Unfinished WIP: excerpt: SGA: Upward Over the Mountain [e]
Upward Over the Mountain
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Of course, hoping might be a mistake, because anything big enough distract Richard Woolsey from a perceived slight would very likely impact all of Atlantis.
"Colonel Caldwell has brought special orders and news from Earth," Woolsey said as soon as John reached the conference room and he suddenly got Chuck's silent eye roll as he'd gone by. Woolsey was in full snit mode.
John kept himself moving, kept his expression mild and interested, while his brain scrambled for a response that didn't begin with 'What the hell?' Special orders? Why hadn't the SGC used the Stargate? He nodded to Woolsey and came to attention for Caldwell, who looked - just possibly - sympathetic.
"Sir," he greeted Caldwell cautiously.
Caldwell nodded back to him and said, "SG-1 has been retasked to investigate the breakdown in the Milky Way gate network. The Daedalus was dispatched with orders not to dial Earth or anywhere else in the Milky Way. If this is some kind of network virus, we don't want it spreading to the Pegasus network."
"The what?!" Rodney screeched as he stomped in behind John.
"Dr. McKay," Woolsey said. "Good of you to come. If you'll sit down, we'll begin the briefing."
The SGC had Carter on the problem in the Milky Way. Apparently the IOA suddenly appreciated her talents now that they needed her again. Someday they were going to treat someone like shit, turn around and demand they give their all again and get told to shove it. John hoped he was alive to see that and still alive afterward.
The IOA had sent more orders beyond the SGC no-dialing edict. Caldwell sat in on the staff meeting as they went over the newest efforts at oversight from a galaxy away.
The IOA wanted equipment and technology. Every bit they could strip and transport in the Daedalus holds, especially the things too sizable to take through the stargate. Nothing that had been sent from Earth. The armory, medical and the labs were safe; John had checked through the list currently on display on his laptop. The IOA wanted Ancient artifacts. The items seemed overwhelming in number and senseless, as though the IOA was clutching at grabbing anything they might reverse engineer into a weapon, but there was an underlying pattern.
Of course, Rodney spotted it immediately.
"Are they insane?" he finally asked, looking up from his laptop.
John suppressed a smile at the way Woolsey twitched. Woolsey should be used to it. Rodney didn't waste his tiny supply of tact in Atlantis. Caldwell settled deeper into his chair.
"Dr. McKay," Caldwell started, probably aiming for quelling but sounding more than a little weary instead.
"No, really," Rodney rolled right over Caldwell's effort. "Were they collectively exposed to an alien lobotomy ray?" Rodney turned Woolsey. "You have no idea how critical some of this is to keeping Atlantis functioning. It's ridiculous. Why not just invite the Wraith for tea and offer us up as the cakes?"
Woolsey tried this time, but he didn't even manage an entire word, "Dr. Mc-"
Rodney's hand swept through the air between them. "No, no, I'm not even talking to you." He stabbed at the screen of his laptop with one finger then reversed field to glare directly at Woolsey. "Except to say that as our director," there his air quotes achieved new heights in nonverbal sarcasm, "you should be a little more concerned in the survival of Atlantis. It's your skin too."
Rodney paused for breath, a rare moment that stunned everyone in the room except John.
"The truly remarkable, even astounding, aspect of this list is that they could think we wouldn't see that fifty percent of it is critical to operating our stardrive," Rodney declared. His mouth set in a hard line and his chin came up as he stared straight at Woolsey.
John checked out Caldwell's reaction. Not to double check Rodney. As soon as Rodney had said it, John had seen the pattern too. He'd never be the expert Rodney was, but years in Atlantis had taught him a lot about Ancient tech and Atlantis' systems in particular. Caldwell wouldn't know any of that, but he might know what he was supposed to take away with the Daedalus, and why. Word got out unofficially, especially to ship captains; the truth in Woolsey's sealed orders might have been whispered in Caldwell's ear.
Did he know?
Caldwell met his gaze and nodded. He'd been informed. John didn't read any apology from him, but thought he detected a certain amount of understanding. He knew whatever Woolsey had been told. John held still in his usual slouch, curling his toes in his boots rather than give away the spike of anger and betrayal he felt. Not at Caldwell, but someone should have warned them.
"They don't want us to pick up and relocate while the stargate is our only contact point, do they?" John remarked. He'd bet his pension that the rest of that list was ballast, meant to camouflage the IOA's effort to hobble Atlantis in place.
