Into the Whirlwind - Chapter 8
Title: Into the Whirlwind - Chapter 8 / 11
Words: 8,023 this chapter (~63k total)
Previous parts / Summary: Master Post, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7
Chapter Note: In which new people arrive and settle in, and there are disturbing developments.
=== Chapter 8 -- Troubled Waters ===
--- 8.1 ---
(April 7, 2010)
Sam was on another planet.
Sam was on another planet, and in an alien city. It was by far the coolest thing he'd experienced, closely followed the trip aboard a spaceship he'd made to get there. The facts that it had taken three weeks, the bunk had been too small, and the food hadn't been too good were all completely irrelevant to the flight's sheer awesomeness. Besides, there had been a number of interesting lectures to take up all the free time, although neither Sam nor any of the other new people aboard had been able to tell for sure when the handful of veterans aboard were telling the truth and when they were pulling people's legs. He was fairly certain that there wasn't any such thing as man-eating pine trees, for example.
In any case, they'd finally arrived. Unfortunately Daedalus hadn't landed so they hadn't been able to see the city from the air, but with any luck he'd be able to get up in one of the 'puddle jumpers' soon and take a look. Instead Sam and the other hundred-some passengers had been beamed directly down into a large, empty hall somewhere in the city. Sam couldn't help but stare at his surroundings in awe. Everything seemed to be made out of some sort of metallic material that he didn't recognize, colored with a subtle fractal-like pattern made of dozens different shades of red, tan, and bronze with a bit of green thrown in here and there. Most stunning of all was a floor to ceiling stained glass window through which he could see choppy waves. The entire hall had a strange alien feel to it, and it took Sam a minute to realize it wasn't just his mind playing games with him but rather that there wasn't a single right angle to be seen in the room, nor any symmetry.
"Hey, new guys, over this way," someone called, jerking him back to reality. Sam turned to see a sandy-haired man with a green-paneled jacket waving off to end of the room. "Civilians to my left, military to my right. No, my other right. David! Dr. Brown needs to talk to you about the aquatic garden on the northwest pier immediately; there's been another amorous fire-squid incident."
One of the veterans who had been on the Daedalus, a botanist if Sam remember correctly, shook his head and sighed. "Love you too, Chuck."
Sam started to head over to the Canadian when he was nearly bowled over by something not unlike a short bear. It took him a moment to realize it wasn't trying to eat him, but rather hug him, and that it wasn't an alien bear, but his older brother Dean. It certainly an improvement, because it would have really sucked to be attacked by wildlife within minutes of arriving. Not that he'd admit it, of course.
"Sam! It's about time got here," Dean was saying while doing his best to squeeze the life from Sam. He half-heartedly tried to hug Dean back, which proved difficult as his arms were effectively pinned to his sides.
"Hey," he managed to gasp out. "Can't breathe."
"Pansy," Dean said with a gruff, affectionate tone as he took a step back. "How have you been?"
"Good." Sam tipped his head to the side slightly, because he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing. "You're... cheery. You're never cheery. What are you up to?"
"Can't I just be glad to see my little brother?"
"Younger," Sam corrected, "And no." The answer wasn't exactly true, of course, because Dean was always happy to see him, just like Sam was always happy to see him in one piece. He knew Dean adored him - he had joined the Corps specifically to put both of them through college, after all - but smiling like a maniac just wasn't something the guy did even when he came home on leave. Sure, he grinned and laughed when having fun, smirked triumphantly, maybe even smiled softly when he thought no one was looking - but cheer? That didn't show up unless he was hammered or thought it would get him into someone's pants.
"You're just being stubborn now." Dean turned and raised his voice. "Chuck! It all right if I take him? I promise he'll be back in time for the welcome dinner."
"Just make sure he doesn't touch anything, sir," Chuck replied. "He's in C-92-113, down the hall from you like you asked."
"Thanks!" Dean started to drag Sam out of the jumper bay and into a hallway. "Come on, you'll love this. If we drop your bag off quick, we can make it out to the east pier in time."
"Time for what?" Sam said, stumbling along. "And how's pulling me into a closet going to help?"
"Watch." Dean tapped a little map at the back wall, once on a spot near the center and then on two numbers at the side, and the doors slid shut. When they opened again, they weren't where they had been. Dean gave him a little shove and Sam found himself face to face with another ceiling-to-floor window, this one clear and looking out over spires of glass and metal and an endless ocean beyond. He had a sudden moment of vertigo as he realized he was about a hundred stories up and there was nothing between him and a very, very long drop to the hard deck below but a thin pane of glass, but that feeling quickly passed and was replaced once more by the word awesome.
"Oh, wow," Sam said, looking down. The late afternoon sun seemed to turn the entire city into a giant jewel made of ruby and amber as light reflected off countless windows. "Nice view."
"Yeah, yeah. Enough gawking, we're on a schedule." Dean walked off and Sam reluctantly followed him. Maybe half a minute later they stopped in front of a door and Dean waved his hand of a trio of glowing rectangles to the side, causing it to slide open. Sam stepped inside and looked around. Much like the arrival hall, this room was an oddly-shaped polyhedron. There were windows along one wall, a door leading into what Sam assumed was the bathroom, and over in one corner was a decently large bed. There were also a few chairs and other furniture haphazardly strewn about the room. In all, it was probably a little bigger than the studio apartment he'd been living in back on Earth.
"This the best you got?" Sam asked as he finished looking around.
"Quit your bitching," Dean replied. "Everyone's got something like this, even the command staff. I'm just down the hall myself."
"What, you're not off with all the other marines?"
"Everyone's mixed together. It's safer that way, no single target to hit and wipe out the command structure. That's the only reason the living quarters aren't all in one building, for that matter."
"Right..." Sam replied after a second, frowning at the reply. The fact that his brother had delivered it so matter-of-factly, as if it was normal to think in terms of targets when talking about living arrangements, was a bit disturbing. It also brought up another question. "So, uh. I thought you were planning on getting out of the service in a few months."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I was, but then they assigned me here for a trial tour because of the gene, and that was that. I mean, this place is great, really just... great. Fantastic, even...." Dean drifted off for a moment, then he shook his head and continued. "Once I knew for sure you were coming, I figured there wasn't anything left back on Earth anyways so why not save the hassle and re-up?" Dean's broad grin suddenly was replaced by a frown. "There isn't anything on Earth, is there? Tell me there isn't a girl or something."
"No, no. Well. Not anymore." The less said about Sam's love life as of late, the better.
The grin came back instantly. "Good. Actually, there's actually this chick in biochemistry I think you'd like."
Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Don't even start this again."
"Okay, if not biochem girl, I bet we could get a double date with the Sanchez twins."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding my own dates, Dean."
Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."
Sam was saved from further torment when a woman's voice came out of nowhere. "Dean? You asked me to remind you of the test flight. They're starting preflight now, you should get moving if you want to get there in time."
"Oh, thanks, Mike. Come on, you dork, you don't want to miss this."
Dean lead the way back out the hall and back to the closet-transporter-thing, and once they were inside he once again tapped a place on what had to be a map of the city out near the eastern edge. There was a momentary flash and they emerged from the building out onto a wide open field nearly at ocean level. A glance to one direction revealed a disorganized mess of towers that grew taller and taller and drew his eyes the central spire reaching up into the wispy clouds. In the other direction was a low building of some kind with a wide-open door, maybe a hangar. There was a crowd around them and after a moment a lanky, wild-haired man emerged and came their way. He had a pistol strapped to his thigh -- and suddenly Sam realized that so did Dean, and so did well over half the people around them -- and even stranger a red sling over his chest that held a tiny form.
"Afternoon, Captain Winchester," the man said, and Dean's spine was suddenly ramrod-straight.
"Sir, I'd like to introduce my brother Sam," he said. "Sam, this is Colonel Sheppard, my CO."
"Nice to meet you, Sam," Sheppard said. He offered Sam his hand and he took it after a moment's shock. "I've heard good things about you."
"Ah, it's an honor, sir," Sam stuttered, barely able to get the words out because he had just come face to face with someone who was literally world-famous and fought space vampires for a living. It was at that moment that it clicked that it meant Dean fought space vampires for a living, too. Wasn't that just typical.
"Your brother's a good man, I'm glad we've got him here." Sam wondered if he had fallen into a Twilight Zone episode. He was in an alien city, he had just met John Fucking Sheppard, and his brother was grinning like a loon. It just wasn't natural. Dean hadn't really, truly smiled much even before he'd become a Big Tough Marine, and now he was acting like a puppy getting his tummy rubbed.
Sheppard chuckled and turned away to point at the hangar. "They should be coming out any minute now. Hey, you're a space guy, right?"
Sam swallowed. "Yes, sir." It was an understatement, because up until he'd suddenly gotten a letter from his brother and another from Dr. Radek Zelenka, he had been working for Scaled Composites. It would have been the job of a lifetime, adapting newly declassified technology to one of the few existing purely civilian spacecraft, except then he was being asked to leave for another galaxy. It hadn't been a hard choice. Sam wasn't about to say any of that to John Sheppard, though, because... he was John Sheppard. John Sheppard, who knew what Sam did for a living.
