Peter Grodin was tall and dusky, with a cut-glass English accent. Next to him was a box of equipment, which Sheppard immediately recognized as night vision goggles. “The MALP reads full viability,” Grodin was explaining, “and no immediate signs of activity around the Stargate, but it’s pitch black.”
Figures. McKay couldn’t have chosen a planet with daylight? Sumner dug his hand into the equipment box and tossed a pair of goggles to Ford. He let Sheppard help himself. Subtle.
As John affixed his own goggles, Grodin kept talking, handing out something that looked like a TV remote. “For now,” he said, “we’re going to use the tried-and-true system for identification of inbound gate travelers.” Sheppard turned the unfamiliar device over in his hand. Tried-and-true method… “Everyone know how to use one of these?” Grodin asked.
Reluctantly, Sheppard raised his hand. He deliberately didn’t look at Sumner, but could sense the man’s pleasure at this small display of ignorance. “Ah, I must’ve missed that in my briefing.”
“It’s a GDO.”
Well, that cleared that up. “What’s GDO stand for?”
Grodin hesitated before he answered, glancing around and then leaning in and speaking in a low voice. “Garage Door Opener, but don’t tell anyone.”
Sheppard grinned. That sounded like something O’Neill had come up with…
“It sends a radio signal back through the gate with your personal IDC, or identification code,” Grodin went on in a louder voice. “Be sure to use it or the shield will remain closed and you…will…”
He trailed off, but Sheppard didn’t need the description. “Like a mosquito zapper. Got it.”
Abruptly, Sumner pushed past them, ending the conversation. He didn’t look at anyone, eyes fixed on the gate. “Let’s move out.”
Tucking the GDO into his vest, Sheppard once more glanced up at Weir. She looked pale and worried in the blue light. It was the first time she’d ordered her people into harm’s way, and that was a tough moment for anyone. Especially a civilian. Trying to reassure her, Sheppard offered her a thumbs-up. A ghost of a smile touched her lips, and with that he turned and followed Sumner, Ford and the two security teams through the Stargate.
The ride was as wild as ever, but a lot shorter than the trip from home. Almost before he knew it, he was stepping out the other side into a world of darkness. Every sense was on alert as his feet crunched on dead leaves and twigs. A forest. Through his goggles he could see trees, and the ghostly forms of the rest of the team crouching in the shadows.
In silence, Sumner signaled them to spread out, then move out. Still keeping low, Sheppard dodged to his right and kept on Sumner’s six as they began to make their way through the dark forest.
Suddenly Sumner held up his fist and they all froze. Waiting. Listening… And there it was – a sound. It was close, and closing fast. Someone – or something – was crashing through the undergrowth. Visions of three-headed aliens crowded in, and Sheppard raised his weapon. We come in peace… Yeah, right. The sound was behind them now, and he turned, heart racing. There was more than one…
And there it was! A shadow darted out of the trees thirty yards ahead, a blur of dark on dark. Small, fast, and creepy. Sheppard signaled to Ford and they split up, circling to approach from opposite directions.
Alone in the woods, Sheppard’s ears strained to hear over the rasp of his own breathing as he stalked through the undergrowth. A twig snapped somewhere ahead of him, the sound of a scuffle and a high-pitched scream echoed through the night. Sheppard started running.
In a small clearing up ahead he could make out Ford struggling to yank off his night-vision goggles while a short figure, the source of the scream, cowered before him. “Shh! It’s okay,” Ford was hissing urgently. “It’s okay, I’m—”
Suddenly another shape barreled from the trees, dressed in long black robes and some kind of monstrous mask. It broadsided the screaming creature and knocked it flying.
“Please don’t hurt us!” a small voice piped.
Ford was staring, stunned, and before he could react Sheppard slid into the clearing, weapon raised. “What we got?”
The robed creature reached up and pulled off its mask.
“It’s just a kid,” said Ford.