"No, they don't, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey replied. He might be tolerable if he could be straight with them. John hadn't liked him when they'd met, but he hadn't liked Rodney in Antarctica, either. Either Rodney had grown or he'd just grown on John. So far Woolsey hadn't improved on closer acquaintance. Though he hadn't got anyone killed during the Replicator invasion, when they'd had to take the city back and rescue O'Neill and him, he hadn't displayed any previously hidden qualities.
Richard Woolsey was no Rodney McKay.
"Morons," Rodney muttered. "I'm not gutting and crippling Atlantis because of a bunch of paranoids too deficient to program a VCR."
"Tivo, surely," John murmured in response, despite himself. Rodney glared at him, so that John slumped down further with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Don't distract me," Rodney told him.
"Dr. McKay, our orders are clear and non-negotiable," Woolsey said.
Rodney glared at him, cheeks reddened with furious frustration, the sort of anger that choked his words right off. Rodney's anger was usually loud, fast and forgotten once it passed. This was something different and watching it smooth away disturbed John. He preferred Rodney as an open book. His emotional backwardness and candor were the only things that let anyone keep even with him.
When Rodney shut down and shut up, that was the time to start worrying, but even as smart as she was, Carter had never got that about him, and Woolsey didn't have a clue. No one in the conference room except John knew. John narrowed his eyes at Rodney, but all he got for it was a stubborn chin tilt and then Rodney turning away from him.
"Perhaps it would be better if you returned to Earth," Woolsey suggested. "I'm sure the SGC could use your expertise."
Nothing in his tone reflected a threat, but it was there, and John decided that Woolsey was intolerable. He had to be taken down a hole or preferably driven out. Unfortunately, Atlantis' situation was always too precarious to indulge in a little white mutiny. They have to scare the weasel out.
"Or there's always Area 51."
Rodney didn't answer. He closed his laptop with precise, controlled motions, then addressed Caldwell. "I suppose you want everything packaged for transport as soon as possible?"
"We've finished offloading the holds and they're scheduled for clean up and inspection later today. After that, yes, my orders are to proceed with all speed," Caldwell replied.
Rodney nodded to him.
"I'll put a team together to begin. Removing some of these components without crashing Atlantis' system will be a delicate job."
"How long?" Caldwell asked.
"Six days minimum."
Woolsey looked at John, who shrugged and nodded. "Not my area, but I'd estimate ten days. Rodney does know the city better, though."
Rodney jerked, a motion no one but John saw, then managed a thin, cynical smile for John before leaving.
"Six days," Woolsey repeated. "And like God, he shall rest on the seventh?"
John gritted his teeth.
He said, "McKay knows this city and Ancient technology better than anyone. You might consider the odds, long or short term, on your survival here without him." He got to her feet. "I have paperwork to finish before the Daedalus leaves if we can't report with a databurst, so if you'll excuse me? Colonel. Mr. Woolsey."
Caldwell stood. "Sheppard. I have some orders for you too."
"Yes sir."
Caldwell followed him out.
It wasn't far from the conference room to control room. John nodded at Chuck as he passed. He waited until the transporter doors shut before commenting, "I'm surprised the IOA didn't just demand our ZPM." Bitterness sank under his skin like ink, leaving a mark that might spread and fade, but would stay.
"I suspect they couldn't justify that without recalling the expedition entirely," Caldwell told him. "And they may have had some not entirely unwarranted doubts that such an order would be followed." He gave John a knowing look.
"Sir!"
"Just reading between the lines, Sheppard."
John didn't reply. If it had come to that, refusing an order from Earth or giving up Atlantis' ZPM, when they'd lost Elizabeth to steal it, when they'd already turned over two ZPMs that would have made all the difference when they fled the Replicator attack on Lantea, he didn't know what decision he would have made.
Caldwell accepted his silence and said instead, "I'm surprised McKay folded so easily."
John looked away, pretending to look at something in the control room. That hadn't been Rodney folding. "He's learned to pick his fights."
"And he doesn't want to go back to Earth. Neither do you," Caldwell concluded. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not blind."
John felt no need to comment.
Caldwell chuckled.
John rocked back on his heels, feeling uncomfortable. "I need to go over the inventory on the supplies the Daedalus brought. It looks like a lot more than our usual requisitions."