Sheppard listened to something on his radio and grinned. "You'll like this."
The air filled with a low humming noise, then a metal brick started to slowly float out of the hangar door. It wasn't huge, maybe as large as an old 727 but certainly not close to an A-380, but the fact that it was in the air at all was remarkable. It looked more like a brick with a pair of stubby engine nacelles slapped on than a spacecraft, with no thought given to aerodynamics beyond slanted nose. At several points around the hull there were large gaps in the hull, inside which cables and other equipment that Sam couldn't recognize were visible. The ship certainly didn't have any of the grace curves of one of the Spaceships or White Knights, nor was it anywhere near the size of a battle cruiser, but it still had a certain practical elegance to that nearly made his head freeze up as he watched it putter around.
The ship slowly did a pass by the cheering crowd and reached the edge of the pier, where it turned in a jerky, uneven circle to head back the way it had come. It was barely floating a few dozen feet above the field, but height didn't really matter because if you could resist gravity at twenty feet you could resist it more easily at twenty thousand. Given that the thing had to weigh around five, maybe even ten thousand tons, it was pretty damned impressive.
Right around the time he thought that, the hum turned into more of a warble and the ship started to sink, bobbed up a few feet before heading downward once more, before finally plummeting like a brick the last few to land with a loud clang. The cheering stopped and everyone looked around at each other, until at some radio signal Sam couldn't hear they all started to laugh.
"Asimov's still got a few kinks that need fixed," Sheppard said, shaking his head and chuckling. "I bet Rodney will have you working on it pretty soon, or maybe on the cruiser design."
Sam nearly fell over when he realized that he'd be working with Rodney McKay. He didn't know whether to be thrilled or frightened.
The rest of the night after that was something of a blur. Dean dragged Sam around the city on a grand tour, taking them up and down so many stairs that by the end it felt like his legs were going to drop off. Along the way he pointed out various features ranging from the mundane ("toilet paper dispenser -- makes it right there, weird, huh?") to vitally important ("Closet like this in every occupied area, with gas masks and first aid kits.") to the just plain weird ("It's either abstract art or a three-d representation of a five-d object, but either way it's ugly as fuck."). Eventually they ended up at a welcoming party out on the west pier, where they ate, drank, and danced until the early hours of the morning, with Sam being forced to admit that Dean might be on to something regarding the Sanchez twins.
Finally, at around two in the morning, they finally got back to Sam's quarters, with Dean stumbling off after a final promise and/or threat to get Sam up early so they could get down to the range for weapons qualifications. Sam made use of the Ancient restroom, which wasn't much different from a normal one except he could control it with his brain, and then stripped down to this boxers and fell into bed. He wasn't expecting to get much sleep that night, because he hated sleeping in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. With any luck he'd adjust quickly, but he knew he was probably in for a few restless nights first.
Sure enough, he ended up tossing and turning constantly, unable to find a comfortable position, and every time it seemed like he was finally starting to fall asleep he'd be jolted awake by a strange noise. Things continued that way for at least an hour, until something changed without warning. It was like someone had flipped a switch to let all the tension out of his body, and as he finally began to slip away he could hear someone singing a lullaby. The soft and soothing voice was dimly familiar, like he could almost connect it with some nearly-forgotten memory.
"Mom?" he mumbled, half-asleep and confused.
"Hush, love," the voice said. "You need to get some rest. You're not going to get a lot of chances for a while, not around here."
"'Kay," he said, and he drifted off.
--- 8.2 ---
(April 8, 2010)
The morning after the Daedalus arrived, Diane Pierson walked through the steel and glass corridors of Atlantis on her way to her first appointment of the day. After three weeks stuck aboard the starship, it was good to walk freely around and have something to look at other than drab grey walls. She was still inside, true enough, but these metal halls were far easier on the eye, and the knowledge that just outside was a warm breeze and a sunny sky made them a thousand times less oppressive. Having someone new to talk to was also a thrill, as she'd run through almost everyone on the ship barely halfway through the voyage even though she'd done her best to pace herself. Still, she would have been willing to spend three months aboard the ship for an opportunity like this.
Diane came to what she hoped was the correct room and pressed the glowing crystal she'd been told was the door bell. A minute later, the door slid open and revealed a tall, dark-skinned woman with long hair who was wearing a sleeveless shirt. She held herself with a light, graceful poise that reminded Diane of a professional dancer.
"Ms. Emmagen?" Diane said. "I'm Diane Pierson, I have an appointment to speak with you, I believe."
"Ah, yes, the 'in-bed' reporter. Mr. Woolsey told me you would be here this morning. Come in and make yourself comfortable, and please, call me Teyla." Teyla stepped back and waved her in toward a pair of low chairs. Nearby was a crib, made of wood and obviously hand-crafted, in which a young toddler was soundly asleep. The room was decorated with a number of candles and fine drapes, and on the wall hung several paintings, including what had to be a portrait of Teyla's team.
"Thank you, Teyla, and by all means call me Diane."
"I hope you had a pleasant journey," Teyla said as they settled into the chairs.
"It was dull, but that hardly matters now that I'm here. It's a real privileged to be here, and I want to thank you for taking the time to talk with me."
"It is no trouble at all."
Diane powered up the tablet she'd been issued and opened up the note taking program, then pulled out a microphone and plugged it in. "I hope you don't mind if I record this."
"Not at all."
"Thank you." Diane started up the recording and began the interview with a few simple warm-up questions, such as how she had come to join the expedition and what her position currently was. Diane knew all that, of course, but she felt that with an interview like this it was important to lay the groundwork first. Then she moved on to the first item on her agenda.
"Now, as I understand, you've currently got the distinction of the being the only mother living in Atlantis, or at least the only one who's raising a child here at the moment."
Teyla looked over at her son with the heartfelt smile of a mother. "Yes, that is correct. His name is Torren John, after my father and Colonel Sheppard."
"It must be difficult to raise a child by yourself, especially when you're still taking such an active role in the city's operations and going off-world."
Teyla laughed softly and shook her head. "No, not at all. I am hardly alone, either. His father is away at the moment, true, but his uncles -- that is, my team mates -- are all here for us, and everyone in the city from Mr. Woolsey down have been most supportive. There have been a few sleepless nights, true, but they have been worth it."
"Still, don't you worry about the fact that he's living in a place like this?"
Teyla looked puzzled and shook her head. "He will grow up in the city of the Ancestors and surrounded by family. How could I not be happy about that?"
"Surely you must be concerned about the danger to him?"
"Diane, he is in far less danger here than elsewhere. Atlantis may be more of a target that most worlds, yes, but here there are shields to keep out attackers. There may be dangerous technology, but it is certainly no more dangerous than a camp or village. The fact that he has even made it to his present age is a testament to the gifts your people have given mine."
"How so?"
"Medicine, among other things. Since your doctors began caring for us, only two children have died of disease. Many others, both young and old, have survived wounds and illnesses they would not have otherwise. Sometimes I think many from your developed nations forget what great a blessing your doctors are."
Diane nodded "That's certainly true, but I have to wonder if medical treatment and the other 'gifts' we've given you haven't left you with a slightly biased view."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I'm just saying that you may not realize it, but the nations of Earth probably aren't quite as nice as you've been lead to believe."
"Ms. Pierson, do you take me for an idiot?"
"Excuse me?" The words were so at odds with the calm tone they were spoken with that it left Diane at a loss for a moment. "I, well, of course not."
"Then why do you assume I know nothing of your world? I can read your language, and even if I could not I am surrounded by friends. Only a fool would be in my position and not learn as much as they could of their new allies, especially about how they treat others less advanced then they."
"I suppose that makes sense."
"Elizabeth was always happy to provide historical information to read, as were the sociologists, and while it is remotely possible that they could have forged it all I can see no reason why they would have put so much effort into doing so. The same is even truer for more recent events, such as your country's war in Afghanistan. So many here have spoken of it at some time that I would have to be deaf not to hear, and by no means has it all been good." Teyla spread her hands and smiled. "Besides, I trust those here around me. I know they are not trying to deceive me."
"Well, when you put way, it sounds so obvious. My apologies if I insulted you, Teyla."
"No offense was taken, Diane. To return to your point, I am well aware that your people and I mean all the peoples of Earth, have not always been as kind as those here and that there are some truly. I know of colonialism, of slavery, of genocide. I know that the less powerful are still exploited to this day. Despite all that, I feel confident in placing my trust in those in charge of Atlantis and Stargate Command, if not necessarily your entire planet."
"It's nice to hear that you're so optimistic. Many at home would probably say you're being too generous, though."
Teyla sighed and sat back. "Perhaps. I do worry at times that your governments will try to cut their losses and leave. That would be a disaster for this galaxy, as we would once more be left to face the Wraith alone."
"You only have to face the Wraith at all because we woke them up," Diane pointed out.
Teyla looked at her through narrowed eyes, becoming visibly annoyed for the first time. "I place no blame upon you for doing so. If John Sheppard had not woken them, they would have done so eventually, and even when the hives slept cullings occurred from time to time. Such is life in this galaxy. The difference is that thanks to him, and to Rodney and Elizabeth and all the others here, is that now we have a fighting chance."
