Plan Z, Part 3/4
Title: Plan Z
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Stargate-Atlantis
Genre: Action/adventure, Humour
Rating: General, suitable for all
Pairings: Radek/?/? - anything else would be telling. And it’s all implied anyway.
Warnings: none, unless you’re squicked out by the idea of Mpreg or cross-genre threesomes.
Spoilers: “The Torment of Tantalus” (SG-1, 1.11), “Crystal Skull” (SG-1, 3.21), and “Paradise Lost” (SG-1, 6.15)
Timeframe: Late Season 1, so that I could add my favourite supporting characters who never made it into Season 2.
Summary: Answering the 2007 Radek ficathon challenge. Written for leaper182.
The prompt was: When Sheppard's team is trapped off-world, they need Radek's help to get back to Atlantis. Slash (either Radek/Rodney or Radek/Carson) is lovely, but not required.
Series/sequel: none. Although the story uses the settings of my Darkroom alternate universe, it’s independent from everything I’ve ever written in this fandom.
Disclaimer: don’t own them, no money made. Only the wacky planet and a bunch of OCs belong to me.
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PLAN Z, PART 3
As the mediator had told them, the gut-wrenching trip through the Stargate ended in some enormous cage. It seemed completely empty, save from the Gate itself - and nobody was waiting for them.
“Are we not expected?” Radek turned to the mediator, but to his mild shock, his hand went right through the man’s arm when he tried to get some support, as if it didn’t have any substance at all. “Oh,” he said, understanding what was happening. “Interdimensional displacement has already taken place. Good that I’m brilliant scientist; otherwise I would freak out now.”
The mediator didn’t answer, and Radek vaguely remembered Dr. Corrigan having said something about the one-sidedness of the interdimensional experience. He’d have to read SG-1’s report about P7X-377, should he get the chance. Or talk to Dr. Jackson, in the unlikely case that they ever got back to Earth. It would be interesting to compare their experiences.
He asked himself how long the Furlings would need to realize that he was harmless, and how they could tell to begin with; and whether he’d have to spend hours in this cave, which was not a very inviting place, even in its current, non-substantial state. Bored and annoyed wasn’t even beginning to describe his state of mind, but he knew better than to complain. Making the ones with the power mad was never a good idea.
So he waited with forced patience, until he saw the mediator turning towards him, which he interpreted as a sign that they were in the same dimension again. He was proved right the next moment, when Diggory jovially slapped his back.
“They returned you to the real world, I see,” the Manaran exclaimed. “Good, good! The archway shall be opening any minute now.”
As if to prove his words true, all of a sudden a gate became outlined in the previously solid cave wall: a great, trapezoid frame, filled with white light.
“And here it is,” Diggory announced cheerfully - way too cheerfully for Radek’s taste.
“What now?” he asked morosely.
“Now we walk through the archway and will find us… wherever the Furlings want us to be,” Diggory explained. “The council chamber of the Synod is the most likely place; that’s where they talk to the rare outsiders they allow to visit their planet. Don’t worry; you won’t feel a thing during transfer.”
“They say the same about Stargate travel,” Radek grumbled. “And it is not true for Stargate travel.”
“You feel something when passing through a Gate?” Diggory asked in surprise.
“Nausea,” Radek answered darkly. “I feel nausea. That’s why I prefer sitting in nice, safe lab, back in Atlantis.”
“Well, that’s not an option right now,” Diggory said with an apologetic shrug. “But you can trust me: the archway is completely safe. I’ve walked through it several times, and I’m still here. Come now; you wouldn’t want to make the Furlings wait. That can make them… cranky.”
“Sounds like Rodney,” Radek said, eyeing the archway suspiciously. The Stargate was at least a known quality, even though he disliked using it. This, however… “Perhaps I should leave them to each other,” he started backing off physically already. “Perhaps they would make perfect match.”
“Unlikely,” the mediator said dryly. “Please follow me now.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Radek closed his eyes and allowed Diggory to drag him through the archway. The trip didn’t give him the same feeling of disorientation as the Stargate. It was rather as if he’d been sucked in by some sort of maelstrom and spat out at the other end.
“It takes a bit of practice,” Diggory commented unnecessarily, and extended a hand to help Radek up. Radek accepted the help, got up awkwardly, wiped his hands on his trousers and looked around in the room, completely awestruck.
They were standing in some sort of antechamber, the walls of which were translucent, allowing them a look at the most extraordinary cityscape Radek had ever seen - and that seen from the upmost level of a ten-storey house. The utilitarian, geometric shapes; the matte silver or bronze or broken white glimmer of the buildings; the walkways that interconnected with them in broadly-swung spirals and wide curves - all of it could have been imagined by a first class CGI artist of a big budget sci-fi movie. None of the buildings seemed to have any windows, but based on the room he was standing right now, perhaps the walls were one-sidedly translucent, making windows unnecessary. The tallest buildings were fifteen to twenty storeys high. The city stretched in every direction as far as Radek could see; and he couldn’t even calculate the amount of energy that was necessary to cloak and shield a settlement of this magnitude. Yet the Furlings must have managed it somehow, given the fact that the Wraith hadn’t found them during the millennia they'd lived in this galaxy.
Unless, of course, the entire civilization existed in a parallel dimension.