Caldwell nodded and handed John a packet of papers with the SGC seal over them. "Your orders."
"Do you know what they are?" John asked, weighing the packet in his hand.
"I have some idea, but not the exact terms," Caldwell admitted. "I know you and McKay will do your best for Atlantis and everyone here."
John didn't know if he meant more than just Atlantis, but he thought Caldwell did.
John managed a creditable salute, then exited the transporter.
He cornered Rodney outside an access corridor one level above the stardrive. Rodney had a team of six engineers along with Simpson with him. He was pointing from the screen of his tablet to something down the corridor, then back, and speaking quietly until Simpson nodded her understanding. His hair stood up in fluffy tufts and the side of the hand he gestured with had been scraped red enough to dot with blood.
John's presence was noticed but ignored, so John leaned against a wall and just watched him work.
"Got it?" Rodney asked Simpson.
"Yes.
"Good, then just get on with it. I've got important work to do besides dismantling precious resources to allay the paranoia of a bunch of bureaucrats back on Earth."
Rodney spun and inspected John with a down to his boots, up to his face glance. His mouth turned down. "What do you want?"
"Just checking on how you're doing," John said easily.
"I'm doing," Rodney snapped.
John nodded toward Simpson and the engineers. "So I see. You know what's strange? I don't think there's anything here that's on that list. I'd swear you were the one who told me after the preliminary city survey that this section held nothing but storage for obsolete junk."
Rodney went wide-eyed. "You remember that?"
John tucked his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah."
"Hmmm."
"So, Rodney...something I should know?" he asked.
"No, no. I think we should go get some lunch," Rodney said. "I mean, best if you don't know, you know? At least until something goes horribly, horribly wrong."
John pushed away from the wall and gestured back toward the transporter that would take them to lunch. "Okay, then," he said, "next Thursday."
"Friday if we stretch it," Rodney agreed.
More like next month, when the Daedalus arrived in Earth orbit and the IOA discovered Rodney hadn't sent them the crucial equipment. He wondered if they'd be outraged enough to dial in despite the cut off on Pegasus-Milky Way stargate contact.
He sighed though and just replied, "I'll pencil it into my calendar."
Simpson snapped at a marine to be a little more careful. John winced but stayed out of it and hoped Caldwell would, too. The scientists were all angry, the marines were uneasy and he'd spent all his spare time working with Teyla and Ronon and Shohreh to settle the refugees in and find something for them to do besides drain the city's limited resources. He hadn't seen Rodney or Woolsey in more than passing for days. Woolsey had been closeted in his office, while Rodney had been juggling regular science department function with the extra work of pulling everything the IOA had demanded they turn over.
Or pretending to. John was carefully not asking.
His own orders were to take over control of Atlantis if anything happened to Woolsey and to hold the city for the SGC and not engage in any conflicts outside it other than in the pursuit of possibly useful weapons or other technologies. Reading between the lines, John saw the end of the beautiful scientific expedition in favor of armed looting. He'd locked the orders in his personal safe and planned to ignore them unless forced otherwise by circumstance. Interestingly, Woolsey hadn't asked about John's orders. Of course, Rodney hadn't either, but Rodney had an excuse.
Something was being loaded aboard the Daedalus. John hoped it wasn't a bomb. Moreover, he hoped that Rodney's defiance didn't end up blowing up in his and all their faces.
Beside him, Caldwell said nothing. Caldwell had commed him and asked John to join him, but so far hadn't broached any subjects.
The marine apologized and bent to work again, packing another specially built carton onto a pallet and securing it. A dozen others littered the cargo loading dock, waiting their turn to be checked off and beamed into the Daedalus' holds.
Simpson stalked around pointing and yelling with Rodney-like flair. Finally, she tugged at the crate and nodded, waving Corporal Wendell over. Wendell had the tank and blower that would cover the entire pallet with a coating that would constrict and bind everything in place, seal it even against vacuum, and neatly dissolve into harmless dust when exposed to its specific catalyst.
The green fluid smelled like chlorophyll and vinegar before it dried. Caldwell wrinkled his nose as Wendell began spraying.
"It takes about five minutes to set," John told him.
"I noticed you were sending some people back," Caldwell said.
"Yeah. A couple of people who never quite fit and one trouble maker."
"A marine. You might want to hold onto as many of them as you can."