"Still, the Wraith woke a century or more early, to devastating effect, and then there are the replicators to consider. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions are dead who wouldn't be if we hadn't meddled. Is 'a fighting chance' worth it?"
"If the Wraith can be defeated, then anything would be worth the cost. The alternative is another ten thousand years as herd animals." Teyla's expression smoothed out and she smiled once more. "Perhaps we can speak of other things now."
Diane knew when the quit, especially since the last thing she needed to do was start angering people this early in the game, and so she steered the conversation back into safer territory. For a while they talked about what it was like living in Atlantis and what it was like to travel through the galaxy, but eventually Teyla's son began to stir and Diane excused herself so that they could both get on with their days. Diane could have stayed there for hours, but there were other people in Atlantis who she was supposed to meet with before the dial-out at the end of the week. Besides, she had several months in Atlantis at the very least, and there would be plenty of time for more in-depth exploration of issues later on.
It took a lot more effort to track down her next interview, but eventually she found Ronon Dex in one of the gyms. By all appearances, he was leisurely smacking around another man, whom she recognized as Doctor McKay, with long, thick wood stick. McKay, for his part, was doing his best to avoid being smacked either by ducking away or flailing about with his own stick. Neither man noticed her as she walked in.
"Hi there. Specialist Dex?" she said, trying to get his attention with a wave of her hand. "I'm Diane Pierson. We have an interview scheduled."
"Oh, thank god," McKay. He straightened out of the hunched-over position he'd been in and glanced her way. "Please, take him and crap!"
Ronon had chosen that moment to lunge forward and strike out with his stick and McKay jumped back, swinging his own weapon and just barely blocking the attack.
"Damn it!" McKay shouted, then jumped back again as Ronon feinted toward him. "Did you or did you not hear her?"
"Don't reason we can't talk here," Ronon said, his voice a deep rumble.
"Well... okay." Diane said after a second. She'd heard enough stories about Ronon to know that she should probably take any offer to talk at all, and while the setting was a bit unusual it wasn't quite the weirdest place she'd ever done an interview at. "So, is this what you do for fun around here?"
"Yep," Ronon grunted, and for a moment the air filled with the clattering of wood-on-wood, followed by a yelp.
"Only because he's insane," McKay groused, rubbing his arm gingerly. "You could do other things, you know."
"I do."
"Oh, like what?"
"Run. Throw Sheppard around. Beat up marines."
"Figures. Hah, you missed!"
Diane frowned slightly, then tried again. "So, I understand you've been here almost four years now." She waited a few seconds, then said, "And before that you were a runner, correct?" She waited again, but Ronon didn't so much as nod. "And on Sateda you were a soldier?"
"Yep."
Diane stifled a sigh. "So, was that going to be your career, or were you drafted, or did everyone have to spend time in the army?"
"Everyone did at least two years," Ronon said in the middle of yet another swing at McKay, who was just a little too slow and took a glancing hit to his shoulder.
"Okay. Sounds like a few places back on Earth," Diane said with a nod. "Were you going to do something else?"
"I was going to school. Did a couple years, too."
"Oh? For what?"
"Theatre major. It's why I'm a specialist."
"Wait, what?" McKay said, starting to drop his guard but catching himself. "You can't be serious."
Ronon grinned. "Nope."
"So did you really start school, or was that another joke?" Diane asked.
"You're the reporter, you tell me," Ronon said, before swiping at McKay with his foot. He caught the scientist's ankle and moments later McKay hit the ground with a loud thump.
Diane winced in sympathy. "You know, I'll just try and catch you later."
Ronon just grunted and nodded, and as Diane left to find something to do before her next appointment she heard McKay plaintively say, "I'm okay, not that anyone cares."
--- 8.3 ---
(May 20, 2010)
One would think that getting a shipload of new minions would make life easier, but on the contrary, it actually meant a great deal more work -- mostly for Zelenka, admittedly, but that was beside the point. There were nearly a hundred new idiots running around, and while supposedly they had all been briefed and given detailed informative packets, inevitably they began to promptly screw up in a thousand ways. Mostly they did so in ways that involved people who were not Rodney -- touching the wrong plant in botany, poking at strange Ancient devices with bright red warning labels, getting lost in the sublevels and needing a marine rescue -- but of course sooner or later someone managed to require his attention. Rodney still wasn't sure what Dr. Burroughs had done to so thoroughly break his shower that it'd taken Rodney, Zelenka, and three marines with a crowbar the better part of two hours to get him out of it. At least after a month most of the accidents had stopped, and Rodney had set to work trying to get the newbies doing something useful. It was a sad testament to the state of so-called 'higher education' that people with bachelor's and master's degrees were easier to train than those with Ph.D.s, because at least the former would admit they didn't know anything at all. The less said about department meetings, the better.
Rodney was currently on his way to a meeting of sorts, although thankfully this one probably wouldn't involve anyone pretending to have a brain. Then again, Woolsey had called it, and so who could tell what sort of ridiculous complaint the man had come up with now.
He was pleasantly surprised to arrive at the conference room and find that, in addition to Woolsey and John, Sam Carter was there as well. Rodney's face lit up as he said, "Sam! What are you doing here?"
Sam smiled at him. "Good morning, Rodney. I'm fine. How are you?"
"Right, right, sorry," Rodney said with a wave of his hand. "I'm good. Great, even."
"Carter's here to help us with out upcoming bureaucrat infestation," John said in a grumpy tone, making Rodney wondered who'd pissed in his cereal this morning.
"Well, that's not how I'd have put it, but yeah," Sam said, glancing at John like he was a child, which wasn't far from the truth most days. "There is going to be a delegation from Earth arriving in a couple of days, made of several of the IOA's current board and a few other dignitaries. They'll be here to take a tour, meet people, see how things are going for themselves. The usual VIP stuff."
"It should be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate how much excellent work we're doing here," Woolsey said. He didn't sound very confident, even less so than he usually did, and when Rodney glanced between Sam and John she was looking decidedly skeptical and John's mouth was pressed into a tight line.
"What? This is good news, right? Sure, it'll be a waste of time, but maybe this means they're going to pay a bit more attention to us and are ready to recognize our brilliance, and by that I mean mine. If we're lucky we could get some more funding." Now both John and Sam were frowning, and even Rodney's (most) (usually) (okay, rarely) optimistic personality couldn't keep up the good cheer in the face of their collective dourness. "Okay, what's wrong?"
"I wouldn't be too sure they're coming to actually investigate, so much as cover their asses before stabbing us in the back," John said.
Woolsey made an unhappy little grunt, like someone had just kicked his dog, and said, "And I'll tell you again, colonels, I think you're both overreacting."
"Overreacting to what?" Rodney asked.
"They're going to be giving us more funding, Rodney," John said. "If anything, they're going to take it away."
"There's been a growing consensus at the Pentagon and in the oversight committee that it would be best if Atlantis ceased all off-world activity, beyond what's necessary to maintain operations," Sam said. "They'll leave everyone here, because Atlantis itself is fairly popular with the public, but fighting the Wraith is rather less so."
"Tell him the rest," John growled, in that scary 'I'm going to kill everyone between here and the gate' growl he got when people started pointing guns at the team.
Sam hesitated, then reluctantly went on, "Okay. Right now, there's a couple of planetary defense projects at Area 51 that are in the works and need a lot of power, and so there's been a few suggestions that there's some resources here that would be better used back home."
"What do you mean resources? Unless there's a sudden shortage of cheap Dell laptops," Rodney said, at which point his brain caught up with his mouth, "Oh fuck you mean the ZPM, don't you?"
"It's mostly just a few rumors around Homeworld Security right now," Sam hastened to say. "Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything to actually happen, certainly not soon. I mean, can you imagine how long it would take the IOA to make this kind of decision, especially given that there'd be the question as to where the ZPM would end up? Still, the committee doesn't always share everything it's doing with Homeworld, so its possible they're keeping a lid on it."
"Or more like it means that no one wants to do anything like you suggest," Woolsey put in. "I'm sure that if there were any discussions about taking the ZPM by the IOA, I would have heard something by now."
John rolled his eyes. "Because they're still in the habit of telling you everything."
"I -- well." Woolsey seemed to deflate a little. "You may have a point there."
"In any case, General O'Neill wanted me here to make sure you're prepared for when they show up, and to lend a hand in promoting the expedition's importance," Sam told them. "We think that if we can make a good enough case and show how well things are going, they won't be able to do anything no matter how much they want to."
"To which end we will be having meeting of all the department heads and senior officers this afternoon," Woolsey said. "I'll leave it to the two of you to inform your subordinates and start brainstorming on ideas on how put our best face forward and prevent any... incidents. Also, given that what Colonel Carter has mentioned is still as yet completely unsubstantiated, I don't want you to tell anyone else about the possible problem. There is no need to alarm anyone."
"Right," John said with an obviously fake smile, and Rodney quickly nodded along while wondering how Woolsey had been in Atlantis for so long and still not recognize that the chances of something this big remaining secret was next to zero.
"Well, in that case, you're dismissed. Colonel Carter, I believe you and I have some planning of our own to do in the meantime."
