Homecoming

Chapter Nineteen Old Friends, Old Enemies

“Welcome to Atlantis,” Richard Woolsey said.

“Nice weather you’re having.” Colonel Steven Caldwell looked up at the lowering sky full of dark clouds, at the snow hastily shoveled back from the landing pad on the main pier where the Daedalus had come to rest.

“The climate is not what we would have asked for,” Woolsey admitted, “But any port in a storm, as they say.”

“So they do say,” Caldwell said, falling into step beside Woolsey. “My people will be glad to get out and stretch their legs a bit, even if it was a thirteen day run out instead of the usual eighteen. You may not like this planet as much, but it’s a full six days less for us, when we aren’t making a course correction to meet you as we did this time.”

Sheppard had come out to the pad as well, a heavy parka on instead of his usual jacket. “Colonel,” he said, giving him a sketchy salute, not quite sloppy enough to complain about, but not quite sharp enough to be properly respectful. He and Sheppard had had problems from day one. Not that he wouldn’t rather deal with Sheppard than Woolsey, who was a backbiting bureaucrat if he’d ever seen one. The way Woolsey had screwed Carter out of this job to get it himself still made his blood pressure rise.

“Sheppard.” He returned the salute with precisely the same shade of respect, elbow not quite straight. “We’ve got some of your supplies, but I couldn’t fit in the MANPAD systems you wanted, not with the priority medical equipment. Your surface to air missiles are slated as cargo for Hammond at the end of the month, unless Carter runs out of space too.”

“I hope she doesn’t,” Sheppard said, glancing back toward the towers of Atlantis over his shoulder.

“You’ll have dinner with me, Colonel?” Woolsey asked. “I’ve been looking forward to it. And of course your people are our guests.”

“Thanks very much,” Caldwell said. Of course his people had the liberty of the city. What was Woolsey trying to imply, that he could decide whether or not they had to stay on Daedalus?

“We’ve got a lot of teams in the field right now,” Woolsey said. “I’d like to bring you up to speed on the intelligence we’ve gathered.”

“I take it you’ll join us, Sheppard?” Caldwell asked. Sheppard was no friend, but he shouldn’t be cut out of the chain of command. He ought to be part of any intelligence briefing.

“Yeah, sure,” Sheppard said, and he thought he looked surprised.

Woolsey looked irritated. He’d like to be the only point of contact, but Caldwell wasn’t about to play that game. “I hope Ms. Emmagan can be there too, since she’s your expert on Pegasus,” he said.

“I’m sure she’d be delighted to fill you in,” Woolsey said.

Jennifer Keller stripped the last pair of latex gloves from her hands and dropped them in the bag for medical waste. The young mother opposite her clutched her baby more tightly to her breast, and Jennifer tried to find a smile. This was not a world where Atlantis had been well known, and it felt as though the locals grudged their presence in spite of the help they brought. The woman dipped her head, bent her knees — a gesture of respect, Jennifer remembered, tardily — and scurried away.

“That’s the lot of them,” Carson said, and pulled off his own gloves. “Rymmal says we’ve seen everyone.”

Jennifer nodded, and sat down on the edge of the folding exam table. The clinic was little more than a tent, a pavilion open on three sides: like a dozen clinics she’d run on Earth, and those clinics were also the last places she’d been this tired.

“Are we sure?” That was also a question from the clinic days, when she’d gotten used to at least an hour’s worth of stragglers, as frightened people nerved themselves to approach strangers.

From the twist of his mouth, Carson had experienced the same thing, but he said, “So Rymmal says. I’d say we have time for a cup of tea before we pack up.”

One of Rymmal’s family had set a heavy brass kettle over a spirit stove, and as she stirred the pot, the beads and baubles in her hair clicking softly, Jennifer caught a whiff of Carson’s strong black tea. She smiled again and worked her tired shoulders. It had been a long day, but she thought they’d done some good.

Her smile faded as she looked around the compound, the farmstead surrounded by a fence of new-cut wood that would be useless against the Darts and Culling beams. They had done some good, yes, but compared to what the Wraith had done… By the gate, the fields had been burned, the farmhouses blasted to rubble; the town, called Wland like the planet, the only thing like a city on this world, was an empty shell. Rymmal and his kin had already declared they would not return. They would melt into the hills, do their best to store food against the winter. Woolsey would not be pleased: they had hoped Wland would be able to trade.