John glanced at him curiously. "Something else I need to know, sir?" He kept replaying Caldwell's words about him and Rodney not going back to Earth.
The supplies the Daedalus had offloaded had been double the usual shipment, triple their regular requisitions of ammunition, replacement weapons, gear and equipment. They'd had to open a second armory and a new supply warehouse for the dry goods, including a six month supply of MREs. John had been nervous since he'd seen the first inventory. It had pushed the ship's normal capacity to the limit.
On top of that, the Daedalus had cleared its 302 bays and used them for cargo space.
Everything in those bays had been on a separate inventory than the regular supply run, an inventory that Lindsay Novak had handed him personally.
If he'd read the bill of lading right, someone had put together a shipment of everything a colony would need: the tools to build the infrastructure of a civilization. Seeds, plows, looms, needles, sewing machines. An entire machine shop. Toothpaste and soap. Recipes for making toothpaste and soap from scratch. Five Asgard manufactured stasis containers with fertilized chicken eggs, piglets, goat kids, dogs, cats, horses and camels, more seed stock for everything from barley and rice to apples, olives and lemons. Not just one item, but all the things necessary to support or manufacture it. Libraries full of books on compressed media. More materials than John would have ever thought of in his life, but when he saw each one listed, he realized Atlantis would need every bit of them...If they were cut off again.
Woolsey didn't strike him as the kind of guy who wanted to leave Earth if there wouldn't be a way back, but the message in those inventory lists told a different story.
It scared the hell out of him.
"If the stargate system in the Milky Way keeps failing, every ship is going to be needed there," Caldwell answered. "Maybe it's something Colonel Carter can fix, but if not...something out there is destroying stargates."
That first part didn't really come as a surprise.
Without the stargate though, Atlantis' only contact with Earth would continue to be through ships like the Daedalus. Caldwell was saying that that might disappear too.
"Nothing has been announced officially, but I've been told the Daedalus will be retasked to the Earth Defense Fleet within the next six months."
The Daedalus was the slow boat of Earth's hyperdrive capable ships, the oldest name that hadn't been destroyed and rebuilt. The SGC wouldn't be sending faster, better ships like the Apollo to deliver MREs to an outpost. Christ, they were being set afloat on their own.
All unofficially, of course.
Those wraithfucking sons of whores.
Caldwell was warning him and the extra cargo had been someone's effort to see they weren't totally screwed over and left hanging. Off the books and John would bet his goddamn useless trust fund on a three-legged dog to win the Kentucky Derby before he believed the IOA knew what had been in those 302 bays.
"I'll be taking over command of the Icarus."
John didn't say it, but he thought that was a hideously ill-omened name for a ship, worse than anything the Ancients had inflicted on their ships.
Wendell shut down the sprayer and stepped back. Simpson gave him a thumbs up and he grinned. The green binder coating began curing, fading into translucence as it set up.
"May I offer my congratulations, sir?"
Caldwell studied him, but John meant it. Caldwell was by the book, but he'd never hesitated to put himself or his ship in the way of danger when duty called for it. The crew of the Daedalus were dead loyal to him.
"It's not official yet."
"Any other rumors?" John asked.
Caldwell turned away from him. "I'd get used to Woolsey."
"Is he aware of that?"
"No one's told me exactly what Mr. Woolsey has been made privy to by the IOA," came the dry answer.
John hesitated but had to ask.
"And the material from the...second bill of lading?"
"The Daedalus' 302 contingent were reassigned to Homeworld Security Force. General O'Neill informed me the extra space they left might as well serve some purpose when Hermiod began beaming the cargo into my bays."
Homeworld Security remained classified. Its entire budget was in the black. O'Neill had probably buried everything in the shipment deeper than deep, blacker than black, completely off the books.
"Well, if you see him, let him know McKay's going to be pissed no one sent him his cat." John studied the pallet. In other words, 'Thanks for looking out for us'. "Looks like that's ready."
Simpson was using her radio. A moment later white light engulfed the pallet as it was beamed up to the Daedalus. She motioned the marines forward and they began packing another pallet full of equipment.
They watched until the last pallet disappeared.
"Good luck, Colonel," Caldwell said, offering his hand.
John took it.
"Safe trip," he said. He stepped back and watched as Caldwell gave the order to be transported to his command.
John thought it would be long time until he saw him again.