Between the buildings there were wide, open places with perfectly manicured parks; the enormous trees and bushes were not the usual green but rather a bluish shade, which made Radek think that the primary star of the planet must have been a white or blue giant, with a different kind of radiation than the sun of Earth - or even that of Atlantis. Radek wondered what the inhabitants would look like. Having developed under such a different sun must have left its traces on their appearance.
A second glance around the room answered Radek’s question, at least partially. A few technicians, easily recognizable by their coveralls - even though those looked as if made out of thin silver foil - were working at various consoles. Every single one of them was male, about Radek’s height or even shorter, but somewhat more delicately built. They were olive-skinned with a slight greenish hue, their black hair was metallic-looking, with blue highlights, and at least two of them were very obviously pregnant, displaying the unmistakable mannerisms that for humans would be characteristic of child-bearing women.
The only woman present stood in front of a large, circular door, the frame of which was adorned with symbols of the Furling alphabet, but without an actual keyhole or any visible opening mechanism. The woman was tall, lean and long-limbed, built like a runner, but with the cold, wary eyes of a professional soldier. She wore long, black skin-tight pants of the same metal foil, to that of the technicians’ outfits, as well as a top that left her midriff bare. She was so flat-chested that one could have mistaken her for a young man, and a long, gleaming golden braid was hanging over one of her shoulders. She was armed with a hand-held weapon that had some vague similarity to the Goa’uld zat’nikitel and there was no mistaking that she was a warrior, someone who could use it well.
“Are you the one called Zelenka?” she asked in a business-like manner, and as Radek nodded, she simply touched the door with her palm.
The door - vanished. Just like that. Behind it, a large room with a U-shaped table could be seen. A lot of people were sitting at the table, but for the moment, Radek only had eyes for the door itself. His mind whirled, trying to figure out how such a door could possibly function. He didn’t even realize that he was muttering to himself in Czech, forming theories and rejecting them in rapid success.
“The Holy Synod is awaiting you,” the female soldier reminded, and she stepped to the side, so that Radek could enter the room.
He did as instructed and looked around, eager to see everything that was there to see - and that was quite a lot. The room was a strange, anachronistic mix of ancient temple and advanced technology. The wide expanse of its walls was covered with ceramic reliefs that had the look of Mayan calendar plates, made of reddish-brown ceramic and inlaid with gold. Instead of lamps or windows, it was illuminated by large, gently glowing white surfaces that could, perhaps, also serve as viewscreens, if necessary.
A look at the people present gave Radek the weird feeling as if he’d been transferred to an episode of that old “Lost in Space” TV-show… sans Robbie the Robot. Everyone was clad in skin-tight clothes, made of the same thin, metallic foil - only the cut and the colour varied, presumably according to each individual’s gender, rank or perhaps occupation. Four of them were sitting with Teyla and McKay on the narrow side of the U-shape, facing the door. They must have been the leading representatives of the four genders, because their attire was the most sophisticated and richly decorated.
There was one of them who caught Radek’s eye immediately: a literal giant of a man, at the very least 6’4’’ and shaped like a professional bodybuilder. His upper body was naked, save from a richly adorned collar made of a yellow metal - perhaps gold - and set with small, multicoloured stones. Those stones could be also glass baubles or jewels - or control buttons for some unknown technology. It was hard to tell. The collar covered the entire upper half of the man’s broad chest. He was olive-skinned and wore his glittering copper hair in a topknot. Dramatic eye-makeup emphasized his already large eyes, making his lids look like green metallic shells. He wore a pendant similar to the Ancient Egyptian ankh symbol hanging on a golden chain from the collar, and also one of those zat’nikitel-like weapons, only a bigger and more ornate one. Based on his size and aggressive, edgy body language, Radek made the educated guess that this man had to be the Chief Warlord - the one who had proposed to Major Sheppard.
On the Warlord’s right sat a middle-aged looking man: smooth-faced, a bit rotund, but still very beautiful. His elegantly greying hair, arranged in a fairly extravagant fashion, was sticking out in every direction. If that was the traditional hairdo of a high-ranking, well-bred Beta male, it was easy to understand why Sheppard had caught the chief’s eye; his usual bed hair style looked surprisingly similar.
The lead Beta also wore elaborate make-up, his impossibly long eyelashes emphasized by thick, dark mascara, and his small mouth painted red and outlined with a darker colour. A shimmering piece of fabric, folded like a toga from Ancient Rome, covered the no longer absolutely perfect curves of his body. His collar - or perhaps personalized control console - and ankh pendant were the same as those worn by the Alpha, but he also wore jewelled rings and wrist-guards; it was impossible to tell if they were pieces of sophisticated technology or merely adornment.
There was a strange piece of apparatus standing on the table in front of him. It looked like the local version of a laptop, but instead of a screen, all it had was an empty frame. Radek guessed that it had to be some sort of three-dimensional holographic projector, and his fingers began to itch. If he could get a chance to take a closer look…
But the wary face of the woman on the Warlord’s left reminded him that this wasn’t the right time for scientific curiosity. She must have been the head of the Alpha females, as she was dressed like the female soldier guarding the door - armed, too - but she also had the same Egyptian-style collar as the males, and even an elongated, metallic blue and gold helmet, that looked much like Queen Nefertiti’s crown on the pictures in Dr. Corrigan’s lab.
