STARGATE ATLANTIS: Allegiance(Book three in the Legacy series)

by Scott, Melissa

“And how would we get your supplies?” Teyla asked. “We could have used a tiny bit of C4, and no one would ever have known that it wasn’t just an accident.”

  Sora didn’t answer, just looked away, wincing as though something pained her.

  “Are you all right?” Kneeland asked. He kept the P90 ready, but reached one-handed for his pocket. “I’ve got a first aid kit — ”

  “I’m fine,” Sora said. “It’s just bruises.”

  “It is Ladon who has done this,” Teyla said, sitting back on her heels.

  “The Chief would never — ”

  “You are an embarrassment to him.” Teyla cut through the words as though she hadn’t spoken, feeling the truth strike home. “A danger to his plans. This is his solution, an unfortunate accident that he can blame on your own carelessness.”

  “If Ladon Radim wanted to get rid of me, he’d have me arrested,” Sora said. Her voice was bitter. “There’s no one who’d bother stopping him now.”

  Kneeland shone his light into the cellar again, shook his head silently. Teyla said, “Do you wish to survive this?”

  “That’s unlikely,” Sora said, with a thin smile.

  “Survival and revenge,” Teyla said.

  “And how can you give me that?”

  She had known that would appeal. Teyla said, “You have luckily survived a frightening accident. We came upon a collapsed building and heard you call — perhaps you strayed there seeking a short cut to your camp? A tragedy narrowly averted — it would be a shame if anything were to happen after you were so providentially rescued.”

  “And the revenge?” Sora asked.

  “You survive.”

  Sora gave a bark of laughter that turned into a harsh cough. “And the Lanteans get what they wanted all along.”

  “It is past the point where you can influence that,” Teyla said. That was what her father had called a trader’s truth, not entirely a lie, but without much acquaintance with honesty. She had a flash of memory, flowers tumbling as a red-haired tomboy swung upside down from a tree branch, Tyrus scolding her down, too old to play like that — She put the thought firmly aside. “That is for Colonel Sheppard and Ushan Cai and Chief Ladon to work out among them. But you can live and know you are a thorn to his foot.”

  “Why not?” Sora said. She looked old again, drained. “Why the hell not?”

  “Why not, indeed?” Teyla looked at her. “Can you walk?”

  Sora nodded, and Kneeland offered a hand to pull her to her feet. She came up wincing, and Teyla gave her a wary look. It would do them no good to bring her back unconscious, she should walk into camp on her own two feet — And then Sora straightened, nodding. Kneeland kept one hand on her elbow, steadying her, as they started back to the gate square.

  At least they’d gotten through the rest of the evening without another incident, though John was aware that the Satedan Band and some of the Genii were still muttering insults when they thought none of the authorities were listening. He hoped that meant they’d got the worst of it out of their system, and that there would be no further need for anybody to prove their manhood. He’d seen Yan talking to Dar, and thought he could rely on Yan to keep the peace. But, of course, they’d won. It was the Genii he probably needed to worry about.

  At some point, the Satedans had cleared the long tables, except for a small tapped keg and a scattering of cups. He wished briefly he could believe it held beer, but it was too small to be anything but the harsh Satedan moonshine. He’d nursed a cup of it for about an hour before he’d been able to set it discreetly aside, but everyone else seemed to have been knocking it back pretty steadily. He kind of hoped they did all have hangovers in the morning…

  “Colonel Sheppard.”

  John closed his eyes for a second, then stitched a smile on his face and turned to meet Radim. “Chief Ladon?”

  He’d seen Radim drinking along with the others, matching his officers toast for toast, but it didn’t seem to have affected him. “This sparring match — ”

  “Was very impressive,” John said. “Your guy, Gradon, he throws a nice punch. I wouldn’t bet against him — but of course there won’t be a rematch.”

  An unwilling smile flickered across Radim’s face, and was instantly suppressed. “I’d hoped we could ensure that, yes.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” John began, and something moved at the edge of the light. He saw a Marine swivel toward it, P90 not quite raised, and a sober Genii reached reflexively for his sidearm, stopped himself at the last moment.