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Of course, hoping might be a mistake, because anything big enough distract Richard Woolsey from a perceived slight would very likely impact all of Atlantis.
"Colonel Caldwell has brought special orders and news from Earth," Woolsey said as soon as John reached the conference room and he suddenly got Chuck's silent eye roll as he'd gone by. Woolsey was in full snit mode.
John kept himself moving, kept his expression mild and interested, while his brain scrambled for a response that didn't begin with 'What the hell?' Special orders? Why hadn't the SGC used the Stargate? He nodded to Woolsey and came to attention for Caldwell, who looked - just possibly - sympathetic.
"Sir," he greeted Caldwell cautiously.
Caldwell nodded back to him and said, "SG-1 has been retasked to investigate the breakdown in the Milky Way gate network. The Daedalus was dispatched with orders not to dial Earth or anywhere else in the Milky Way. If this is some kind of network virus, we don't want it spreading to the Pegasus network."
"The what?!" Rodney screeched as he stomped in behind John.
"Dr. McKay," Woolsey said. "Good of you to come. If you'll sit down, we'll begin the briefing."
The SGC had Carter on the problem in the Milky Way. Apparently the IOA suddenly appreciated her talents now that they needed her again. Someday they were going to treat someone like shit, turn around and demand they give their all again and get told to shove it. John hoped he was alive to see that and still alive afterward.
The IOA had sent more orders beyond the SGC no-dialing edict. Caldwell sat in on the staff meeting as they went over the newest efforts at oversight from a galaxy away.
The IOA wanted equipment and technology. Every bit they could strip and transport in the Daedalus holds, especially the things too sizable to take through the stargate. Nothing that had been sent from Earth. The armory, medical and the labs were safe; John had checked through the list currently on display on his laptop. The IOA wanted Ancient artifacts. The items seemed overwhelming in number and senseless, as though the IOA was clutching at grabbing anything they might reverse engineer into a weapon, but there was an underlying pattern.
Of course, Rodney spotted it immediately.
"Are they insane?" he finally asked, looking up from his laptop.
John suppressed a smile at the way Woolsey twitched. Woolsey should be used to it. Rodney didn't waste his tiny supply of tact in Atlantis. Caldwell settled deeper into his chair.
"Dr. McKay," Caldwell started, probably aiming for quelling but sounding more than a little weary instead.
"No, really," Rodney rolled right over Caldwell's effort. "Were they collectively exposed to an alien lobotomy ray?" Rodney turned Woolsey. "You have no idea how critical some of this is to keeping Atlantis functioning. It's ridiculous. Why not just invite the Wraith for tea and offer us up as the cakes?"
Woolsey tried this time, but he didn't even manage an entire word, "Dr. Mc-"
Rodney's hand swept through the air between them. "No, no, I'm not even talking to you." He stabbed at the screen of his laptop with one finger then reversed field to glare directly at Woolsey. "Except to say that as our director," there his air quotes achieved new heights in nonverbal sarcasm, "you should be a little more concerned in the survival of Atlantis. It's your skin too."
Rodney paused for breath, a rare moment that stunned everyone in the room except John.
"The truly remarkable, even astounding, aspect of this list is that they could think we wouldn't see that fifty percent of it is critical to operating our stardrive," Rodney declared. His mouth set in a hard line and his chin came up as he stared straight at Woolsey.
John checked out Caldwell's reaction. Not to double check Rodney. As soon as Rodney had said it, John had seen the pattern too. He'd never be the expert Rodney was, but years in Atlantis had taught him a lot about Ancient tech and Atlantis' systems in particular. Caldwell wouldn't know any of that, but he might know what he was supposed to take away with the Daedalus, and why. Word got out unofficially, especially to ship captains; the truth in Woolsey's sealed orders might have been whispered in Caldwell's ear.
Did he know?
Caldwell met his gaze and nodded. He'd been informed. John didn't read any apology from him, but thought he detected a certain amount of understanding. He knew whatever Woolsey had been told. John held still in his usual slouch, curling his toes in his boots rather than give away the spike of anger and betrayal he felt. Not at Caldwell, but someone should have warned them.
"They don't want us to pick up and relocate while the stargate is our only contact point, do they?" John remarked. He'd bet his pension that the rest of that list was ballast, meant to camouflage the IOA's effort to hobble Atlantis in place.