The woman — Aari, her name was — rose gracefully, carrying pottery bowls. Jennifer accepted hers gratefully, sipped at the stewed black liquid. It tasted of the cooker’s fuel, scalded a path to the pit of her stomach, and Jennifer gave a sigh of satisfaction. Even if there were stragglers, the worst of the day’s work was done.

“Vati!”

She looked up at the shout from the compound’s edge, saw a boy running for the gate. She set the bowl aside, heart racing, saw Carson look up sharply.

Rymmal reached for the short crossbow that was Wland’s most advanced weapon. “Yrran?”

“Vati, the Genii! They’ve come to help!”

“Right,” Carson said, under his breath, and Rymmal frowned.

“How many?”

The boy stopped, breathing hard. From the look of him, dark and sharp-nosed, he was Rymmal’s son. “A dozen, maybe. Some of them stopped to look at the city, though.”

“And the rest of them are coming here?”

Yrran nodded. “The lady captain said she wanted to talk to you. She said they’re here to help us.”

Rymmal hesitated, visibly unsure, and Carson straightened.

“Right,” he said again. “Jennifer, head back to the gate. See if you can contact Atlantis.”

“The Genii were our allies,” Jennifer began. She felt slow, stupid, as though the rush of adrenaline had drowned her thoughts.

“Aye, but we’ve been gone a while,” Carson said. “I’d prefer not to take the chance.”

“So come with me,” Jennifer said. “We’ll both go back to the gate.”

Carson waved his hand at the examining table, the medical equipment still set up around the edges of the tent. “No good. They’ll know we’ve been here, we don’t want to act as though we’re either guilty or afraid of them. But I’d like to have backup if possible.”

Jennifer nodded, remembering similar calculations from other clinics, and Aari tugged at her sleeve.

“Quickly. This way.”

Jennifer started to set the tea bowl aside, but Aari caught her hand.

“No. Bring it.”

Jennifer did as she was told, frowning, then realized what the other woman had meant. When the Genii came, they would find one doctor and one cup, and hopefully not search for anyone else.

“We will tell them you left already,” Aari said, with a sudden fleeting grin. “Come.”

Jennifer followed her, the tea slopping over her hand. She winced, transfered the cup to her other hand, and stuck her fingers in her mouth. It didn’t seem fair that she’d have to worry about scalded fingers on top of everything else…

“This way,” Aari said again. She had led them to a break in the compound wall, a point where the fence was still unfinished, and now she snatched the cup from Jennifer’s hand, emptied it with a quick flick of her wrist, and tucked it into the front of her overblouse. “I will take you to the Ring.”

Jennifer ducked through the opening, looked back in time to see a group in Genii uniforms striding through the compound gate. Their leader was a woman with bright red curls — unusual; she’d thought the Genii were pretty much male-dominated — and Rymmal moved to meet her, crossbow carefully pointed at the ground. Carson leaned against the examining table, waiting, back stiff, and Aari touched her shoulder again.

“We must go.”

Carson Beckett stuck his hands in his pockets and did his best to look neither threatened nor threatening. He couldn’t really see the group all that clearly, but he had an uneasy sense that there was something familiar about the leader. He’d met a fair number of Genii the last time around, some reasonable, some less so; he could only hope this was one of the rational ones. And then the woman turned fully toward him, pushing past Rymmal with a word thrown over her shoulder, and that hope died. The red-haired captain with her deceptively pretty face was indeed familiar, though he’d hoped she was someone he’d never have to see again.

“Ah, crap,” he said under his breath, and the woman stopped in front of him, hooking her hands in the belt of her uniform jacket.

“Dr. Beckett.”

“Sora.”

Two spots of color flared on her pale cheeks, but she seemed to have her temper under control. “Where’s the rest of your team?”

“No team.” Carson spread his hands. “It’s just me.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Sora said. “You Lanteans travel in packs. And this is not the equipment of a single man.”