Sam smiled half-heartedly and said to John and Rodney, "I'll see you two this afternoon."
Rodney politely waited until they'd left earshot to say, "We're fucked, aren't we?"
"You have no idea," John replied.
--- 8.4 ---
(May 21, 2010)
There was an unsettled atmosphere among those gathered in a small, out-of-the way meeting room in a disused building near the edge of the city. There were nine of them there, each one a cell leader in what passed for an organizational structure among the secessionists, and while they were drinking coffee, eating freshly bake cookies, and chatting freely, everyone knew that there could not be any good reason for them to have been summoned with next to no warning.
"Okay, guys, looks like everyone's here so how about we get seated," John said, and the others began taking seats around the triangular table, with Rodney at his left and Teyla at his right. Along one of the other sides sat Evan, Stackhouse, and Chuck, and on the third Zelenka, Keller, and Ronon. "So, um, I'm calling this executive meeting of... of... what are we calling ourselves now?"
John suspected that, if Kate Heightmeyer were still alive, she could write a paper on how schizophrenic their secret society was when it came to changing names.
"RAMEN, sir," Chuck supplied, after a glance at his tablet. "The Revolutionary Action Mafia for Expediting Nationhood."
"Right, RAMEN. Calling it to order." John looked down at his tablet, where he'd made out a rough agenda. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to think of a good way to say what he wanted, but after a few long moments people started to fidget and he just went for blunt: "You all know about the upcoming IOA visit. What you don't know is it's just a cover for taking our ZPM. We need to be ready to move before they do it."
As he'd expected, there was a brief moment of silence, then uproar as everyone but Ronon started to talk at once. Luckily, Rodney was the only one given to shouting over everyone else and he'd already heard this, and they all quieted down after a few seconds.
Teyla cleared her throat, and asked, "Are you certain?"
"Let's just say I've got a pretty unimpeachable source right at the top," John said. "There have been high-level talks among a majority of the IOA nations for taking it to improve planetary defenses. This inspection is just a formality; the decision's already been made."
Evan leaned forward, his face creased with worry. "How soon are we talking?"
"Obviously, it can't be sent by the gate, so we have a little time. The Apollo is scheduled to depart Earth by the end of next week, so that gives us just over a month at most. My guess is they won't inform us until it actually arrives, but I want us secure well before we have to deal with a ship in orbit."
"Fuck," Stackhouse muttered under his breath, while across from him Keller slumped down into her chair. Zelenka shook his head and said something under his breath.
John held up his hand. "Now, this isn't a withdraw we're talking about. We'd still have naquadah generators and the other power sources we've been working on. Still, it'd be a pretty big setback and I think we can't afford to let it happen."
"Setback?" Rodney spat. "It wouldn't just be a setback, it'd be a disaster. I mean, yes, we can run a lot of systems with just secondary power, and if we had to we could use capacitor discs from the ships, but we'd still loose a lot of critical functions. The shield's the biggest one, because we might be able to bring it up but it'd last all of two seconds under bombardment. No, if they take it, we'd be dead the instant a Wraith ship found us."
"Okay, hold on. I'm going to play devil's advocate for a second. Let's say they do take the ZPM," Keller said. "Isn't the ZPM factory Radek's repairing going to able to make us plenty of them? We can just announce we've made a breakthrough and plug in a new one. We can make do for a while, can't we?"
"We've only just tested the energy converters, we won't be ready to even start fabrication for another month," Radek replied with a shake of his head. "That assumed everything goes smoothly, which is unlikely. We could be unprotected for half a year or more."
"Then we'd have to come up with an excuse for finding it, which would be hard if they stop off-world missions," Evan added. "I wouldn't put it past them to just snatch that one, too, even just as a backup for their backup."
Keller sighed, and said, "I'm guessing announcing we've found the thing is out, too."
Radek spoke up again. "That would just cause worse problems. The facility is designed to be mobile. It would be relatively easy to adapt a spare hyperdrive assembly from a 304 for it and fly it off to the Milky Way."
"Which would leave us even more screwed then we already are," John finished. He looked at Keller and shrugged. "I don't think that's an option."
She nodded glumly. "It was just a thought."
"So, what I'm thinking for tonight is that we need to figure out exactly where we stand on all our plans and get the details of what we're going to do hammered out." John turned to Teyla. In addition to being John's second in command over the entire scheme, she was also the one in charge of many of the practical necessities on account of being one of the only people with experience actually running a self-sustaining community. "Were do we stand on supplies?"
"I believe we are well-prepared with regards to food. Between our hydroponics, aquaculture, and the... food cubes, we can be self-sufficient. It will not be varied fare, but it will be nutritious and we can get more through trade."
John nodded. Botany had finally started to reliably produce fresh fruit, and the local fish weren't too bad. The Ancient equivalent of processed food also wasn't all that bad, even if it was oddly-flavored, came in bright primary colors, and looked a lot like play-dough. It was also best not to ask where the 'bulk organic material' it was created from originated.
"Radek?"
"Engineering is much the same. We have adequate spares for the Earth-built equipment and could make more, and Asimov and the tug are more or less ready. However, most of our construction material is exhausted, so we'll need to find a new source to scavenge material from."
"Evan, we ready for that?"
Evan nodded. "There's a ruined Ancient outpost we've scoped out as a naquadah source, and for metals we can grab an asteroid. You just have to give the word."
"In the meantime, we've already started fabrication of the most time-consuming components with what resources we do have," Radek added.
"Okay, good. I want us ready to bolster our defenses as soon as we make our move." John rolled his stylus between his fingers. "Evan, Stacks, I'll leave it to you to make sure the duty schedules work out so our guys are in position when things go down. We'll need to make sure to secure the armories beforehand. And speaking of weapons, Rodney?"
"Hmm? Oh, right, you want your new gun," Rodney said. "Zelenka, did you bring it?"
"Yes, Rodney," Radek said with a roll of his eyes. He reached under his chair and picked up a case, which he deposited on the table. As he opened it up, he said, "We've been working on these for a while now. For obvious reasons, we wanted something that would blend in but still be useful. This was the result."
John's eyes grew wide as Radek withdrew his creation and handed it over. He felt like a giddy kid on Christmas morning as he turned the classic phaser pistol over in his hand and reverently examined every detail of it.
"You guys," he breathed, with a burst of geeky love threatening to overwhelm him, "are really, really awesome."
"Of course we are," Rodney said with a sniff, preening as the others all leaned forward for a better look. John had a sudden irrational urge to hide his new toy. "Your Friend the Computer drew up the physical design, but it still took me quite a bit of -" Zelenka snorted, and Rodney glared at him, "Okay, it took me and Zelenka a bit of work to figure out how to get all the components to fit, but we did it."
"We thought that it would be easier to hide and explain away if found with that shape," Zelenka said, "given how, ah, enthusiastic some members of the expedition are for science fiction. There are a few other models, but I assumed you are satisfied with that one?"
"Hell, yes, I am," John said. "It's fully functional, right?"
"Of course it is," Rodney snapped, looking offended. "Stun, kill, disintegrate, the whole works. It even has a genetic lock to keep unauthorized people from firing it."
"Mine's better," Ronon said from across the room, where he sat near the snack table. At time, John suspected the only reason he came to the meetings was for the food and for the entertainment of watching everyone else argue.
"It is not," John and Rodney said simultaneously. Rodney went on, "In any case, despite the very advanced features even your grunts should be able to figure out how to use them. Turn the dial, point, pull trigger, it's child's play."
"Cool. Radek, Stacks, you two get them distributed to whoever you think will need them the most."
"Not a problem."
"Yes, sir."
"And this brings us to my next point: hiding all our preparations," John said. "There are going to be a few things we can't conceal too easily, so we're going to need a distraction to keep everyone's eyes looking the right way. Chuck?"
"David and I have a couple of plans for getting all the civilians out of the way, and it should definitely make sure Woolsey is too busy dealing with other problems," Chuck said. "We just need a good reason to get things rolling, something to motivate everyone to go along."
"I think I've got an idea," Evan said. "I think it'll motivate people here, and throw everyone back on Earth for a loop as well."
"What's that?" John asked.
Evan grinned back at him. "Oh, nothing much, but I think you'll like it. I can't tell you now, though. It'd ruin the surprise."
"Oh, come on, at least give us a hint."
"Nope," Evan said cheekily.
"Evan," John said, with puppy dog eyes.
"John."
"Lorne," John bit out, trying to stern this time.
"Sheppard."
"Lieutenant Colonel," John growled, eyes narrow.
"Colonel."
"Will you two get on with it?" Rodney snapped.
"I am sure that Evan's plan, whatever it is, will be fine," Teyla said in a firm, commanding voice, "so perhaps it would be best to move on for now."
John tried to stare Evan down for a few seconds longer, but the man refused to do anything but sit there and look innocent, and so John eventually had to give up. "Fine. Right. Okay, so I think that covers the basics, so now we're going to move on to actually planning out exactly what we're going to do, and come up with some contingencies. Since we've got time to set things up, I'm thinking that a variant on Plan Sheridan would work better than a Reynolds...."