She indeed bore a striking similarity to the long-dead Egyptian queen, with her warm, cinnamon-coloured skin, her long, graceful neck, high cheekbones and large, sensuous mouth. But her bare arms showed the sleek muscles of a strong man, and her large eyes glittered coldly like pieces of obsidian, emphasized by metallic blue eye make-up. Unlike the two males on her right, she didn’t wear an ankh-pendant. Since the ankh represented life for the Egyptians, that perhaps meant that she was infertile, which would have been a pity… for her and the entire gene pool of her people, exquisite as she was.
The other woman present seemed also beyond her first youth and very feminine and luscious… almost too much so. Radek usually liked a bit padding on his female partners (rare though they were), but you could definitely have too much of a good thing. The old-fashioned pin-up girls of American magazines would have been put to shame by this Beta female, whose voluptuous… assets threatened to spill out of her too-tight bodice.
Her chestnut hair was wrapped around her head in a beehive hairdo, and she was most likely as fertile as a queen bee. She also wore the ankh pendant, and elaborate earrings were jingling from her ears, their light metallic slithers almost touching her bare shoulders. Sure, she was very tempting, in the old, Magna Mater-like sense of the word, but her catlike eyes, outlined with green, were cold and calculating. Despite her looks, she was no mindless pleasure toy, and it would have been a grave mistake to underestimate her.
Unlike Major Sheppard - who, according to the mediator, was held somewhere in a jail cell - Teyla and Rodney were seated at the Synod’s table. Teyla, accepted in her Alpha status, got a seat between the two females, and Rodney, whose actual status had not been confirmed yet, had been placed on the right of the Beta male. Lieutenant Ford, wearing some artistically revealing golden foil garment in Furling fashion - one that brought out the warm colour of his skin and the trim shape of his body to the best advantage - was standing behind Teyla’s chair. His customary cheerful manner was gone now; he looked like a trapped animal, his eyes darting around nervously, as if he was looking for a way to escape.
Radek hadn’t had the time - or the nerves, to be completely honest - to come up with a working strategy in advance. But if you grew up behind the Iron Curtain, you learned to be light on your feet… and, just as importantly, to improvise. That was what Radek trusted in, and now, looking at Rodney’s nervous face, inspiration hit him all of a sudden.
That and renewed anger, that is.
Without waiting for anyone to greet him or, in fact, say anything to him, he marched up to the middle of the large chamber, put his hands on his hips in the manner of a wronged wife, and yelled at his boss with all the suppressed frustration of the last year or so.
“Rodney Ingram McKay,” he declared forcefully, “I’ve endured a lot from you, but enough is enough! What were you thinking? Just because you’ve found some alien impregnation machine, you think I’d be willing to be your brood-mare for wild-haired, fey children with astronomical IQs, god-like ATA genes and exotic brogues? Well, think again! And you better apologize by to that poor Carson when we get home, or I’ll have your hide for upsetting him so badly.”
Well, the last part was grossly exaggerated, to be honest. Carson’s only reaction to the news had in fact been a tolerant shake of his head and a tired “Och, Rodney, you must get yourself in trouble every time, mustn’t ya?” But Radek thought it would make more impact to show that both Rodney’s so-called bondmates were shocked by his actions. And it had felt good to add in that extra whilst he was at it.
In any case, his outbreak managed to shock the Furling government… priest class… Synod… whatever, thoroughly. He couldn’t know, of course, but by invoking Rodney’s full name - which he’d made up on the spot - he’d given the eccentric Canadian a very high status indeed, as only those of noble birth (and such people had become extremely rare during the recent millennia) possessed three names in Furling society. Most of them had only one, so that their lineage had to be added to official documents (not a big deal with their level of data compression). The members of the various city synods - not to be mistaken by the members of the Synod - had two. Aside from the big four present, perhaps a dozen or so Furlings on the entire planet could proudly state that they had three.
Equally unheard of was that the owner of three proud names would be verbally attacked - and in such a disrespectful manner - by anyone, even by their own bonded. Actually, bondmates of such an important person would consider their bonded status as the highest form of social achievement and would be frightened to death by the possibility of losing said status, so they would be even more polite and careful than anyone else, walking on eggshells around their Alpha in a fairly servile manner. Frankly, the shock of the Synod was more than understandable, under those circumstances, as the mediator later explained to the clueless people from Earth.
For approximately eighty seconds, no one in the conference room was able to speak from the sheer shock of such outrageous behaviour. Rodney’s mobile face mirrored an almost comical mix of shock and fury, too; it was clear to anyone who knew him that he’d love to rip Radek a new one, but he wasn’t stupid enough to interfere with a rescue mission, even if said rescue mission had unpleasant side effects.
Finally, the Warlord turned to Teyla and asked her slightly bewildered.
“Is that the way the Betas among these people treat their Alphas? How they behave towards those above their ranks? For if it is, then I am not surprised that the rude one in our holding cell dared to speak to me in the inexcusable way he did.”
“This is how sane people among us tread deluded ones,” Radek fumed, not ready to accept that the Warlord would discuss him with Teyla over his head. “To try and beat some sense back into their swollen heads. Rodney, I’ll make you pay for this! Dragging me away from important work, through Stargate, making all people in Atlantis speak about me… about… about us,” he added, with a truly murderous glare, one that made Rodney flinch. “You’ll have to make very great efforts to get back into my good graces again.”
He was so angry that he found it hard to keep his grip on the English language - a fairly illogical one at the best of times anyway. The beauty of the thing was, he had no idea that he was coincidentally using the very expressions typical for domestic squabbles among the Furlings, and that by treating Rodney the way he did, he automatically assumed himself a social status at least as high as Rodney’s was supposed to be, three names or no three names. The Furlings began to see at him with a different eye, although they still couldn’t understand what exactly had made him this mad.