“Rymmal and his family were helping me,” Carson said, and hoped he hadn’t caused more trouble for them.

Sora gave him a frankly skeptical look, and beckoned to one of the Genii hovering at her shoulder. “Halgren. Take two men and search the village.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the man answered, and turned away.

“It’s only me,” Carson said again.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” Sora asked. “And what is Atlantis doing here, anyway? These aren’t the sort of people that usually merit your concern.”

Carson spread his hands again, including the medical supplies in the gesture. “Running a clinic—”

“We asked for their help,” Rymmal said quickly. “You know how badly we were Culled. Sickness followed.”

“You’d have done better asking us for help,” Sora said. “At least we have food to spare for our friends.”

Carson’s attention sharpened. They hadn’t exactly been keeping that a secret, they couldn’t, given how hard they’d been trying to set up trade relationships, but that sounded as though the Genii had been keeping tabs on them.

“But not medicines,” Rymmal said. He met her glare squarely. “You know that to be true.”

The color flared again in Sora’s cheeks. “And have they helped you?”

Carson winced, but Rymmal dodged the trap.

“Dr. Beckett has been very good.”

Somewhere in one of the outbuildings, a baby began to wail. A woman’s voice scolded briefly, and fell away. A moment later, a young woman emerged from the house, cradling a baby in a brightly patterned sling, bouncing it in a vain attempt to stem the crying. An older woman followed, glaring over her shoulder at the Genii still in the building. At least there was no violence, Carson thought, not yet. Sora was a loose cannon, you couldn’t tell what she was going to do. And thank God the team wasn’t with them, Teyla’s presence would send her right over the edge—

Sora jerked her chin at one of the waiting soldiers. “Tass. Search his supplies. Make sure it is just medicine.”

The man grinned. He wasn’t very tall, but he was broad through the body, with a nose that had been flattened and a look in his eye that reminded Carson of a playground bully. He shouldered his way forward, deliberately jostling Carson, daring him to protest. Carson took a careful step back, mouth tightly shut. He was very aware of Sora’s eyes on him, her mocking smile.

Tass stooped, unlatched the nearest case, the flipped the lid back with the barrel of his rifle. He fumbled with the sealed packets, sifting through them with his free hand, then gave the box a kick that scattered half a dozen sterile dressings onto the ground. Carson stiffened, made himself relax. Sora was just looking for an excuse, and he would not give her one.

Tass opened the next case, stared for a moment at the boxes that still half filled its interior, and kicked it over, spilling the contents into the dirt. Rymmal made a noise of protest, quickly stifled, but Carson kept still. Everything in those cases was sealed, the medicines would survive being bounced around a little — And then Tass wrenched open the lid of the cooler, scooped out a handful of vials. He swore at the cold, and tossed the bottles onto the exam table. They bounced and scattered, clattering intact to the ground, and Tass set his heel on one, grinding it into the dirt.

“Oh, now, that’s just wasteful,” Carson said, in spite of himself.

Sora’s smile widened. “Be careful, doctor.”

Carson shoved his hands back into his pockets to hide his clenched fists. Tass had moved on to the open boxes on the work table, the racks of medicines and supplies not yet cleared away from the last patient. He examined them incuriously, then lowered the barrel of his rifle and swept the table clear.

“All right, that’s enough!” Carson took a step forward. “You’re making a mess of things you can’t replace—”

Tass swung to face him, rifle coming up, and Carson froze. Tass grinned, stepping around the end of the exam table, and shoved the muzzle under the point of Carson’s chin. It snapped his head back, the metal cold against his throat, pressing painfully above his adam’s apple.

“Where’s your team, doctor?” Sora said, softly.

Carson swallowed. “There is no team,” he said. “It’s just me.”

Sora eyed him for a long moment, and Carson held himself rigidly still. That was one problem with being a doctor, you knew exactly what a rifle shot at close range would do to a human body — he’d seen it before, the kind of head wound that had the ambulance attendants cracking black-humored jokes because the reality was unbearable to look at. Headless horseman, that was a motorcycle crash he’d seen when he was a student at Edinburgh; Atlantis’s Marines talked about eating a bullet…

“Hands on your head,” Sora said abruptly, and Carson gasped, releasing breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. He did as he was told, and slowly, almost reluctantly, the pressure eased. Tass gave a grunt, almost of disappointment, and stepped away.