So much for the alien theory. It was a kid, a boy, maybe twelve years old, staring at them with wide, terrified eyes. Two kids, actually. The other one was picking himself up from the floor, clinging to his friend.
Suddenly, someone else rushed into the clearing – a man, who stopped short at the sight of Sheppard, Ford and their weapons. “Please!” he said, eyes darting nervously between the soldiers and the kids. “They were just playing.”
Sheppard was about to reassure him, when the man froze. His eyes went wide with shock, and for a moment Sheppard expected something monstrous to storm the glade. But it was only Sumner, stalking forward with his weapon raised and aimed. “Everything okay, Sheppard?”
“Yessir,” he answered quickly. “Couple of kids is all.” He turned back to the man – the kids’ father? “We’re not here to hurt anyone.” And then with a swift glance at Sumner’s weapon, added, “Right, sir?”
For a moment the Colonel didn’t move, eyes locked with Sheppard’s. Another challenge… But after a moment he backed off, and John returned his attention to the stranger. He was about forty years old, hair like damp straw and a beard to match. His clothes were homespun and didn’t seem to indicate anything approaching advanced technology. Sheppard wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. If they were looking for a ZPM, he doubted these people had one…
“I…” the man began hesitantly. “I am Halling.”
Okay… Sheppard frowned and shifted apologetically. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
Sumner looked like he could barely contain his irritation. “It’s his name.” You idiot, was the subtext.
Oh! “Halling!” Sheppard repeated, ignoring Sumner’s roll of the eyes. “Nice to meet you.”
Halling examined them dubiously, taking in their weapons and uniforms. “Are you traders?”
“Sure,” Sheppard agreed, casting a quick look at the Colonel to make sure. “Friendly neighborhood traders.” It was as good a cover as any. If push came to shove, he could always trade his MREs…
It seemed to be the right answer, at least, because Halling was visibly relieved. With a smile he stepped forward and hauled both boys to their feet. One of them he took by the hands – a dark-haired, skinny kid with round eyes – and touched his forehead with his own.
“Jinto, how often have I told you not to play in the forest after dark?” Halling softened when the boy frowned, duly chastened. “But I am glad you are safe.” He stood straight, still keeping one of the boy’s hands in his. “Come,” he said to Sheppard, glancing at Ford and Sumner to include them too, “Teyla will wish to meet with you.”
Teyla being the boss, Sheppard assumed.
Without further invitation Halling turned and strode back into the trees, hauling the two children after him. As they left, Sheppard just caught Jinto’s plaintive whisper to his friend. “Next time I get to be the Wraith…”
But Sumner didn’t move, watching the guy leave with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Sir?” Sheppard was afraid they were going to lose them in the forest. “I think we’re supposed to follow…”
“Sharp thinking, Sheppard,” the Colonel growled. “Thank God you’re here.” Sheppard glared, but Sumner just turned away and keyed his radio. “Parker, Smitty, you’re on gate duty. Dial Atlantis base and let the good doctor know we’ve made contact with the indigenous people.”
The good doctor? Nice. Respectful.
Without another word, Sumner headed after Halling. Arrogant bastard. If he thought he could intimidate John Sheppard with his barbed comments and veiled disrespect to Weir, then he’d— A hand landed on his shoulder and Sheppard looked up to see Ford standing at his side. The lieutenant didn’t say any
thing, but there was wisdom in the kid’s eyes. Let it go, they said. And they were right. This time.
But, swear to God, if that patronizing SOB didn’t get the hell off his ass Sheppard was gonna call him on it. And to hell with the chain of command; men like Sumner didn’t deserve respect.
Colonel Marshall Sumner was not a happy man. Not only had he been saddled with a civilian woman as mission leader, but she had insisted – with her unsurpassed knowledge of how fighting units worked – on forcing him to take a loose cannon along for the ride.