“Does he believe his bonded intended to impregnate him against his will?” the Alpha female asked Teyla with a frown. Such an action was unthinkable among the Furlings - theoretically, it would have been one of the few crimes still calling for capital punishment. Practically speaking, it hadn’t happened for millennia; nobody remembered an actual case any more.
I believe he is under the false impression that Dr. McKay would want to talk him into experimenting with your fertility machine,” Teyla replied smoothly; the last thing they needed was to have Rodney imprisoned, too, for an arcane crime he didn’t even understand, not to mention attempted. “You see, Great Huntress, human males are not capable of bearing children. They do not have the right organs.”
“Not even the Betas?” the Nefertiti-look-alike asked in surprise.
“Humans, like my people, only have two genders,” Teyla explained, “and only the females can bear children.”
“That used to be the case with our people at the dawn of our civilization, too,” the Huntress said. “But we’ve long evolved beyond our lowly beginnings.”
“What a shame,” the Beta female said, addressing her companions with belittling pity in her sultry voice, as if to ignore the humans' presence entirely (bar Teyla as an Athosian). “We hoped that a species technically advanced as these people - even though they’re still far from our format - would have reached a higher biological and philosophical development as well. We’ve waited for such a species for so long… and it seems that once again, our hopes have been dashed.”
“A pity indeed,” the Beta male agreed, eyeing Radek with appreciation. “This one has intelligence as well as a fiery spirit. He’d make an excellent bondmate, even for a powerful Alpha.”
“He is busy enough without having to care for children,” Radek said darkly. “He doesn’t need children in lab to break things and smear sticky stuff on sensitive equipment with grubby little hands.”
“Does it mean that you haven’t bred yet at all?” the Beta male asked disapprovingly. “That is irresponsible. You owe it to your people to hand down your genes to the next generation - more so as you seem to be a gifted one.”
“I do have one daughter… female child,” Radek corrected, seeing that the word didn’t translate for the Furlings; perhaps they didn’t keep contact with their offspring after having produced it. “She lives far, far away, on different planet, safe. I shall not bring other children into this world, just to make more Wraith fodder.”
“That’s understandable,” the Beta male agreed readily. “The offspring has to be protected. I wish we could help you with that; but it doesn’t seem possible, not yet.”
“In any case,” the mediator interfered smoothly, before Radek could have asked the wrong question, “you can now see that the people who currently occupy Atlantis aren’t quite that as unenlightened as you had thought based on the behaviour of one individual. They are no threat for you; in fact, they could be very useful allies.
Wisely, Radek decided to refrain from mentioning ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell!’ That would only have the Furlings change their minds about the semi-enlightened state of Earth people, again.
“For you, perhaps, they can be useful,” the Huntress said to the mediator. “We have no need for any allies. The Wraith cannot follow us where we live now. And when we visit their domain, we are the hunters, not the prey.”
That answered the question about cloaking and shielding versus living in a different dimension. Although Radek was sure that a society so technically advanced wouldn’t refrain from the more… traditional means of defence, either. Unless they were arrogant or stupid, of course. Or both.
“Despite the proof you’ve brought us, we still don’t think that your people are philosophically enlightened enough for us to incorporate you in our society, despite our need of new genetic material,” the Chief Warlord said, speaking directly to Radek for the first time. “That, in my estimate, will need centuries to happen. So we see no other choice than to send you back to your own domain.”
That was fine with Radek, who really didn’t look forward to any possible genetic experiments that might or might not enable him to get pregnant with Rodney McKay’s child, of all people. Or with the child of anyone else, thank you very much. Any pregnancy that might happen around him in the not-so-near future would be carried out by Miko - or not at all.
He felt, however, that it was his duty to at least try to help the only member of their expedition who was in real trouble.
“When you return us to our own dimension,” he said, “can we take Major Sheppard with us?”
The Chief Warlord nodded. “We have no need for him here, considering the fact that he cannot breed,” he said. “But we do not wish to see him on our planet again…not him or anyone else from your people. Our Gate will be blocked to you, for a long time yet to come. Once you’ve overcome the shortcomings of your society - and your biology - you’ll be welcome again.”
Wisdom and past experience made Radek hold back the sarcastic remark that wanted to slip out of his mouth badly. The Furlings were so full of themselves; they couldn’t even imagine that someone might not wish to be integrated into their oh-so-perfect society. Well, for his part, Radek certainly didn’t. All he wanted was to get back to Atlantis, to his work and to his partners, and never walk through another Stargate again. Unless it was for a trip to Earth. But chances for that were about as slim as for him to give birth to Rodney’s baby.
To his great relief, the Holy Synod unceremoniously dismissed them a few minutes later. While they were waiting for the release of Major Sheppard, he got to take a look at the Beta’s holographic viewscreen, and though the technology behind it was beyond his understanding, he at least got an inkling of how it worked. He would tell Miko, whose field was computer imagining systems (among other things) about it. Perhaps one day, something will come out of it. That would make this whole trip a bit less of a waste of time.
They were escorted back to the Gate cave, where a somewhat dishevelled Major Sheppard was already waiting for them. He seemed safe and sound, although royally pissed, and they returned to Atlantis without further delay.