=====
End Note: See also: PACMAN
(Next Chapter)
Words: 8,023 this chapter (~63k total)
Previous parts / Summary: Master Post, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7
Chapter Note: In which new people arrive and settle in, and there are disturbing developments.
=== Chapter 8 -- Troubled Waters ===
--- 8.1 ---
(April 7, 2010)
Sam was on another planet.
Sam was on another planet, and in an alien city. It was by far the coolest thing he'd experienced, closely followed the trip aboard a spaceship he'd made to get there. The facts that it had taken three weeks, the bunk had been too small, and the food hadn't been too good were all completely irrelevant to the flight's sheer awesomeness. Besides, there had been a number of interesting lectures to take up all the free time, although neither Sam nor any of the other new people aboard had been able to tell for sure when the handful of veterans aboard were telling the truth and when they were pulling people's legs. He was fairly certain that there wasn't any such thing as man-eating pine trees, for example.
In any case, they'd finally arrived. Unfortunately Daedalus hadn't landed so they hadn't been able to see the city from the air, but with any luck he'd be able to get up in one of the 'puddle jumpers' soon and take a look. Instead Sam and the other hundred-some passengers had been beamed directly down into a large, empty hall somewhere in the city. Sam couldn't help but stare at his surroundings in awe. Everything seemed to be made out of some sort of metallic material that he didn't recognize, colored with a subtle fractal-like pattern made of dozens different shades of red, tan, and bronze with a bit of green thrown in here and there. Most stunning of all was a floor to ceiling stained glass window through which he could see choppy waves. The entire hall had a strange alien feel to it, and it took Sam a minute to realize it wasn't just his mind playing games with him but rather that there wasn't a single right angle to be seen in the room, nor any symmetry.
"Hey, new guys, over this way," someone called, jerking him back to reality. Sam turned to see a sandy-haired man with a green-paneled jacket waving off to end of the room. "Civilians to my left, military to my right. No, my other right. David! Dr. Brown needs to talk to you about the aquatic garden on the northwest pier immediately; there's been another amorous fire-squid incident."
One of the veterans who had been on the Daedalus, a botanist if Sam remember correctly, shook his head and sighed. "Love you too, Chuck."
Sam started to head over to the Canadian when he was nearly bowled over by something not unlike a short bear. It took him a moment to realize it wasn't trying to eat him, but rather hug him, and that it wasn't an alien bear, but his older brother Dean. It certainly an improvement, because it would have really sucked to be attacked by wildlife within minutes of arriving. Not that he'd admit it, of course.
"Sam! It's about time got here," Dean was saying while doing his best to squeeze the life from Sam. He half-heartedly tried to hug Dean back, which proved difficult as his arms were effectively pinned to his sides.
"Hey," he managed to gasp out. "Can't breathe."
"Pansy," Dean said with a gruff, affectionate tone as he took a step back. "How have you been?"
"Good." Sam tipped his head to the side slightly, because he couldn't quite understand what he was seeing. "You're... cheery. You're never cheery. What are you up to?"
"Can't I just be glad to see my little brother?"
"Younger," Sam corrected, "And no." The answer wasn't exactly true, of course, because Dean was always happy to see him, just like Sam was always happy to see him in one piece. He knew Dean adored him - he had joined the Corps specifically to put both of them through college, after all - but smiling like a maniac just wasn't something the guy did even when he came home on leave. Sure, he grinned and laughed when having fun, smirked triumphantly, maybe even smiled softly when he thought no one was looking - but cheer? That didn't show up unless he was hammered or thought it would get him into someone's pants.
"You're just being stubborn now." Dean turned and raised his voice. "Chuck! It all right if I take him? I promise he'll be back in time for the welcome dinner."
"Just make sure he doesn't touch anything, sir," Chuck replied. "He's in C-92-113, down the hall from you like you asked."
"Thanks!" Dean started to drag Sam out of the jumper bay and into a hallway. "Come on, you'll love this. If we drop your bag off quick, we can make it out to the east pier in time."
"Time for what?" Sam said, stumbling along. "And how's pulling me into a closet going to help?"
"Watch." Dean tapped a little map at the back wall, once on a spot near the center and then on two numbers at the side, and the doors slid shut. When they opened again, they weren't where they had been. Dean gave him a little shove and Sam found himself face to face with another ceiling-to-floor window, this one clear and looking out over spires of glass and metal and an endless ocean beyond. He had a sudden moment of vertigo as he realized he was about a hundred stories up and there was nothing between him and a very, very long drop to the hard deck below but a thin pane of glass, but that feeling quickly passed and was replaced once more by the word awesome.
"Oh, wow," Sam said, looking down. The late afternoon sun seemed to turn the entire city into a giant jewel made of ruby and amber as light reflected off countless windows. "Nice view."
"Yeah, yeah. Enough gawking, we're on a schedule." Dean walked off and Sam reluctantly followed him. Maybe half a minute later they stopped in front of a door and Dean waved his hand of a trio of glowing rectangles to the side, causing it to slide open. Sam stepped inside and looked around. Much like the arrival hall, this room was an oddly-shaped polyhedron. There were windows along one wall, a door leading into what Sam assumed was the bathroom, and over in one corner was a decently large bed. There were also a few chairs and other furniture haphazardly strewn about the room. In all, it was probably a little bigger than the studio apartment he'd been living in back on Earth.
"This the best you got?" Sam asked as he finished looking around.
"Quit your bitching," Dean replied. "Everyone's got something like this, even the command staff. I'm just down the hall myself."
"What, you're not off with all the other marines?"
"Everyone's mixed together. It's safer that way, no single target to hit and wipe out the command structure. That's the only reason the living quarters aren't all in one building, for that matter."
"Right..." Sam replied after a second, frowning at the reply. The fact that his brother had delivered it so matter-of-factly, as if it was normal to think in terms of targets when talking about living arrangements, was a bit disturbing. It also brought up another question. "So, uh. I thought you were planning on getting out of the service in a few months."
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I was, but then they assigned me here for a trial tour because of the gene, and that was that. I mean, this place is great, really just... great. Fantastic, even...." Dean drifted off for a moment, then he shook his head and continued. "Once I knew for sure you were coming, I figured there wasn't anything left back on Earth anyways so why not save the hassle and re-up?" Dean's broad grin suddenly was replaced by a frown. "There isn't anything on Earth, is there? Tell me there isn't a girl or something."
"No, no. Well. Not anymore." The less said about Sam's love life as of late, the better.
The grin came back instantly. "Good. Actually, there's actually this chick in biochemistry I think you'd like."
Sam sighed and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Don't even start this again."
"Okay, if not biochem girl, I bet we could get a double date with the Sanchez twins."
"I'm perfectly capable of finding my own dates, Dean."
Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Sure you are."
Sam was saved from further torment when a woman's voice came out of nowhere. "Dean? You asked me to remind you of the test flight. They're starting preflight now, you should get moving if you want to get there in time."
"Oh, thanks, Mike. Come on, you dork, you don't want to miss this."
Dean lead the way back out the hall and back to the closet-transporter-thing, and once they were inside he once again tapped a place on what had to be a map of the city out near the eastern edge. There was a momentary flash and they emerged from the building out onto a wide open field nearly at ocean level. A glance to one direction revealed a disorganized mess of towers that grew taller and taller and drew his eyes the central spire reaching up into the wispy clouds. In the other direction was a low building of some kind with a wide-open door, maybe a hangar. There was a crowd around them and after a moment a lanky, wild-haired man emerged and came their way. He had a pistol strapped to his thigh -- and suddenly Sam realized that so did Dean, and so did well over half the people around them -- and even stranger a red sling over his chest that held a tiny form.
"Afternoon, Captain Winchester," the man said, and Dean's spine was suddenly ramrod-straight.
"Sir, I'd like to introduce my brother Sam," he said. "Sam, this is Colonel Sheppard, my CO."
"Nice to meet you, Sam," Sheppard said. He offered Sam his hand and he took it after a moment's shock. "I've heard good things about you."
"Ah, it's an honor, sir," Sam stuttered, barely able to get the words out because he had just come face to face with someone who was literally world-famous and fought space vampires for a living. It was at that moment that it clicked that it meant Dean fought space vampires for a living, too. Wasn't that just typical.
"Your brother's a good man, I'm glad we've got him here." Sam wondered if he had fallen into a Twilight Zone episode. He was in an alien city, he had just met John Fucking Sheppard, and his brother was grinning like a loon. It just wasn't natural. Dean hadn't really, truly smiled much even before he'd become a Big Tough Marine, and now he was acting like a puppy getting his tummy rubbed.
Sheppard chuckled and turned away to point at the hangar. "They should be coming out any minute now. Hey, you're a space guy, right?"
Sam swallowed. "Yes, sir." It was an understatement, because up until he'd suddenly gotten a letter from his brother and another from Dr. Radek Zelenka, he had been working for Scaled Composites. It would have been the job of a lifetime, adapting newly declassified technology to one of the few existing purely civilian spacecraft, except then he was being asked to leave for another galaxy. It hadn't been a hard choice. Sam wasn't about to say any of that to John Sheppard, though, because... he was John Sheppard. John Sheppard, who knew what Sam did for a living.
Sheppard listened to something on his radio and grinned. "You'll like this."