“Goran, help Tass go through all of this,” Sora said. “But carefully. I don’t want anything damaged. We’re bringing it back with us.”

“You can’t do that,” Carson protested.

“I most certainly can.” Sora was smiling again, flushed and impossibly pretty, like a teenager on her way to a party. “And what’s more, you’ll be coming with them.”

Jennifer struggled through the tangle of leaves and fallen branches that littered the forest floor. Ahead of her, the Wlander woman paused between trees, looking back impatiently, as Jennifer fought to move faster. She had thought she was fit, made extra efforts to keep in shape, to be able to do these missions, but this… Nothing prepared you for the fear that robbed you of your breath.

“We’re almost there,” Aari said. “Look, you can see the Ring.”

She pointed, and Jennifer stooped to peer through the leaves. Sure enough, there was the Stargate, the cold metal gleaming even on a cloudy day, sitting alone in the center of a clearing — alone except for the Genii soldier leaning against the DHD, rifle slung casually over one shoulder. Seeing him, Jennifer could have groaned aloud. That was the last thing she needed — how the hell was she going to get past him?

“They have left a guard,” Aari said, unnecessarily. “What will you do?”

“I have no idea.” Jennifer shook her head, and moved carefully toward the edge of the woods. The trees came within fifteen yards of the gate, but that wasn’t nearly enough… The next time I go offworld, I’m taking a sidearm, Jennifer thought. I’m going to get Lorne to teach me how to use it, and I’m going to go armed. This isn’t Earth, there’s no rules about medics being unarmed, and, oh, God, I could use a gun right now…

She shook herself. She didn’t have a gun, didn’t even have a tranquilizer shot, which was maybe more practical for next time. At least she already knew how to give an injection.

“I could distract him?” Aari said, but she sounded doubtful, and Jennifer shook her head.

“No. Too risky. You’re going to have to live with them.” Regardless of what happens to us, she added silently, and surveyed the situation again. A distraction was a good idea. Maybe if he heard something strange, he’d go investigate it. She looked at the ground around her, found a rock the size of a golf ball, and crouched to sweep her hands through the leaf litter until she had half a dozen stones marble sized and larger. The trouble was, she also had to dial the gate and get a lock, and she wasn’t really sure how long that was going to take. No, she’d have to get him away from the gate, bring him closer and somehow knock him out or something. It wasn’t like she had anything to tie him up with…

“I have a stick,” Aari said suddenly, and there was a rustling as she held out a length of branch as thick as Jennifer’s ankle. “If you can get him here, I will knock him down.”

Jennifer bit her lip, considering. Yes, throw rocks at the Genii and get him to come closer, but, no, don’t hit him unless we have to… She’d always been good at darts, at ring toss and horseshoes and bar games that involved throwing things. If they could get him closer… She hefted the largest rock in her palm, judging its weight. It should be enough to bring down a man.

“All right,” she said, and heard her voice higher than usual with fear. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to throw these rocks at him, try to get him to come over here, and when he gets close enough, I’m going to knock him out with this.” She held up the biggest rock. “If that doesn’t work, then you hit him.”

This didn’t sound like the sort of plan Colonel Sheppard would approve — it sounded more like something Ronon would try, that needed Ronon-sized muscles to pull it off — but Aari was nodding in agreement.

“I am ready.”

“Right,” Jennifer said. She braced herself, and flung the first stone, hoping she’d hit close enough to at least make a noise. She was stronger than she’d realized, or maybe the adrenaline was helping. The stone hit the turf a couple of yards from the Genii and tumbled to a stop practically at his feet. He looked up sharply, and in the same instant Aari gave a soft cry, something between a human voice and a bird’s.

Jennifer threw a second stone, aiming shorter this time, and the Genii unslung his rifle, moving slowly toward the treeline. Jennifer held her breath, willing him closer, and swore as he stopped about five yards away. She froze, watching him scan the trees, swore again as he reached for his radio. How could she have forgotten that the Genii had radios, had technology? Almost without thinking, she grabbed the biggest rock, pitched it as hard as she could at the Genii’s head. It struck with an ugly thud that she could hear from where she stood, and the Genii fell forward, sprawling onto the grass.