Go to the Epilogue
Author: Soledad
Fandom: Stargate-Atlantis
Genre: Action/adventure, Humour
Rating: General, suitable for all
Pairings: Radek/?/? - anything else would be telling. And it’s all implied anyway.
Warnings: none, unless you’re squicked out by the idea of Mpreg or cross-genre threesomes.
Spoilers: “The Torment of Tantalus” (SG-1, 1.11), “Crystal Skull” (SG-1, 3.21), and “Paradise Lost” (SG-1, 6.15)
Timeframe: Late Season 1, so that I could add my favourite supporting characters who never made it into Season 2.
Summary: Answering the 2007 Radek ficathon challenge. Written for leaper182.
The prompt was: When Sheppard's team is trapped off-world, they need Radek's help to get back to Atlantis. Slash (either Radek/Rodney or Radek/Carson) is lovely, but not required.
Series/sequel: none. Although the story uses the settings of my Darkroom alternate universe, it’s independent from everything I’ve ever written in this fandom.
Disclaimer: don’t own them, no money made. Only the wacky planet and a bunch of OCs belong to me.
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PLAN Z, PART 3
As the mediator had told them, the gut-wrenching trip through the Stargate ended in some enormous cage. It seemed completely empty, save from the Gate itself - and nobody was waiting for them.
“Are we not expected?” Radek turned to the mediator, but to his mild shock, his hand went right through the man’s arm when he tried to get some support, as if it didn’t have any substance at all. “Oh,” he said, understanding what was happening. “Interdimensional displacement has already taken place. Good that I’m brilliant scientist; otherwise I would freak out now.”
The mediator didn’t answer, and Radek vaguely remembered Dr. Corrigan having said something about the one-sidedness of the interdimensional experience. He’d have to read SG-1’s report about P7X-377, should he get the chance. Or talk to Dr. Jackson, in the unlikely case that they ever got back to Earth. It would be interesting to compare their experiences.
He asked himself how long the Furlings would need to realize that he was harmless, and how they could tell to begin with; and whether he’d have to spend hours in this cave, which was not a very inviting place, even in its current, non-substantial state. Bored and annoyed wasn’t even beginning to describe his state of mind, but he knew better than to complain. Making the ones with the power mad was never a good idea.
So he waited with forced patience, until he saw the mediator turning towards him, which he interpreted as a sign that they were in the same dimension again. He was proved right the next moment, when Diggory jovially slapped his back.
“They returned you to the real world, I see,” the Manaran exclaimed. “Good, good! The archway shall be opening any minute now.”
As if to prove his words true, all of a sudden a gate became outlined in the previously solid cave wall: a great, trapezoid frame, filled with white light.
“And here it is,” Diggory announced cheerfully - way too cheerfully for Radek’s taste.
“What now?” he asked morosely.
“Now we walk through the archway and will find us… wherever the Furlings want us to be,” Diggory explained. “The council chamber of the Synod is the most likely place; that’s where they talk to the rare outsiders they allow to visit their planet. Don’t worry; you won’t feel a thing during transfer.”
“They say the same about Stargate travel,” Radek grumbled. “And it is not true for Stargate travel.”
“You feel something when passing through a Gate?” Diggory asked in surprise.
“Nausea,” Radek answered darkly. “I feel nausea. That’s why I prefer sitting in nice, safe lab, back in Atlantis.”
“Well, that’s not an option right now,” Diggory said with an apologetic shrug. “But you can trust me: the archway is completely safe. I’ve walked through it several times, and I’m still here. Come now; you wouldn’t want to make the Furlings wait. That can make them… cranky.”
“Sounds like Rodney,” Radek said, eyeing the archway suspiciously. The Stargate was at least a known quality, even though he disliked using it. This, however… “Perhaps I should leave them to each other,” he started backing off physically already. “Perhaps they would make perfect match.”
“Unlikely,” the mediator said dryly. “Please follow me now.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Radek closed his eyes and allowed Diggory to drag him through the archway. The trip didn’t give him the same feeling of disorientation as the Stargate. It was rather as if he’d been sucked in by some sort of maelstrom and spat out at the other end.
“It takes a bit of practice,” Diggory commented unnecessarily, and extended a hand to help Radek up. Radek accepted the help, got up awkwardly, wiped his hands on his trousers and looked around in the room, completely awestruck.
They were standing in some sort of antechamber, the walls of which were translucent, allowing them a look at the most extraordinary cityscape Radek had ever seen - and that seen from the upmost level of a ten-storey house. The utilitarian, geometric shapes; the matte silver or bronze or broken white glimmer of the buildings; the walkways that interconnected with them in broadly-swung spirals and wide curves - all of it could have been imagined by a first class CGI artist of a big budget sci-fi movie. None of the buildings seemed to have any windows, but based on the room he was standing right now, perhaps the walls were one-sidedly translucent, making windows unnecessary. The tallest buildings were fifteen to twenty storeys high. The city stretched in every direction as far as Radek could see; and he couldn’t even calculate the amount of energy that was necessary to cloak and shield a settlement of this magnitude. Yet the Furlings must have managed it somehow, given the fact that the Wraith hadn’t found them during the millennia they'd lived in this galaxy.
Unless, of course, the entire civilization existed in a parallel dimension.