  “Colonel Sheppard! And Chief Ladon! How fortunate you are here.” That was Teyla’s voice, and she came fully into the light, Corporal Kneeland behind her, supporting a battered-looking Sora. John caught his breath, hoping there hadn’t been another fight, and Teyla kept talking, her voice raised just enough to carry, riding over any comment. “There has been an accident, a collapse of wreckage, but luckily Sora is unharmed.”

  “Lucky, indeed,” Radim said. He sounded sour, and John gave him a glance. The Genii’s face was impassive, and John wondered if he’d heard correctly after all. “And very fortunate that you were there to help.”

  “Yes,” Sora said, with odd emphasis. “It was very fortunate indeed.”

  She looked like hell, John thought, blood on the front of her jacket, her vivid hair dulled with dust. She glared at Radim as though she blamed him, and abruptly the pieces clicked into place for John. Radim hinting at Woolsey’s murder, his willingness to ignore Sora’s near-insubordination, everything he’d done to get power… He opened his mouth to say something, and Teyla gave him a minatory look.

  “I believe she is unharmed,” Teyla said, “but I would like our medic to take a look at her. So that there can be no misunderstandings.”

  “We have a physician here ourselves,” Radim said.

  “We insist,” John said. “Like Teyla said. No misunderstandings.”

  Radim shrugged. “If Sora wishes, I have no objection.”

  “I’m well enough,” Sora said. Teyla’s eyes narrowed, and the younger woman sighed. “But, yes, I suppose it would be wise.”

  Radim lifted his hand, and the blond aide hurried to his side. “Ambrus, if you’d go with Sora and — ”

  “Corporal Kneeland,” Teyla said. She made no move to go with them, and Radim bowed.

  “Then I think I should retire.”

  “I’d like a word before you go,” John said. Radim paused, tipping his head in question, but John waited until he was sure the others were out of earshot. “I know what you did, or what you tried to do, there. Not a smart move.”

  Radim blinked once. “Frankly, I would have thought it would be to your advantage.”

  “It looks bad,” John said. “Trying to get rid of the officer who was running this operation before she got caught? It makes it look like you have something big to hide. But. We want this deal to happen. You need a deal, the Satedans need a deal. Make it happen, and we don’t have to go into what you might have been planning that you needed to cover up this way.”

  There was a little silence, and John hoped he hadn’t completely screwed up whatever Teyla had been planning. Then, abruptly, Radim laughed. He looked momentarily younger, and genuinely amused. “That’s not exactly easy to arrange, Colonel.”

  “I think you can handle it,” John said.

  “I — you’ll accept an agreement to trade for what we need?”

  “If the Satedans will,” John said. “But I think that would work out.”

  “Then I expect we can reach an agreement,” Radim said. “Good night, then.”

  “Good night,” John said, and Teyla echoed him politely. He looked sideways at her, and saw that she was smiling.

  “Your diplomatic technique is improving, John.”

  Chapter Twenty

  ZPM

  It was quiet in the lab, clevermen moving in careful choreography as they drew a newly formed cable from the wall. It was designed to mesh with the framework that held
the ZPM, and Quicksilver adjusted the socket, eyeing the connector warily. The last three had failed catastrophically, and he was more than a bit tired of being splashed with molten cable… Salt tugged it forward, letting it wind around his off hand, so that he could examine the cable’s mouth Quicksilver leaned closer himself. It wasn’t his specialty, but he couldn’t help wanting to see what things had changed. It looked like an adapted sucker, a leech-mouth lined in tiny sparks like diodes, and at his side Ember gave a shrug.

  *We won’t know until we try.*

  Salt showed teeth in answer, and unwound the cable from his wrist. He led it into the frame, and it reached out hungrily, fastened and clung. Lights pulsed, data cascading down the monitor, and Salt lifted his head eagerly. And then there was a snap, and the cable shriveled back, trailing smoke. Salt caught it and another cleverman quickly smothered the flames.