“Oh, my god,” Jennifer said, and at her side Aari gave a crow of delight.

“Well done! Go now, before he wakes.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen any time soon,” Jennifer said dubiously. The blow had sounded like breaking bone. She started toward the gate, but paused for an instant beside the Genii, automatically feeling for a carotid pulse. It was there, slow and thready; she frowned, feeling quickly along the man’s skull, and felt bone give under her gentle touch. A definite skull fracture, right where the rock had hit—

“What’s wrong?” Aari called from the edge of the wood, and Jennifer scrambled to her feet. She had to go, had to get to the gate — oh, God, she could have killed him, maybe had killed him, but there was nothing she could do about it now. She ran for the DHD, tasting bile. She would not vomit, she would not fulfill that stereotype.

The DHD loomed in front of her, the rings of symbols for a moment all equally alien. She took a breath, controlled herself the way she would master herself before surgery, and pressed the first symbol. She punched in the address, trying to ignore the still body on the grass behind her, the taste of copper in her mouth. Carson needed her, needed the gate team, and maybe the Marines — and at last the final chevron locked.

The gate opened with a rush of light, and she staggered through into the gate room.

“Dr. Keller?”

She didn’t recognize the voice, couldn’t bother to look, concentrating instead on getting the problem across in the fewest possible words. “Dr. Beckett is in trouble. I need Colonel Sheppard now.”

Her knees went weak with sudden reaction, and she sat down on the gateroom steps as alarms began to sound. Someone came hurrying down the steps — Dr. Zelenka, face drawn into a worried frown.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.” Jennifer shook her head for emphasis. Her hair was coming down, where a branch had caught and pulled loose a pin, and she began mechanically to tidy it, seeing again the Genii guard’s collapse.

“Dr. Keller.” That was Colonel Sheppard, shrugging into armor as he spoke, a group of Marines forming up behind him. “What happened?”

Jennifer took a deep breath, trying to order her racing thoughts. “We were just finishing up the clinic and Rymmal’s son told us that the Genii had come through the gate. Carson — Dr. Beckett told me to go back to the gate and get help.” She paused. “Before you ask, they didn’t hurt anybody, but they were definitely acting in a threatening manner. Dr. Beckett was concerned, and the Wlanders were definitely afraid.”

Sheppard looked over his shoulder at the baby-faced Marine lieutenant, who nodded sharply. Ronon was with them, checking the charge of his blaster, and Teyla was adjusting her P90. And — Jennifer’s breath caught in her throat — there was Rodney, armored and ready, an odd smile on his face as he met her eyes.

Sheppard said, “How’d you get back here, Dr. Keller? Didn’t they have someone watching the gate?”

“Well,” Jennifer said. “Yes. They did. I, um, knocked him out. With a rock.”

Sheppard blinked once, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Nice work, doc.”

Jennifer forced a smile in return. “Colonel, I want to come with you.”

The rest of the team was ready at the gate, waiting for Sheppard’s order. Jennifer was conscious of her straggling hair, the dirt on her hands, the fear that they must still be able to smell. She made herself meet Sheppard’s eyes squarely.

“Please.”

Sheppard hesitated a moment longer, then nodded. “OK.” He looked over his shoulder. “Dial Wland, please.”

“Dialing now.”

The chevrons lit, locked, and the gate whooshed open. Jennifer took a deep breath, and saw Rodney looking at her. She forced another smile, and plunged into the wormhole.

They came out into empty meadow, the Marines straightening from their ready crouch as they realized there was no one there. Jennifer looked to her left, toward the woods where she had left the Genii soldier, but he was gone. There was nothing she could do, nothing to be done, but she felt as though a hand had closed around her heart. She might have killed a man, and she would never know.

“Jennifer.” That was Rodney’s voice, and she shook herself, shoved that knowledge aside until she had time to face it.

“Yes.”

“Come on.”

“Yes,” she said again, and followed after them.