Sumner didn’t like Sheppard, and he didn’t give a damn who knew it. Out here in the field, where your life and those of your team depended on following the goddamn order to the letter, you didn’t need men like Sheppard. They were dangerous, they damaged unit morale and, frankly, they were irritating as hell. If he’d had his way, Sheppard would never have set foot through the gate. But all his objections had been overruled by the little doctor, and so he was lumbered with the jerk.
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking—” The unexpected interruption came from Lieutenant Ford. Now there was a kid you could trust; there was a kid who’d go far. “I noticed you’ve got a problem with Major Sheppard.”
Ten out of ten for observation. Sumner kept his eyes front, not wanting to lose sight of the man they were following through the trees. Halling. He looked like a peasant; Sumner didn’t hold out much hope that these people would be able to offer any meaningful assistance. “My problem, Lieutenant,” he said, “is with his record. I don’t like people who don’t respect the proper chain of command.”
“Yessir,” came the abrupt response, but there was a touch of surprise in it that Sumner found irritating. The other problem with men like Sheppard was that they were altogether too plausible, too charming… People trusted them when they had no cause to. In fact, people trusted them when they were the last people anyone should trust. Because they weren’t team players. No, sir, not men like Sheppard.
Ford dropped back slightly, no doubt to rejoin the Major. Sumner let him go, but kept his ears open as they walked. Sheppard was talking with the two kids. Maybe he was enjoying the conversation of intellectual equals for a change, because it wasn’t like they were gonna cough up any tactical info. Charm triumphing over substance again; Sheppard just liked the sound of his own voice.
“What was that mask you were wearing?” one of the boys asked. Jinto, Sumner remembered, Halling’s son by the looks of him.
“It helps us see in the dark,” Sheppard replied, handing it over. “Here, check it out.” And there goes $20,000 of tax payers’ money…
“Wow!” came the awed response, followed by the whines of the other child.
“Let me see…”
Like the toy it wasn’t, Sheppard allowed his equipment to be passed between the kids. So help him, if they broke it…
“Can I have it?” the other boy asked.
“Nope,” came the Major’s answer. At least he had that much sense. “So, what were you all dressed up as?”
“Wraith,” the kid answered. And that was the second time Sumner had heard that name. Did he mean ghost?
“Wraith?” Sheppard repeated. “What’s that?”
Jinto seemed astonished. “You don’t know?”
“What world do you come from?” the other asked, equally amazed.
Sheppard hesitated. “Actually,” he said slowly, “we come from a galaxy far, far away…”
Ha-ha. Fortunately Sumner’s attention was distracted from Sheppard’s lame humor by the fact that the trees around them were thinning, and ahead he could see the first signs of civilization. If that was the right word. Torches glittered like gold in the thin predawn light, giving just enough illumination to reveal some kind of shantytown. It was far from permanent, just a collection of tents and sketchy huts that looked as if a stiff breeze would reduce them to matchsticks. The air was thick with wood smoke and the stench of unwashed people and animals. A few of the locals drifted between the tents, as ragged as the settlement itself, eyeing the strangers with a mixture of caution and curiosity.
Sumner sensed no threat from these people, but they weren’t what he needed. There was no technology here, no weapons, nothing they could use. Mission failure; the sooner they got back to the gate, the better.
Disappointed, he turned to Sheppard. The man was gazing at the ragtag camp with interest, taking it all in as if the entire dung heap were an object of fascination. It only irritated Sumner more. This wasn’t why they were here; Atlantis was drowning, the entire mission was on the point of failure, and Sheppard was ogling the natives.
“These people don’t have anything we need,” Sumner growled, keeping his voice down. “This is a waste of time.”
Sheppard just smiled. Right then, the Colonel could have punched his lights out.
The hour was early, and sleep was just releasing its hold on the mind of Teyla Emmagan as she sat drinking tea and thinking of the day to come. It would soon be time to move their encampment to the summer pastures, but Toran had warned her only yesterday that the river still flowed too high. Yet the days were pressing on, and the need to move became more urgent daily. Perhaps they could take the north route, if the snows had cleared? The air, even here in the forest, was still cold, but soon—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a commotion at the door of the yurt as Halling ducked inside, followed by four exotic-looking travelers. Immediately he came to her and murmured, “These men are traders.”