  *How hard can this be?* Quicksilver exclaimed. *How many times do you intend to try this?*

  *Until it works,* Ember snapped, and Salt snarled in agreement.

  *Which will be when?*

  *When it is done,* Salt said, and Ember lifted his hand.

  *As you saw, we are nearly there.* He had himself under tight control. *The next iteration should resolve the last compatibility issues.*

  Salt turned away, carrying the damaged cable tenderly, and another cleverman came to join him, examining the connection.

  *It needs to be done,* Quicksilver said. *I’ve given you everything I can — *

  *Quicksilver.*

  Quicksilver turned on his heel, his long coat flying. The blade in the doorway was a stranger, his mind bright and scattered like sunlight on glass, his hair bound back in an elaborate double club.

  *The queen requests your presence.*

  *I am at her command,* Quicksilver said. In spite of himself, he glanced at Ember, and the other cleverman nodded.

  *I will accompany you if you wish.*

  *The queen wishes to speak to Quicksilver,* Sunshard said. *Not to you.*

  There was a moment when it might have tipped into violence — half the clevermen were Ember’s own — but then Ember stiffly bowed his head.

  *So be it,* Quicksilver said. *Stay and finish this.*

  He followed Sunshard through the corridors as they wound slowly toward the heart of the hive. Bright Venture was a healthy ship again, and her crew was busy, blades leading teams of drones about their business, here and there a junior cleverman testing the tone of hull and bone. Rumor said they would need to Cull again soon, to supply all the men now working aboard, but Ember said the cells had seemed full enough. They passed through the large assembly room, where a quartet of drones waited in mindless patience, and the door of the zenana opened to them.

  The inner chamber was in an uproar, the air hard with crowding thoughts. Quicksilver checked in the doorway, seeing the lords caught mid-quarrel, and Sunshard gave him a look that was like a shove.

  *My queen. The chief of the physical sciences, as you required.*

  Death swung to face him, skirts flying. Her hair gleamed in the shiplight, and her courtiers ducked their heads as though they were afraid to catch her eye. Even in her anger she was beautiful, Quicksilver thought, and made his own obeisance.

  *My queen.*

  *So.* Despite her temper, she paused to smile at him. *The very man we need.*

  *This is not his business.* That was the youngest blade, Sky, his own anger barely in check, and Guide stirred in his corner.

  *My queen, I must agree. This is a matter for blades, not clevermen.*

  *He is the one who gained entrance for us before,* the Old One said. *It will be he who takes down their defenses this time as well. If he can.*

  *We need not risk it,* Farseer said. *My queen, we have energy shields — thanks to Quicksilver, I fully acknowledge it — and we have installed them on nearly all our ships. Let us take a fleet against Atlantis, not fiddle about with attacks through the Stargate.*

  *We have attacked Atlantis before,* the Old One said. *Without success.*

  *Their ships were too strong for us,* Noontide said. *And I believe they still will be. I remind you that these new shields require much power — *

  *We cannot delay,* Sky said, and Farseer bared teeth at him.

  *Enough,* Death said. *We have talked that to death, and I have given my decision. We will not attack the city from space until all our ships are ready, and Quicksilver has worked out this new power plant.*

  Quicksilver looked warily at Death, afraid he knew exactly what they wanted from him, and she smiled again, laying her off hand on his shoulder. *We are on the knife’s-edge, cleverman,* she said, and made the word a caress. Her touch was delicate, thrilling, and Quicksilver suppressed a shiver. *My Old One has proposed another attack, while we know their shield is compromised, and you, Quicksilver, have given us control of their computers. But Noontide believes they will have found a way to counter us, and Guide, who has fought the Lanteans more than any man, agrees with him.*

  *It has been my experience that the Lanteans cannot be taken the same way twice,* Guide said, with a deferential bow.

  Sky tossed back his hair. It fell almost to his waist, Quicksilver saw with envy, straight and silver and unbound. *Yet if we can weaken them further — we must try.*

  *You should lead it then,* Farseer said. *For I will not.*

  *You will do as I bid you,* Death said. *And I bid you depart my presence.*

  Her tone was like the slap of a hand. Farseer flinched and bent his knee.’*My queen — *

  *No more. Return when I summon you and not before.*

  For an instant, the room sang with Farseer’s fear and anger, and then he had mastered himself. *As my queen commands,* he said, and turned away.