"No, they don't, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey replied. He might be tolerable if he could be straight with them. John hadn't liked him when they'd met, but he hadn't liked Rodney in Antarctica, either. Either Rodney had grown or he'd just grown on John. So far Woolsey hadn't improved on closer acquaintance. Though he hadn't got anyone killed during the Replicator invasion, when they'd had to take the city back and rescue O'Neill and him, he hadn't displayed any previously hidden qualities.
Richard Woolsey was no Rodney McKay.
"Morons," Rodney muttered. "I'm not gutting and crippling Atlantis because of a bunch of paranoids too deficient to program a VCR."
"Tivo, surely," John murmured in response, despite himself. Rodney glared at him, so that John slumped down further with a waggle of his eyebrows.
"Don't distract me," Rodney told him.
"Dr. McKay, our orders are clear and non-negotiable," Woolsey said.
Rodney glared at him, cheeks reddened with furious frustration, the sort of anger that choked his words right off. Rodney's anger was usually loud, fast and forgotten once it passed. This was something different and watching it smooth away disturbed John. He preferred Rodney as an open book. His emotional backwardness and candor were the only things that let anyone keep even with him.
When Rodney shut down and shut up, that was the time to start worrying, but even as smart as she was, Carter had never got that about him, and Woolsey didn't have a clue. No one in the conference room except John knew. John narrowed his eyes at Rodney, but all he got for it was a stubborn chin tilt and then Rodney turning away from him.
"Perhaps it would be better if you returned to Earth," Woolsey suggested. "I'm sure the SGC could use your expertise."
Nothing in his tone reflected a threat, but it was there, and John decided that Woolsey was intolerable. He had to be taken down a hole or preferably driven out. Unfortunately, Atlantis' situation was always too precarious to indulge in a little white mutiny. They have to scare the weasel out.
"Or there's always Area 51."
Rodney didn't answer. He closed his laptop with precise, controlled motions, then addressed Caldwell. "I suppose you want everything packaged for transport as soon as possible?"
"We've finished offloading the holds and they're scheduled for clean up and inspection later today. After that, yes, my orders are to proceed with all speed," Caldwell replied.
Rodney nodded to him.
"I'll put a team together to begin. Removing some of these components without crashing Atlantis' system will be a delicate job."
"How long?" Caldwell asked.
"Six days minimum."
Woolsey looked at John, who shrugged and nodded. "Not my area, but I'd estimate ten days. Rodney does know the city better, though."
Rodney jerked, a motion no one but John saw, then managed a thin, cynical smile for John before leaving.
"Six days," Woolsey repeated. "And like God, he shall rest on the seventh?"
John gritted his teeth.
He said, "McKay knows this city and Ancient technology better than anyone. You might consider the odds, long or short term, on your survival here without him." He got to her feet. "I have paperwork to finish before the Daedalus leaves if we can't report with a databurst, so if you'll excuse me? Colonel. Mr. Woolsey."
Caldwell stood. "Sheppard. I have some orders for you too."
"Yes sir."
Caldwell followed him out.
It wasn't far from the conference room to control room. John nodded at Chuck as he passed. He waited until the transporter doors shut before commenting, "I'm surprised the IOA didn't just demand our ZPM." Bitterness sank under his skin like ink, leaving a mark that might spread and fade, but would stay.
"I suspect they couldn't justify that without recalling the expedition entirely," Caldwell told him. "And they may have had some not entirely unwarranted doubts that such an order would be followed." He gave John a knowing look.
"Sir!"
"Just reading between the lines, Sheppard."
John didn't reply. If it had come to that, refusing an order from Earth or giving up Atlantis' ZPM, when they'd lost Elizabeth to steal it, when they'd already turned over two ZPMs that would have made all the difference when they fled the Replicator attack on Lantea, he didn't know what decision he would have made.
Caldwell accepted his silence and said instead, "I'm surprised McKay folded so easily."
John looked away, pretending to look at something in the control room. That hadn't been Rodney folding. "He's learned to pick his fights."
"And he doesn't want to go back to Earth. Neither do you," Caldwell concluded. "Don't look so surprised. I'm not blind."
John felt no need to comment.
Caldwell chuckled.
John rocked back on his heels, feeling uncomfortable. "I need to go over the inventory on the supplies the Daedalus brought. It looks like a lot more than our usual requisitions."