Between the buildings there were wide, open places with perfectly manicured parks; the enormous trees and bushes were not the usual green but rather a bluish shade, which made Radek think that the primary star of the planet must have been a white or blue giant, with a different kind of radiation than the sun of Earth - or even that of Atlantis. Radek wondered what the inhabitants would look like. Having developed under such a different sun must have left its traces on their appearance.
A second glance around the room answered Radek’s question, at least partially. A few technicians, easily recognizable by their coveralls - even though those looked as if made out of thin silver foil - were working at various consoles. Every single one of them was male, about Radek’s height or even shorter, but somewhat more delicately built. They were olive-skinned with a slight greenish hue, their black hair was metallic-looking, with blue highlights, and at least two of them were very obviously pregnant, displaying the unmistakable mannerisms that for humans would be characteristic of child-bearing women.
The only woman present stood in front of a large, circular door, the frame of which was adorned with symbols of the Furling alphabet, but without an actual keyhole or any visible opening mechanism. The woman was tall, lean and long-limbed, built like a runner, but with the cold, wary eyes of a professional soldier. She wore long, black skin-tight pants of the same metal foil, to that of the technicians’ outfits, as well as a top that left her midriff bare. She was so flat-chested that one could have mistaken her for a young man, and a long, gleaming golden braid was hanging over one of her shoulders. She was armed with a hand-held weapon that had some vague similarity to the Goa’uld zat’nikitel and there was no mistaking that she was a warrior, someone who could use it well.
“Are you the one called Zelenka?” she asked in a business-like manner, and as Radek nodded, she simply touched the door with her palm.
The door - vanished. Just like that. Behind it, a large room with a U-shaped table could be seen. A lot of people were sitting at the table, but for the moment, Radek only had eyes for the door itself. His mind whirled, trying to figure out how such a door could possibly function. He didn’t even realize that he was muttering to himself in Czech, forming theories and rejecting them in rapid success.
“The Holy Synod is awaiting you,” the female soldier reminded, and she stepped to the side, so that Radek could enter the room.
He did as instructed and looked around, eager to see everything that was there to see - and that was quite a lot. The room was a strange, anachronistic mix of ancient temple and advanced technology. The wide expanse of its walls was covered with ceramic reliefs that had the look of Mayan calendar plates, made of reddish-brown ceramic and inlaid with gold. Instead of lamps or windows, it was illuminated by large, gently glowing white surfaces that could, perhaps, also serve as viewscreens, if necessary.
A look at the people present gave Radek the weird feeling as if he’d been transferred to an episode of that old “Lost in Space” TV-show… sans Robbie the Robot. Everyone was clad in skin-tight clothes, made of the same thin, metallic foil - only the cut and the colour varied, presumably according to each individual’s gender, rank or perhaps occupation. Four of them were sitting with Teyla and McKay on the narrow side of the U-shape, facing the door. They must have been the leading representatives of the four genders, because their attire was the most sophisticated and richly decorated.
There was one of them who caught Radek’s eye immediately: a literal giant of a man, at the very least 6’4’’ and shaped like a professional bodybuilder. His upper body was naked, save from a richly adorned collar made of a yellow metal - perhaps gold - and set with small, multicoloured stones. Those stones could be also glass baubles or jewels - or control buttons for some unknown technology. It was hard to tell. The collar covered the entire upper half of the man’s broad chest. He was olive-skinned and wore his glittering copper hair in a topknot. Dramatic eye-makeup emphasized his already large eyes, making his lids look like green metallic shells. He wore a pendant similar to the Ancient Egyptian ankh symbol hanging on a golden chain from the collar, and also one of those zat’nikitel-like weapons, only a bigger and more ornate one. Based on his size and aggressive, edgy body language, Radek made the educated guess that this man had to be the Chief Warlord - the one who had proposed to Major Sheppard.
On the Warlord’s right sat a middle-aged looking man: smooth-faced, a bit rotund, but still very beautiful. His elegantly greying hair, arranged in a fairly extravagant fashion, was sticking out in every direction. If that was the traditional hairdo of a high-ranking, well-bred Beta male, it was easy to understand why Sheppard had caught the chief’s eye; his usual bed hair style looked surprisingly similar.
The lead Beta also wore elaborate make-up, his impossibly long eyelashes emphasized by thick, dark mascara, and his small mouth painted red and outlined with a darker colour. A shimmering piece of fabric, folded like a toga from Ancient Rome, covered the no longer absolutely perfect curves of his body. His collar - or perhaps personalized control console - and ankh pendant were the same as those worn by the Alpha, but he also wore jewelled rings and wrist-guards; it was impossible to tell if they were pieces of sophisticated technology or merely adornment.
There was a strange piece of apparatus standing on the table in front of him. It looked like the local version of a laptop, but instead of a screen, all it had was an empty frame. Radek guessed that it had to be some sort of three-dimensional holographic projector, and his fingers began to itch. If he could get a chance to take a closer look…
But the wary face of the woman on the Warlord’s left reminded him that this wasn’t the right time for scientific curiosity. She must have been the head of the Alpha females, as she was dressed like the female soldier guarding the door - armed, too - but she also had the same Egyptian-style collar as the males, and even an elongated, metallic blue and gold helmet, that looked much like Queen Nefertiti’s crown on the pictures in Dr. Corrigan’s lab.