  The drones opened the door for him, and the lords of the zenana drew aside from him as he passed. Death raked the room with her stare.

  *Do not doubt me,* she said, soft now as silk, *for I am your queen.* She let her gaze sweep the room a final time, daring them to defy her. *But we have more important matters. Quicksilver. You lowered their shields before. Can you do it a second time?*

  *Maybe,* he began, but her eyes met his, and he could refuse her nothing. *Yes. Yes, I can.*

  The camp looked pretty much like every other dig site William had ever worked in, a couple of tents rigged to shelter the equipment, and a makeshift kitchen where most of the crew had gathered in the morning chill, huddled close to the fire while a woman who had bound her braids up in a scarf dispensed cups of the hot mint-lemon-and-smoke-flavored tea. A second bucket had been set aside to cool, ready for the heat of the day, along with a box of MREs and a couple of smaller baskets of Satedan rations. William took his place in line, let her fill his travel mug — he’d already had a couple of offers to trade for it, would probably succumb one of these days — and ducked through the doorway into what had been the museum’s loading area. The stairwell there was one of the less damaged, though the big elevator shaft was blocked by the wreckage of the car; it had taken them a full day of hard labor to shore up the walls and clear a passage, but he thought they might be just about ready to see what was in the catacombs.

  The combat engineers had already gotten the generator going, and the lights rigged, and a thin Satedan woman was talking to one of them as they both peered dubiously into the opening. He could see Radek a little beyond them, checking the supports, and his steps slowed in spite of himself. Not that he was avoiding Zelenka, he told himself. It was just easier to gather his thoughts in relative quiet.

  “So, today’s the day, huh, doc?”

  That was Corporal Sinclair, one of the engineers, a pottery cup of tea in one hand.

  “If we’re lucky,” William answered.

  “Say.” Sinclair glanced over his shoulder, lowered his voice just a little. “You were at the meetings, right?”

  “I was,” William said, warily.

  “What did Colonel Sheppard say to get the Genii to back down? I was on A
tlantis the first time, and those little — those guys never seemed to give up.”

  “Damned if I know,” William said. “I agree, Chief Ladon conceded much more quickly than I would have anticipated. But as to why?” He spread his free hand. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  “Weird,” Sinclair said, and William nodded in heartfelt agreement. It was extremely strange — and someday, he told himself, he would find out what really happened.

  “There you are,” Radek said, and came bustling over, brushing dirt from his hands. “I think we are ready to send someone down.”

  “I’ll go,” William said. For a moment, he thought Radek was going to protest, but then the scientist shrugged.

  “I suppose that’s best. It is your job.”

  “Yes,” William said. He was already divesting himself of unnecessary gear, anything that might get caught climbing down through the floor, handed his tea absently to Sinclair. The engineer grinned, but didn’t comment, and William checked his camera and light a final time. “Will you lower me, or do I need to climb?”

  “We can lower you,” one of the Satedans said. “No problem.”

  Radek nodded. “Yes, it will be safer that way.” He paused. “You are clear on your location?”

  “Yes,” William said again. This stairwell had led into the Museum’s largest storage area — where large incomplete fossils were stored before restoration, according to one of the women who had been married to a scholar and had spent a fair amount of time in the underground areas — but the map she had drawn for them showed a corridor that led to the room where the Ancient artifacts had been stored. If it was blocked, there was another way around — but perhaps they would be lucky this time.

  He stepped into the harness, waited while Sinclair double-checked the buckles and the rope, and stepped to the edge of the opening. “All right.”

  “Go,” Radek said, to the Satedans working the winch, and William felt the harness tighten as it took his weight. “All right. Stay in radio contact, please, and do not take chances.”

  I didn’t know you cared. William swallowed that remark as thoroughly inappropriate, and adjusted his grip on the rope. “Ready.”