Caldwell nodded and handed John a packet of papers with the SGC seal over them. "Your orders."
"Do you know what they are?" John asked, weighing the packet in his hand.
"I have some idea, but not the exact terms," Caldwell admitted. "I know you and McKay will do your best for Atlantis and everyone here."
John didn't know if he meant more than just Atlantis, but he thought Caldwell did.
John managed a creditable salute, then exited the transporter.
He cornered Rodney outside an access corridor one level above the stardrive. Rodney had a team of six engineers along with Simpson with him. He was pointing from the screen of his tablet to something down the corridor, then back, and speaking quietly until Simpson nodded her understanding. His hair stood up in fluffy tufts and the side of the hand he gestured with had been scraped red enough to dot with blood.
John's presence was noticed but ignored, so John leaned against a wall and just watched him work.
"Got it?" Rodney asked Simpson.
"Yes.
"Good, then just get on with it. I've got important work to do besides dismantling precious resources to allay the paranoia of a bunch of bureaucrats back on Earth."
Rodney spun and inspected John with a down to his boots, up to his face glance. His mouth turned down. "What do you want?"
"Just checking on how you're doing," John said easily.
"I'm doing," Rodney snapped.
John nodded toward Simpson and the engineers. "So I see. You know what's strange? I don't think there's anything here that's on that list. I'd swear you were the one who told me after the preliminary city survey that this section held nothing but storage for obsolete junk."
Rodney went wide-eyed. "You remember that?"
John tucked his hands in his pockets.
"Yeah."
"Hmmm."
"So, Rodney...something I should know?" he asked.
"No, no. I think we should go get some lunch," Rodney said. "I mean, best if you don't know, you know? At least until something goes horribly, horribly wrong."
John pushed away from the wall and gestured back toward the transporter that would take them to lunch. "Okay, then," he said, "next Thursday."
"Friday if we stretch it," Rodney agreed.
More like next month, when the Daedalus arrived in Earth orbit and the IOA discovered Rodney hadn't sent them the crucial equipment. He wondered if they'd be outraged enough to dial in despite the cut off on Pegasus-Milky Way stargate contact.
He sighed though and just replied, "I'll pencil it into my calendar."
Simpson snapped at a marine to be a little more careful. John winced but stayed out of it and hoped Caldwell would, too. The scientists were all angry, the marines were uneasy and he'd spent all his spare time working with Teyla and Ronon and Shohreh to settle the refugees in and find something for them to do besides drain the city's limited resources. He hadn't seen Rodney or Woolsey in more than passing for days. Woolsey had been closeted in his office, while Rodney had been juggling regular science department function with the extra work of pulling everything the IOA had demanded they turn over.
Or pretending to. John was carefully not asking.
His own orders were to take over control of Atlantis if anything happened to Woolsey and to hold the city for the SGC and not engage in any conflicts outside it other than in the pursuit of possibly useful weapons or other technologies. Reading between the lines, John saw the end of the beautiful scientific expedition in favor of armed looting. He'd locked the orders in his personal safe and planned to ignore them unless forced otherwise by circumstance. Interestingly, Woolsey hadn't asked about John's orders. Of course, Rodney hadn't either, but Rodney had an excuse.
Something was being loaded aboard the Daedalus. John hoped it wasn't a bomb. Moreover, he hoped that Rodney's defiance didn't end up blowing up in his and all their faces.
Beside him, Caldwell said nothing. Caldwell had commed him and asked John to join him, but so far hadn't broached any subjects.
The marine apologized and bent to work again, packing another specially built carton onto a pallet and securing it. A dozen others littered the cargo loading dock, waiting their turn to be checked off and beamed into the Daedalus' holds.
Simpson stalked around pointing and yelling with Rodney-like flair. Finally, she tugged at the crate and nodded, waving Corporal Wendell over. Wendell had the tank and blower that would cover the entire pallet with a coating that would constrict and bind everything in place, seal it even against vacuum, and neatly dissolve into harmless dust when exposed to its specific catalyst.
The green fluid smelled like chlorophyll and vinegar before it dried. Caldwell wrinkled his nose as Wendell began spraying.
"It takes about five minutes to set," John told him.
"I noticed you were sending some people back," Caldwell said.
"Yeah. A couple of people who never quite fit and one trouble maker."
"A marine. You might want to hold onto as many of them as you can."
