they had come, backing away through the grass until they were at a safe enough distance for the others to turn and face the jumper. Sheppard walked backward a little while longer, not quite able to believe that they were actually going to get offworld without there being any shooting. Even after they were completely out of range, he kept glancing back, watching the black-coated figures get smaller and smaller against the lilac grass.