The air filled with a low humming noise, then a metal brick started to slowly float out of the hangar door. It wasn't huge, maybe as large as an old 727 but certainly not close to an A-380, but the fact that it was in the air at all was remarkable. It looked more like a brick with a pair of stubby engine nacelles slapped on than a spacecraft, with no thought given to aerodynamics beyond slanted nose. At several points around the hull there were large gaps in the hull, inside which cables and other equipment that Sam couldn't recognize were visible. The ship certainly didn't have any of the grace curves of one of the Spaceships or White Knights, nor was it anywhere near the size of a battle cruiser, but it still had a certain practical elegance to that nearly made his head freeze up as he watched it putter around.
The ship slowly did a pass by the cheering crowd and reached the edge of the pier, where it turned in a jerky, uneven circle to head back the way it had come. It was barely floating a few dozen feet above the field, but height didn't really matter because if you could resist gravity at twenty feet you could resist it more easily at twenty thousand. Given that the thing had to weigh around five, maybe even ten thousand tons, it was pretty damned impressive.
Right around the time he thought that, the hum turned into more of a warble and the ship started to sink, bobbed up a few feet before heading downward once more, before finally plummeting like a brick the last few to land with a loud clang. The cheering stopped and everyone looked around at each other, until at some radio signal Sam couldn't hear they all started to laugh.
"Asimov's still got a few kinks that need fixed," Sheppard said, shaking his head and chuckling. "I bet Rodney will have you working on it pretty soon, or maybe on the cruiser design."
Sam nearly fell over when he realized that he'd be working with Rodney McKay. He didn't know whether to be thrilled or frightened.
The rest of the night after that was something of a blur. Dean dragged Sam around the city on a grand tour, taking them up and down so many stairs that by the end it felt like his legs were going to drop off. Along the way he pointed out various features ranging from the mundane ("toilet paper dispenser -- makes it right there, weird, huh?") to vitally important ("Closet like this in every occupied area, with gas masks and first aid kits.") to the just plain weird ("It's either abstract art or a three-d representation of a five-d object, but either way it's ugly as fuck."). Eventually they ended up at a welcoming party out on the west pier, where they ate, drank, and danced until the early hours of the morning, with Sam being forced to admit that Dean might be on to something regarding the Sanchez twins.
Finally, at around two in the morning, they finally got back to Sam's quarters, with Dean stumbling off after a final promise and/or threat to get Sam up early so they could get down to the range for weapons qualifications. Sam made use of the Ancient restroom, which wasn't much different from a normal one except he could control it with his brain, and then stripped down to this boxers and fell into bed. He wasn't expecting to get much sleep that night, because he hated sleeping in an unfamiliar room and an unfamiliar bed. With any luck he'd adjust quickly, but he knew he was probably in for a few restless nights first.
Sure enough, he ended up tossing and turning constantly, unable to find a comfortable position, and every time it seemed like he was finally starting to fall asleep he'd be jolted awake by a strange noise. Things continued that way for at least an hour, until something changed without warning. It was like someone had flipped a switch to let all the tension out of his body, and as he finally began to slip away he could hear someone singing a lullaby. The soft and soothing voice was dimly familiar, like he could almost connect it with some nearly-forgotten memory.
"Mom?" he mumbled, half-asleep and confused.
"Hush, love," the voice said. "You need to get some rest. You're not going to get a lot of chances for a while, not around here."
"'Kay," he said, and he drifted off.
--- 8.2 ---
(April 8, 2010)
The morning after the Daedalus arrived, Diane Pierson walked through the steel and glass corridors of Atlantis on her way to her first appointment of the day. After three weeks stuck aboard the starship, it was good to walk freely around and have something to look at other than drab grey walls. She was still inside, true enough, but these metal halls were far easier on the eye, and the knowledge that just outside was a warm breeze and a sunny sky made them a thousand times less oppressive. Having someone new to talk to was also a thrill, as she'd run through almost everyone on the ship barely halfway through the voyage even though she'd done her best to pace herself. Still, she would have been willing to spend three months aboard the ship for an opportunity like this.
Diane came to what she hoped was the correct room and pressed the glowing crystal she'd been told was the door bell. A minute later, the door slid open and revealed a tall, dark-skinned woman with long hair who was wearing a sleeveless shirt. She held herself with a light, graceful poise that reminded Diane of a professional dancer.
"Ms. Emmagen?" Diane said. "I'm Diane Pierson, I have an appointment to speak with you, I believe."
"Ah, yes, the 'in-bed' reporter. Mr. Woolsey told me you would be here this morning. Come in and make yourself comfortable, and please, call me Teyla." Teyla stepped back and waved her in toward a pair of low chairs. Nearby was a crib, made of wood and obviously hand-crafted, in which a young toddler was soundly asleep. The room was decorated with a number of candles and fine drapes, and on the wall hung several paintings, including what had to be a portrait of Teyla's team.
"Thank you, Teyla, and by all means call me Diane."
"I hope you had a pleasant journey," Teyla said as they settled into the chairs.
"It was dull, but that hardly matters now that I'm here. It's a real privileged to be here, and I want to thank you for taking the time to talk with me."
"It is no trouble at all."
Diane powered up the tablet she'd been issued and opened up the note taking program, then pulled out a microphone and plugged it in. "I hope you don't mind if I record this."
"Not at all."
"Thank you." Diane started up the recording and began the interview with a few simple warm-up questions, such as how she had come to join the expedition and what her position currently was. Diane knew all that, of course, but she felt that with an interview like this it was important to lay the groundwork first. Then she moved on to the first item on her agenda.
"Now, as I understand, you've currently got the distinction of the being the only mother living in Atlantis, or at least the only one who's raising a child here at the moment."
Teyla looked over at her son with the heartfelt smile of a mother. "Yes, that is correct. His name is Torren John, after my father and Colonel Sheppard."
"It must be difficult to raise a child by yourself, especially when you're still taking such an active role in the city's operations and going off-world."
Teyla laughed softly and shook her head. "No, not at all. I am hardly alone, either. His father is away at the moment, true, but his uncles -- that is, my team mates -- are all here for us, and everyone in the city from Mr. Woolsey down have been most supportive. There have been a few sleepless nights, true, but they have been worth it."
"Still, don't you worry about the fact that he's living in a place like this?"
Teyla looked puzzled and shook her head. "He will grow up in the city of the Ancestors and surrounded by family. How could I not be happy about that?"
"Surely you must be concerned about the danger to him?"
"Diane, he is in far less danger here than elsewhere. Atlantis may be more of a target that most worlds, yes, but here there are shields to keep out attackers. There may be dangerous technology, but it is certainly no more dangerous than a camp or village. The fact that he has even made it to his present age is a testament to the gifts your people have given mine."
"How so?"
"Medicine, among other things. Since your doctors began caring for us, only two children have died of disease. Many others, both young and old, have survived wounds and illnesses they would not have otherwise. Sometimes I think many from your developed nations forget what great a blessing your doctors are."
Diane nodded "That's certainly true, but I have to wonder if medical treatment and the other 'gifts' we've given you haven't left you with a slightly biased view."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, I'm just saying that you may not realize it, but the nations of Earth probably aren't quite as nice as you've been lead to believe."
"Ms. Pierson, do you take me for an idiot?"
"Excuse me?" The words were so at odds with the calm tone they were spoken with that it left Diane at a loss for a moment. "I, well, of course not."
"Then why do you assume I know nothing of your world? I can read your language, and even if I could not I am surrounded by friends. Only a fool would be in my position and not learn as much as they could of their new allies, especially about how they treat others less advanced then they."
"I suppose that makes sense."
"Elizabeth was always happy to provide historical information to read, as were the sociologists, and while it is remotely possible that they could have forged it all I can see no reason why they would have put so much effort into doing so. The same is even truer for more recent events, such as your country's war in Afghanistan. So many here have spoken of it at some time that I would have to be deaf not to hear, and by no means has it all been good." Teyla spread her hands and smiled. "Besides, I trust those here around me. I know they are not trying to deceive me."
"Well, when you put way, it sounds so obvious. My apologies if I insulted you, Teyla."
"No offense was taken, Diane. To return to your point, I am well aware that your people and I mean all the peoples of Earth, have not always been as kind as those here and that there are some truly. I know of colonialism, of slavery, of genocide. I know that the less powerful are still exploited to this day. Despite all that, I feel confident in placing my trust in those in charge of Atlantis and Stargate Command, if not necessarily your entire planet."
"It's nice to hear that you're so optimistic. Many at home would probably say you're being too generous, though."
Teyla sighed and sat back. "Perhaps. I do worry at times that your governments will try to cut their losses and leave. That would be a disaster for this galaxy, as we would once more be left to face the Wraith alone."
"You only have to face the Wraith at all because we woke them up," Diane pointed out.
Teyla looked at her through narrowed eyes, becoming visibly annoyed for the first time. "I place no blame upon you for doing so. If John Sheppard had not woken them, they would have done so eventually, and even when the hives slept cullings occurred from time to time. Such is life in this galaxy. The difference is that thanks to him, and to Rodney and Elizabeth and all the others here, is that now we have a fighting chance."