John glanced at him curiously. "Something else I need to know, sir?" He kept replaying Caldwell's words about him and Rodney not going back to Earth.
The supplies the Daedalus had offloaded had been double the usual shipment, triple their regular requisitions of ammunition, replacement weapons, gear and equipment. They'd had to open a second armory and a new supply warehouse for the dry goods, including a six month supply of MREs. John had been nervous since he'd seen the first inventory. It had pushed the ship's normal capacity to the limit.
On top of that, the Daedalus had cleared its 302 bays and used them for cargo space.
Everything in those bays had been on a separate inventory than the regular supply run, an inventory that Lindsay Novak had handed him personally.
If he'd read the bill of lading right, someone had put together a shipment of everything a colony would need: the tools to build the infrastructure of a civilization. Seeds, plows, looms, needles, sewing machines. An entire machine shop. Toothpaste and soap. Recipes for making toothpaste and soap from scratch. Five Asgard manufactured stasis containers with fertilized chicken eggs, piglets, goat kids, dogs, cats, horses and camels, more seed stock for everything from barley and rice to apples, olives and lemons. Not just one item, but all the things necessary to support or manufacture it. Libraries full of books on compressed media. More materials than John would have ever thought of in his life, but when he saw each one listed, he realized Atlantis would need every bit of them...If they were cut off again.
Woolsey didn't strike him as the kind of guy who wanted to leave Earth if there wouldn't be a way back, but the message in those inventory lists told a different story.
It scared the hell out of him.
"If the stargate system in the Milky Way keeps failing, every ship is going to be needed there," Caldwell answered. "Maybe it's something Colonel Carter can fix, but if not...something out there is destroying stargates."
That first part didn't really come as a surprise.
Without the stargate though, Atlantis' only contact with Earth would continue to be through ships like the Daedalus. Caldwell was saying that that might disappear too.
"Nothing has been announced officially, but I've been told the Daedalus will be retasked to the Earth Defense Fleet within the next six months."
The Daedalus was the slow boat of Earth's hyperdrive capable ships, the oldest name that hadn't been destroyed and rebuilt. The SGC wouldn't be sending faster, better ships like the Apollo to deliver MREs to an outpost. Christ, they were being set afloat on their own.
All unofficially, of course.
Those wraithfucking sons of whores.
Caldwell was warning him and the extra cargo had been someone's effort to see they weren't totally screwed over and left hanging. Off the books and John would bet his goddamn useless trust fund on a three-legged dog to win the Kentucky Derby before he believed the IOA knew what had been in those 302 bays.
"I'll be taking over command of the Icarus."
John didn't say it, but he thought that was a hideously ill-omened name for a ship, worse than anything the Ancients had inflicted on their ships.
Wendell shut down the sprayer and stepped back. Simpson gave him a thumbs up and he grinned. The green binder coating began curing, fading into translucence as it set up.
"May I offer my congratulations, sir?"
Caldwell studied him, but John meant it. Caldwell was by the book, but he'd never hesitated to put himself or his ship in the way of danger when duty called for it. The crew of the Daedalus were dead loyal to him.
"It's not official yet."
"Any other rumors?" John asked.
Caldwell turned away from him. "I'd get used to Woolsey."
"Is he aware of that?"
"No one's told me exactly what Mr. Woolsey has been made privy to by the IOA," came the dry answer.
John hesitated but had to ask.
"And the material from the...second bill of lading?"
"The Daedalus' 302 contingent were reassigned to Homeworld Security Force. General O'Neill informed me the extra space they left might as well serve some purpose when Hermiod began beaming the cargo into my bays."
Homeworld Security remained classified. Its entire budget was in the black. O'Neill had probably buried everything in the shipment deeper than deep, blacker than black, completely off the books.
"Well, if you see him, let him know McKay's going to be pissed no one sent him his cat." John studied the pallet. In other words, 'Thanks for looking out for us'. "Looks like that's ready."
Simpson was using her radio. A moment later white light engulfed the pallet as it was beamed up to the Daedalus. She motioned the marines forward and they began packing another pallet full of equipment.
They watched until the last pallet disappeared.
"Good luck, Colonel," Caldwell said, offering his hand.
John took it.
"Safe trip," he said. He stepped back and watched as Caldwell gave the order to be transported to his command.
John thought it would be long time until he saw him again.