She indeed bore a striking similarity to the long-dead Egyptian queen, with her warm, cinnamon-coloured skin, her long, graceful neck, high cheekbones and large, sensuous mouth. But her bare arms showed the sleek muscles of a strong man, and her large eyes glittered coldly like pieces of obsidian, emphasized by metallic blue eye make-up. Unlike the two males on her right, she didn’t wear an ankh-pendant. Since the ankh represented life for the Egyptians, that perhaps meant that she was infertile, which would have been a pity… for her and the entire gene pool of her people, exquisite as she was.
The other woman present seemed also beyond her first youth and very feminine and luscious… almost too much so. Radek usually liked a bit padding on his female partners (rare though they were), but you could definitely have too much of a good thing. The old-fashioned pin-up girls of American magazines would have been put to shame by this Beta female, whose voluptuous… assets threatened to spill out of her too-tight bodice.
Her chestnut hair was wrapped around her head in a beehive hairdo, and she was most likely as fertile as a queen bee. She also wore the ankh pendant, and elaborate earrings were jingling from her ears, their light metallic slithers almost touching her bare shoulders. Sure, she was very tempting, in the old, Magna Mater-like sense of the word, but her catlike eyes, outlined with green, were cold and calculating. Despite her looks, she was no mindless pleasure toy, and it would have been a grave mistake to underestimate her.
Unlike Major Sheppard - who, according to the mediator, was held somewhere in a jail cell - Teyla and Rodney were seated at the Synod’s table. Teyla, accepted in her Alpha status, got a seat between the two females, and Rodney, whose actual status had not been confirmed yet, had been placed on the right of the Beta male. Lieutenant Ford, wearing some artistically revealing golden foil garment in Furling fashion - one that brought out the warm colour of his skin and the trim shape of his body to the best advantage - was standing behind Teyla’s chair. His customary cheerful manner was gone now; he looked like a trapped animal, his eyes darting around nervously, as if he was looking for a way to escape.
Radek hadn’t had the time - or the nerves, to be completely honest - to come up with a working strategy in advance. But if you grew up behind the Iron Curtain, you learned to be light on your feet… and, just as importantly, to improvise. That was what Radek trusted in, and now, looking at Rodney’s nervous face, inspiration hit him all of a sudden.
That and renewed anger, that is.
Without waiting for anyone to greet him or, in fact, say anything to him, he marched up to the middle of the large chamber, put his hands on his hips in the manner of a wronged wife, and yelled at his boss with all the suppressed frustration of the last year or so.
“Rodney Ingram McKay,” he declared forcefully, “I’ve endured a lot from you, but enough is enough! What were you thinking? Just because you’ve found some alien impregnation machine, you think I’d be willing to be your brood-mare for wild-haired, fey children with astronomical IQs, god-like ATA genes and exotic brogues? Well, think again! And you better apologize by to that poor Carson when we get home, or I’ll have your hide for upsetting him so badly.”
Well, the last part was grossly exaggerated, to be honest. Carson’s only reaction to the news had in fact been a tolerant shake of his head and a tired “Och, Rodney, you must get yourself in trouble every time, mustn’t ya?” But Radek thought it would make more impact to show that both Rodney’s so-called bondmates were shocked by his actions. And it had felt good to add in that extra whilst he was at it.
In any case, his outbreak managed to shock the Furling government… priest class… Synod… whatever, thoroughly. He couldn’t know, of course, but by invoking Rodney’s full name - which he’d made up on the spot - he’d given the eccentric Canadian a very high status indeed, as only those of noble birth (and such people had become extremely rare during the recent millennia) possessed three names in Furling society. Most of them had only one, so that their lineage had to be added to official documents (not a big deal with their level of data compression). The members of the various city synods - not to be mistaken by the members of the Synod - had two. Aside from the big four present, perhaps a dozen or so Furlings on the entire planet could proudly state that they had three.
Equally unheard of was that the owner of three proud names would be verbally attacked - and in such a disrespectful manner - by anyone, even by their own bonded. Actually, bondmates of such an important person would consider their bonded status as the highest form of social achievement and would be frightened to death by the possibility of losing said status, so they would be even more polite and careful than anyone else, walking on eggshells around their Alpha in a fairly servile manner. Frankly, the shock of the Synod was more than understandable, under those circumstances, as the mediator later explained to the clueless people from Earth.
For approximately eighty seconds, no one in the conference room was able to speak from the sheer shock of such outrageous behaviour. Rodney’s mobile face mirrored an almost comical mix of shock and fury, too; it was clear to anyone who knew him that he’d love to rip Radek a new one, but he wasn’t stupid enough to interfere with a rescue mission, even if said rescue mission had unpleasant side effects.
Finally, the Warlord turned to Teyla and asked her slightly bewildered.
“Is that the way the Betas among these people treat their Alphas? How they behave towards those above their ranks? For if it is, then I am not surprised that the rude one in our holding cell dared to speak to me in the inexcusable way he did.”
“This is how sane people among us tread deluded ones,” Radek fumed, not ready to accept that the Warlord would discuss him with Teyla over his head. “To try and beat some sense back into their swollen heads. Rodney, I’ll make you pay for this! Dragging me away from important work, through Stargate, making all people in Atlantis speak about me… about… about us,” he added, with a truly murderous glare, one that made Rodney flinch. “You’ll have to make very great efforts to get back into my good graces again.”
He was so angry that he found it hard to keep his grip on the English language - a fairly illogical one at the best of times anyway. The beauty of the thing was, he had no idea that he was coincidentally using the very expressions typical for domestic squabbles among the Furlings, and that by treating Rodney the way he did, he automatically assumed himself a social status at least as high as Rodney’s was supposed to be, three names or no three names. The Furlings began to see at him with a different eye, although they still couldn’t understand what exactly had made him this mad.