"Still, the Wraith woke a century or more early, to devastating effect, and then there are the replicators to consider. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions are dead who wouldn't be if we hadn't meddled. Is 'a fighting chance' worth it?"
"If the Wraith can be defeated, then anything would be worth the cost. The alternative is another ten thousand years as herd animals." Teyla's expression smoothed out and she smiled once more. "Perhaps we can speak of other things now."
Diane knew when the quit, especially since the last thing she needed to do was start angering people this early in the game, and so she steered the conversation back into safer territory. For a while they talked about what it was like living in Atlantis and what it was like to travel through the galaxy, but eventually Teyla's son began to stir and Diane excused herself so that they could both get on with their days. Diane could have stayed there for hours, but there were other people in Atlantis who she was supposed to meet with before the dial-out at the end of the week. Besides, she had several months in Atlantis at the very least, and there would be plenty of time for more in-depth exploration of issues later on.
It took a lot more effort to track down her next interview, but eventually she found Ronon Dex in one of the gyms. By all appearances, he was leisurely smacking around another man, whom she recognized as Doctor McKay, with long, thick wood stick. McKay, for his part, was doing his best to avoid being smacked either by ducking away or flailing about with his own stick. Neither man noticed her as she walked in.
"Hi there. Specialist Dex?" she said, trying to get his attention with a wave of her hand. "I'm Diane Pierson. We have an interview scheduled."
"Oh, thank god," McKay. He straightened out of the hunched-over position he'd been in and glanced her way. "Please, take him and crap!"
Ronon had chosen that moment to lunge forward and strike out with his stick and McKay jumped back, swinging his own weapon and just barely blocking the attack.
"Damn it!" McKay shouted, then jumped back again as Ronon feinted toward him. "Did you or did you not hear her?"
"Don't reason we can't talk here," Ronon said, his voice a deep rumble.
"Well... okay." Diane said after a second. She'd heard enough stories about Ronon to know that she should probably take any offer to talk at all, and while the setting was a bit unusual it wasn't quite the weirdest place she'd ever done an interview at. "So, is this what you do for fun around here?"
"Yep," Ronon grunted, and for a moment the air filled with the clattering of wood-on-wood, followed by a yelp.
"Only because he's insane," McKay groused, rubbing his arm gingerly. "You could do other things, you know."
"I do."
"Oh, like what?"
"Run. Throw Sheppard around. Beat up marines."
"Figures. Hah, you missed!"
Diane frowned slightly, then tried again. "So, I understand you've been here almost four years now." She waited a few seconds, then said, "And before that you were a runner, correct?" She waited again, but Ronon didn't so much as nod. "And on Sateda you were a soldier?"
"Yep."
Diane stifled a sigh. "So, was that going to be your career, or were you drafted, or did everyone have to spend time in the army?"
"Everyone did at least two years," Ronon said in the middle of yet another swing at McKay, who was just a little too slow and took a glancing hit to his shoulder.
"Okay. Sounds like a few places back on Earth," Diane said with a nod. "Were you going to do something else?"
"I was going to school. Did a couple years, too."
"Oh? For what?"
"Theatre major. It's why I'm a specialist."
"Wait, what?" McKay said, starting to drop his guard but catching himself. "You can't be serious."
Ronon grinned. "Nope."
"So did you really start school, or was that another joke?" Diane asked.
"You're the reporter, you tell me," Ronon said, before swiping at McKay with his foot. He caught the scientist's ankle and moments later McKay hit the ground with a loud thump.
Diane winced in sympathy. "You know, I'll just try and catch you later."
Ronon just grunted and nodded, and as Diane left to find something to do before her next appointment she heard McKay plaintively say, "I'm okay, not that anyone cares."
--- 8.3 ---
(May 20, 2010)
One would think that getting a shipload of new minions would make life easier, but on the contrary, it actually meant a great deal more work -- mostly for Zelenka, admittedly, but that was beside the point. There were nearly a hundred new idiots running around, and while supposedly they had all been briefed and given detailed informative packets, inevitably they began to promptly screw up in a thousand ways. Mostly they did so in ways that involved people who were not Rodney -- touching the wrong plant in botany, poking at strange Ancient devices with bright red warning labels, getting lost in the sublevels and needing a marine rescue -- but of course sooner or later someone managed to require his attention. Rodney still wasn't sure what Dr. Burroughs had done to so thoroughly break his shower that it'd taken Rodney, Zelenka, and three marines with a crowbar the better part of two hours to get him out of it. At least after a month most of the accidents had stopped, and Rodney had set to work trying to get the newbies doing something useful. It was a sad testament to the state of so-called 'higher education' that people with bachelor's and master's degrees were easier to train than those with Ph.D.s, because at least the former would admit they didn't know anything at all. The less said about department meetings, the better.
Rodney was currently on his way to a meeting of sorts, although thankfully this one probably wouldn't involve anyone pretending to have a brain. Then again, Woolsey had called it, and so who could tell what sort of ridiculous complaint the man had come up with now.
He was pleasantly surprised to arrive at the conference room and find that, in addition to Woolsey and John, Sam Carter was there as well. Rodney's face lit up as he said, "Sam! What are you doing here?"
Sam smiled at him. "Good morning, Rodney. I'm fine. How are you?"
"Right, right, sorry," Rodney said with a wave of his hand. "I'm good. Great, even."
"Carter's here to help us with out upcoming bureaucrat infestation," John said in a grumpy tone, making Rodney wondered who'd pissed in his cereal this morning.
"Well, that's not how I'd have put it, but yeah," Sam said, glancing at John like he was a child, which wasn't far from the truth most days. "There is going to be a delegation from Earth arriving in a couple of days, made of several of the IOA's current board and a few other dignitaries. They'll be here to take a tour, meet people, see how things are going for themselves. The usual VIP stuff."
"It should be an excellent opportunity to demonstrate how much excellent work we're doing here," Woolsey said. He didn't sound very confident, even less so than he usually did, and when Rodney glanced between Sam and John she was looking decidedly skeptical and John's mouth was pressed into a tight line.
"What? This is good news, right? Sure, it'll be a waste of time, but maybe this means they're going to pay a bit more attention to us and are ready to recognize our brilliance, and by that I mean mine. If we're lucky we could get some more funding." Now both John and Sam were frowning, and even Rodney's (most) (usually) (okay, rarely) optimistic personality couldn't keep up the good cheer in the face of their collective dourness. "Okay, what's wrong?"
"I wouldn't be too sure they're coming to actually investigate, so much as cover their asses before stabbing us in the back," John said.
Woolsey made an unhappy little grunt, like someone had just kicked his dog, and said, "And I'll tell you again, colonels, I think you're both overreacting."
"Overreacting to what?" Rodney asked.
"They're going to be giving us more funding, Rodney," John said. "If anything, they're going to take it away."
"There's been a growing consensus at the Pentagon and in the oversight committee that it would be best if Atlantis ceased all off-world activity, beyond what's necessary to maintain operations," Sam said. "They'll leave everyone here, because Atlantis itself is fairly popular with the public, but fighting the Wraith is rather less so."
"Tell him the rest," John growled, in that scary 'I'm going to kill everyone between here and the gate' growl he got when people started pointing guns at the team.
Sam hesitated, then reluctantly went on, "Okay. Right now, there's a couple of planetary defense projects at Area 51 that are in the works and need a lot of power, and so there's been a few suggestions that there's some resources here that would be better used back home."
"What do you mean resources? Unless there's a sudden shortage of cheap Dell laptops," Rodney said, at which point his brain caught up with his mouth, "Oh fuck you mean the ZPM, don't you?"
"It's mostly just a few rumors around Homeworld Security right now," Sam hastened to say. "Honestly, I wouldn't expect anything to actually happen, certainly not soon. I mean, can you imagine how long it would take the IOA to make this kind of decision, especially given that there'd be the question as to where the ZPM would end up? Still, the committee doesn't always share everything it's doing with Homeworld, so its possible they're keeping a lid on it."
"Or more like it means that no one wants to do anything like you suggest," Woolsey put in. "I'm sure that if there were any discussions about taking the ZPM by the IOA, I would have heard something by now."
John rolled his eyes. "Because they're still in the habit of telling you everything."
"I -- well." Woolsey seemed to deflate a little. "You may have a point there."
"In any case, General O'Neill wanted me here to make sure you're prepared for when they show up, and to lend a hand in promoting the expedition's importance," Sam told them. "We think that if we can make a good enough case and show how well things are going, they won't be able to do anything no matter how much they want to."
"To which end we will be having meeting of all the department heads and senior officers this afternoon," Woolsey said. "I'll leave it to the two of you to inform your subordinates and start brainstorming on ideas on how put our best face forward and prevent any... incidents. Also, given that what Colonel Carter has mentioned is still as yet completely unsubstantiated, I don't want you to tell anyone else about the possible problem. There is no need to alarm anyone."
"Right," John said with an obviously fake smile, and Rodney quickly nodded along while wondering how Woolsey had been in Atlantis for so long and still not recognize that the chances of something this big remaining secret was next to zero.
"Well, in that case, you're dismissed. Colonel Carter, I believe you and I have some planning of our own to do in the meantime."