With a nod, Teyla rose and slowly approached the newcomers. They were well armed and in a fashion she had not seen before. Their clothing was unusual and she could not help but notice that they carried little to trade, unless they planned to trade their wits.
At her approach one of the men pulled off his hat and offered a smile. “Nice to meet you,” he said. He spoke with a lilt to his accent that was as unfamiliar as his clothing, but there was a warmth in his eyes that spoke of honesty.
“I am Teyla Emmagan, daughter of Tagan,” she began, introducing herself formally, as was proper. Any further words were forestalled by the interruption of another of their party.
“Is your father available to meet with us?”
The man who had spoken possessed a hard face, and he looked at her as if she were a child at her mother’s knee. Teyla bristled; she had not been treated with such disrespect since she had grown to womanhood. “He is dead,” she told him coldly. “You may speak with me.”
The man appeared uncomfortable for a moment and exchanged a look with his friendlier companion. “Very well,” he said, although his voice did not warm. Then, indicating himself, he said, “Colonel Marshall Sumner.” He vaguely nodded toward the other two men, “Lieutenant Aiden Ford, Major John Sheppard.” He paused briefly, “We have a very few specific needs—”
One of which was manners. “We do not trade with strangers.”
“Is that a fact.”
Behind her, Teyla could sense Toran’s outrage; this man – Colonel Marshall Sumner – gave offense to all her people with his brash, forward demands. She was about to order them removed from the yurt when the other man spoke again.
“Then we’ll just have to get to know each other.” He smiled, and Teyla found her temper cooling. Major John Sheppard, he had been called. It was a strange name. “Me,” he said, when she did not answer, “I like Ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than two hundred miles an hour.”
His meaning was entirely lost to her, but his intention was not. The warmth she had sensed was not feigned. Despite the ill manners of their leader, this man showed respect and an honest desire for friendship.
“Sir?” the third man spoke. He was younger, clearly subordinate. “That’s not going to mean anything—”
“Feel free to speak up,” Major John Sheppard whispered. “I’m just tryin’ to break the ice here.”
“If they can’t help us,” Colonel Marshall Sumner cut in, as rude to his people as to her own, “I�
��d rather not waste our time.”
Or ours. She considered the strangers for a moment longer, curious enough now to know more of these people. That they were not traders she was certain, and she believed it to be in the best interest of her people to find out more. “Each morning before dawn,” she said, directing her words at Major John Sheppard, “our people drink a stout tea to brace us for the coming day.” She hesitated, glancing between him and his leader. But the decision had been made. “Will you join us?”
“I love a good cup of tea,” Sheppard enthused. And then, with a genuine smile, added, “There, that’s something else you know about me. We’re practically friends already.”
It was not hard to believe that he meant his words, and Teyla was unable to keep from smiling as she led him to the table. Her father had often warned her not to be deceived by the charm of strangers, and she told herself she would be wary. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the other man – Colonel Marshall Sumner – shake his head in disapproval. If she had not cause already for caution, the obvious distrust between the travelers would keep her on her guard.
But Teyla Emmagan had long ago learned not to waste the chance to make friends, in whatever form they came. In a world haunted by death, only a fool turned her back on new allies.
Chapter Five
The local tea tasted sweet and spicy, its aroma filling the whole tent with a warmth that was oddly comforting. Sumner had left to check out the area a couple of minutes earlier, and the atmosphere among the locals had lightened considerably in his absence. Considering they really were in a galaxy far, far away, John Sheppard was astonished at the sense of ease he felt among these people. Sure they were different to your Average Joe, but the differences were superficial, and he could see an openness in their eyes that marked them as potential friends and allies. He saw this especially in Teyla Emmagan, who watched him with a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and humor. He liked her already.
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