“Does he believe his bonded intended to impregnate him against his will?” the Alpha female asked Teyla with a frown. Such an action was unthinkable among the Furlings - theoretically, it would have been one of the few crimes still calling for capital punishment. Practically speaking, it hadn’t happened for millennia; nobody remembered an actual case any more.
I believe he is under the false impression that Dr. McKay would want to talk him into experimenting with your fertility machine,” Teyla replied smoothly; the last thing they needed was to have Rodney imprisoned, too, for an arcane crime he didn’t even understand, not to mention attempted. “You see, Great Huntress, human males are not capable of bearing children. They do not have the right organs.”
“Not even the Betas?” the Nefertiti-look-alike asked in surprise.
“Humans, like my people, only have two genders,” Teyla explained, “and only the females can bear children.”
“That used to be the case with our people at the dawn of our civilization, too,” the Huntress said. “But we’ve long evolved beyond our lowly beginnings.”
“What a shame,” the Beta female said, addressing her companions with belittling pity in her sultry voice, as if to ignore the humans' presence entirely (bar Teyla as an Athosian). “We hoped that a species technically advanced as these people - even though they’re still far from our format - would have reached a higher biological and philosophical development as well. We’ve waited for such a species for so long… and it seems that once again, our hopes have been dashed.”
“A pity indeed,” the Beta male agreed, eyeing Radek with appreciation. “This one has intelligence as well as a fiery spirit. He’d make an excellent bondmate, even for a powerful Alpha.”
“He is busy enough without having to care for children,” Radek said darkly. “He doesn’t need children in lab to break things and smear sticky stuff on sensitive equipment with grubby little hands.”
“Does it mean that you haven’t bred yet at all?” the Beta male asked disapprovingly. “That is irresponsible. You owe it to your people to hand down your genes to the next generation - more so as you seem to be a gifted one.”
“I do have one daughter… female child,” Radek corrected, seeing that the word didn’t translate for the Furlings; perhaps they didn’t keep contact with their offspring after having produced it. “She lives far, far away, on different planet, safe. I shall not bring other children into this world, just to make more Wraith fodder.”
“That’s understandable,” the Beta male agreed readily. “The offspring has to be protected. I wish we could help you with that; but it doesn’t seem possible, not yet.”
“In any case,” the mediator interfered smoothly, before Radek could have asked the wrong question, “you can now see that the people who currently occupy Atlantis aren’t quite that as unenlightened as you had thought based on the behaviour of one individual. They are no threat for you; in fact, they could be very useful allies.
Wisely, Radek decided to refrain from mentioning ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell!’ That would only have the Furlings change their minds about the semi-enlightened state of Earth people, again.
“For you, perhaps, they can be useful,” the Huntress said to the mediator. “We have no need for any allies. The Wraith cannot follow us where we live now. And when we visit their domain, we are the hunters, not the prey.”
That answered the question about cloaking and shielding versus living in a different dimension. Although Radek was sure that a society so technically advanced wouldn’t refrain from the more… traditional means of defence, either. Unless they were arrogant or stupid, of course. Or both.
“Despite the proof you’ve brought us, we still don’t think that your people are philosophically enlightened enough for us to incorporate you in our society, despite our need of new genetic material,” the Chief Warlord said, speaking directly to Radek for the first time. “That, in my estimate, will need centuries to happen. So we see no other choice than to send you back to your own domain.”
That was fine with Radek, who really didn’t look forward to any possible genetic experiments that might or might not enable him to get pregnant with Rodney McKay’s child, of all people. Or with the child of anyone else, thank you very much. Any pregnancy that might happen around him in the not-so-near future would be carried out by Miko - or not at all.
He felt, however, that it was his duty to at least try to help the only member of their expedition who was in real trouble.
“When you return us to our own dimension,” he said, “can we take Major Sheppard with us?”
The Chief Warlord nodded. “We have no need for him here, considering the fact that he cannot breed,” he said. “But we do not wish to see him on our planet again…not him or anyone else from your people. Our Gate will be blocked to you, for a long time yet to come. Once you’ve overcome the shortcomings of your society - and your biology - you’ll be welcome again.”
Wisdom and past experience made Radek hold back the sarcastic remark that wanted to slip out of his mouth badly. The Furlings were so full of themselves; they couldn’t even imagine that someone might not wish to be integrated into their oh-so-perfect society. Well, for his part, Radek certainly didn’t. All he wanted was to get back to Atlantis, to his work and to his partners, and never walk through another Stargate again. Unless it was for a trip to Earth. But chances for that were about as slim as for him to give birth to Rodney’s baby.
To his great relief, the Holy Synod unceremoniously dismissed them a few minutes later. While they were waiting for the release of Major Sheppard, he got to take a look at the Beta’s holographic viewscreen, and though the technology behind it was beyond his understanding, he at least got an inkling of how it worked. He would tell Miko, whose field was computer imagining systems (among other things) about it. Perhaps one day, something will come out of it. That would make this whole trip a bit less of a waste of time.
They were escorted back to the Gate cave, where a somewhat dishevelled Major Sheppard was already waiting for them. He seemed safe and sound, although royally pissed, and they returned to Atlantis without further delay.
Go to the Epilogue