Sam smiled half-heartedly and said to John and Rodney, "I'll see you two this afternoon."
Rodney politely waited until they'd left earshot to say, "We're fucked, aren't we?"
"You have no idea," John replied.
--- 8.4 ---
(May 21, 2010)
There was an unsettled atmosphere among those gathered in a small, out-of-the way meeting room in a disused building near the edge of the city. There were nine of them there, each one a cell leader in what passed for an organizational structure among the secessionists, and while they were drinking coffee, eating freshly bake cookies, and chatting freely, everyone knew that there could not be any good reason for them to have been summoned with next to no warning.
"Okay, guys, looks like everyone's here so how about we get seated," John said, and the others began taking seats around the triangular table, with Rodney at his left and Teyla at his right. Along one of the other sides sat Evan, Stackhouse, and Chuck, and on the third Zelenka, Keller, and Ronon. "So, um, I'm calling this executive meeting of... of... what are we calling ourselves now?"
John suspected that, if Kate Heightmeyer were still alive, she could write a paper on how schizophrenic their secret society was when it came to changing names.
"RAMEN, sir," Chuck supplied, after a glance at his tablet. "The Revolutionary Action Mafia for Expediting Nationhood."
"Right, RAMEN. Calling it to order." John looked down at his tablet, where he'd made out a rough agenda. He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly as he tried to think of a good way to say what he wanted, but after a few long moments people started to fidget and he just went for blunt: "You all know about the upcoming IOA visit. What you don't know is it's just a cover for taking our ZPM. We need to be ready to move before they do it."
As he'd expected, there was a brief moment of silence, then uproar as everyone but Ronon started to talk at once. Luckily, Rodney was the only one given to shouting over everyone else and he'd already heard this, and they all quieted down after a few seconds.
Teyla cleared her throat, and asked, "Are you certain?"
"Let's just say I've got a pretty unimpeachable source right at the top," John said. "There have been high-level talks among a majority of the IOA nations for taking it to improve planetary defenses. This inspection is just a formality; the decision's already been made."
Evan leaned forward, his face creased with worry. "How soon are we talking?"
"Obviously, it can't be sent by the gate, so we have a little time. The Apollo is scheduled to depart Earth by the end of next week, so that gives us just over a month at most. My guess is they won't inform us until it actually arrives, but I want us secure well before we have to deal with a ship in orbit."
"Fuck," Stackhouse muttered under his breath, while across from him Keller slumped down into her chair. Zelenka shook his head and said something under his breath.
John held up his hand. "Now, this isn't a withdraw we're talking about. We'd still have naquadah generators and the other power sources we've been working on. Still, it'd be a pretty big setback and I think we can't afford to let it happen."
"Setback?" Rodney spat. "It wouldn't just be a setback, it'd be a disaster. I mean, yes, we can run a lot of systems with just secondary power, and if we had to we could use capacitor discs from the ships, but we'd still loose a lot of critical functions. The shield's the biggest one, because we might be able to bring it up but it'd last all of two seconds under bombardment. No, if they take it, we'd be dead the instant a Wraith ship found us."
"Okay, hold on. I'm going to play devil's advocate for a second. Let's say they do take the ZPM," Keller said. "Isn't the ZPM factory Radek's repairing going to able to make us plenty of them? We can just announce we've made a breakthrough and plug in a new one. We can make do for a while, can't we?"
"We've only just tested the energy converters, we won't be ready to even start fabrication for another month," Radek replied with a shake of his head. "That assumed everything goes smoothly, which is unlikely. We could be unprotected for half a year or more."
"Then we'd have to come up with an excuse for finding it, which would be hard if they stop off-world missions," Evan added. "I wouldn't put it past them to just snatch that one, too, even just as a backup for their backup."
Keller sighed, and said, "I'm guessing announcing we've found the thing is out, too."
Radek spoke up again. "That would just cause worse problems. The facility is designed to be mobile. It would be relatively easy to adapt a spare hyperdrive assembly from a 304 for it and fly it off to the Milky Way."
"Which would leave us even more screwed then we already are," John finished. He looked at Keller and shrugged. "I don't think that's an option."
She nodded glumly. "It was just a thought."
"So, what I'm thinking for tonight is that we need to figure out exactly where we stand on all our plans and get the details of what we're going to do hammered out." John turned to Teyla. In addition to being John's second in command over the entire scheme, she was also the one in charge of many of the practical necessities on account of being one of the only people with experience actually running a self-sustaining community. "Were do we stand on supplies?"
"I believe we are well-prepared with regards to food. Between our hydroponics, aquaculture, and the... food cubes, we can be self-sufficient. It will not be varied fare, but it will be nutritious and we can get more through trade."
John nodded. Botany had finally started to reliably produce fresh fruit, and the local fish weren't too bad. The Ancient equivalent of processed food also wasn't all that bad, even if it was oddly-flavored, came in bright primary colors, and looked a lot like play-dough. It was also best not to ask where the 'bulk organic material' it was created from originated.
"Radek?"
"Engineering is much the same. We have adequate spares for the Earth-built equipment and could make more, and Asimov and the tug are more or less ready. However, most of our construction material is exhausted, so we'll need to find a new source to scavenge material from."
"Evan, we ready for that?"
Evan nodded. "There's a ruined Ancient outpost we've scoped out as a naquadah source, and for metals we can grab an asteroid. You just have to give the word."
"In the meantime, we've already started fabrication of the most time-consuming components with what resources we do have," Radek added.
"Okay, good. I want us ready to bolster our defenses as soon as we make our move." John rolled his stylus between his fingers. "Evan, Stacks, I'll leave it to you to make sure the duty schedules work out so our guys are in position when things go down. We'll need to make sure to secure the armories beforehand. And speaking of weapons, Rodney?"
"Hmm? Oh, right, you want your new gun," Rodney said. "Zelenka, did you bring it?"
"Yes, Rodney," Radek said with a roll of his eyes. He reached under his chair and picked up a case, which he deposited on the table. As he opened it up, he said, "We've been working on these for a while now. For obvious reasons, we wanted something that would blend in but still be useful. This was the result."
John's eyes grew wide as Radek withdrew his creation and handed it over. He felt like a giddy kid on Christmas morning as he turned the classic phaser pistol over in his hand and reverently examined every detail of it.
"You guys," he breathed, with a burst of geeky love threatening to overwhelm him, "are really, really awesome."
"Of course we are," Rodney said with a sniff, preening as the others all leaned forward for a better look. John had a sudden irrational urge to hide his new toy. "Your Friend the Computer drew up the physical design, but it still took me quite a bit of -" Zelenka snorted, and Rodney glared at him, "Okay, it took me and Zelenka a bit of work to figure out how to get all the components to fit, but we did it."
"We thought that it would be easier to hide and explain away if found with that shape," Zelenka said, "given how, ah, enthusiastic some members of the expedition are for science fiction. There are a few other models, but I assumed you are satisfied with that one?"
"Hell, yes, I am," John said. "It's fully functional, right?"
"Of course it is," Rodney snapped, looking offended. "Stun, kill, disintegrate, the whole works. It even has a genetic lock to keep unauthorized people from firing it."
"Mine's better," Ronon said from across the room, where he sat near the snack table. At time, John suspected the only reason he came to the meetings was for the food and for the entertainment of watching everyone else argue.
"It is not," John and Rodney said simultaneously. Rodney went on, "In any case, despite the very advanced features even your grunts should be able to figure out how to use them. Turn the dial, point, pull trigger, it's child's play."
"Cool. Radek, Stacks, you two get them distributed to whoever you think will need them the most."
"Not a problem."
"Yes, sir."
"And this brings us to my next point: hiding all our preparations," John said. "There are going to be a few things we can't conceal too easily, so we're going to need a distraction to keep everyone's eyes looking the right way. Chuck?"
"David and I have a couple of plans for getting all the civilians out of the way, and it should definitely make sure Woolsey is too busy dealing with other problems," Chuck said. "We just need a good reason to get things rolling, something to motivate everyone to go along."
"I think I've got an idea," Evan said. "I think it'll motivate people here, and throw everyone back on Earth for a loop as well."
"What's that?" John asked.
Evan grinned back at him. "Oh, nothing much, but I think you'll like it. I can't tell you now, though. It'd ruin the surprise."
"Oh, come on, at least give us a hint."
"Nope," Evan said cheekily.
"Evan," John said, with puppy dog eyes.
"John."
"Lorne," John bit out, trying to stern this time.
"Sheppard."
"Lieutenant Colonel," John growled, eyes narrow.
"Colonel."
"Will you two get on with it?" Rodney snapped.
"I am sure that Evan's plan, whatever it is, will be fine," Teyla said in a firm, commanding voice, "so perhaps it would be best to move on for now."
John tried to stare Evan down for a few seconds longer, but the man refused to do anything but sit there and look innocent, and so John eventually had to give up. "Fine. Right. Okay, so I think that covers the basics, so now we're going to move on to actually planning out exactly what we're going to do, and come up with some contingencies. Since we've got time to set things up, I'm thinking that a variant on Plan Sheridan would work better than a Reynolds...."
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End Note: See also: PACMAN
(Next Chapter)