Homecoming

Chapter Twenty-seven Feint

Teyla had just walked into her quarters and taken off her shirt. It reeked and so did she. But one of the best things about Atlantis, one of the things she had gotten far too used to, were the hot showers. A little guiltily she looked over at Torren’s bed, his toys scattered on the floor. He was not here. Torren was with his father on New Athos, and much as she loved her son she could not say that she wasn’t glad of a few hours of peace and quiet. She would take a hot shower and put on something comfortable, old warm up pants and a tank top, and do absolutely nothing for a little while. She dropped her dirty shirt on top of the full hamper and turned around to turn the water on…

“Teyla to the gateroom.” Her radio crackled to life, Woolsey’s voice urgent and sharp. “Teyla to the gateroom.”

She swung around, grabbing up her dirty shirt again and pulling it on as she ran. She hurried up the stairs just as the transport doors opened ahead of her and Rodney dodged out.

“What the hell is the big idea?” Rodney demanded of the whole control room. “We just stood down fifteen minutes ago!”

Amelia Banks looked up from her board, where Woolsey bent over her shoulder. “We have a Culling in progress,” she said.

“Come on, Rodney,” Teyla said and hustled him toward the stairs. Lorne’s team were assembling with John and Ronon before the gate. Ronon held out her flak vest to her, a grim look on her face.

Woolsey had hurried down the steps behind her. “We had an emergency call. Play it, Banks.”

A crackle on the speakers, a panicked human voice. “Atlantis, you have to help us! We have Darts… I don’t know how many! They’re… “ A sob, a scream. “You have to help us! Atlantis…” It faded in a burst of static, as though the gate had been cut.

John slung her P90 into her arms, hers, the one with the shortened strap that she liked, his face tight. “Punch the gate, Banks!”

Above, the first chevron locked, lighting blue.

“Who is being Culled?” Teyla asked him.

John’s eyes locked with hers. “New Athos.”

Bright white terror ran through her, sharper than pain, sharper than fear. Torren.

The third chevron locked.

“Did you know who it was who called?” Woolsey asked at her elbow.

“No, I’m sorry. I don’t,” she said. Her voice was absolutely even. “I did not hear well enough.” As though every limb had turned to fire, as though she stood somewhere far above herself, purer and brighter than she had ever burned. New Athos.

The sixth lit. Lorne looked at her and gave her a quick nod.

Rodney shrugged into his vest, his eyes on the gate. “Come on, baby. Get a lock!”

If the Wraith were dialed in…

The seventh chevron engaged, the Ring of the Ancestors flaring to life.

“Yes!” Rodney said, flicking the safety off on his gun.

“I’m on point, Teyla’s with me, Lorne on six,” John said, barrel rising toward the gate. “Expect hostiles as soon as we clear the gate. McKay, watch where you’re pointing that.” At the moment it was at the middle of Ronon’s back.

Torren.

Woolsey said something, but she had no idea what. Her feet were already moving, one pace behind John.

Teyla plunged into the event horizon.

And out into bright afternoon sunshine. They dodged right, Ronon and Rodney behind them going left, low and on one knee in the tall grass, covering the Marine team emerging from the Stargate. Above, the trees moved in a gentle wind and the tree frogs were chirping. There was no sign of anyone.

“Check the DHD,” John said, and Rodney ran out, covered by half a dozen guns.

He bent over it for an excruciatingly long moment, then straightened. “It looks ok,” he said. “And I don’t see any sign of our friend who called.”

No blood. No body. But then, the Darts did not leave them.

Teyla’s mind was clear, everything around them sharp and detailed. The grass was trampled along the path, but the woods were still. The frogs at least should be startled into silence by people running and fleeing.

Unless they were all gone.

“Let’s head for the settlement,” John said. “Lorne…”

“Got it, sir,” Lorne said, dropping back, one of his men with him.

Two miles. It was just short of two miles to the edge of the Athosian fields. Down the hill and through the trees, across the stream and over the next hill. Birds were singing undisturbed. The sun was hot, a warm summer day, a beautiful day. A beautiful day for a little boy playing outside, a little boy barefooted in the sunshine…

Across the stream, running singing between banks green with fragrant herbs and long ferns. No blood. No bodies. No sounds.

Her heart was pounding in her ears.

John made a swift gesture, sinking down. They all did, silent on the path. Only he could see over the hill to the fields, taller than her and a pace ahead. She crept forward to his elbow and he did not gesture her back. She must see what he saw.

The fields were golden with the ripe grain. Four or five figures toiled in them, straw hats on their heads as their sickles rose and fell. Beyond, the cooking smoke rose from the settlement, just cooking fires as the day was warm. The reapers worked steadily. One, hatless even in the sun, was unmistakable. Halling’s hair gleamed bronze in the sun.

“What the hell?” John mouthed.

Teyla crept forward again, almost against his side. She could see Jinto, stopping to mop his face, doing a man’s work among the reapers. Behind him, shorter than the uncut grain, three children were gleaning, baskets on their arms, loping and playing, calling to one another. In the settlement someone was hanging out wash, bright cloth flapping in the sun on a line between tent poles.

“I do not see anything wrong,” Teyla whispered, incredulous.

“I don’t either.” John shook his head, his brow furrowed. “A trap?”

“They would never get Jinto and Halling to go along with it,” Teyla said. “Never. They would die first.”

John digested that a moment. Then slowly he stood up. “Ronon.”

“On it.” Ronon slipped along in the edge of the wood, swift as a shadow, to cover them.

“Let’s take a walk.” John reached a hand down to help her to her feet.

Together, they came out of the trees to the edge of the field, guns at port arms, every moment seeming as long as hours.

“Teyla!” Jinto, who was still fanning himself with his hat, looked up. “Father, it’s Teyla!”

John raised his left hand in greeting. Unlike her, he could manage the P90 with one hand. “Jinto!”

Halling raised his head, as did the other reapers. Halling laid his sickle on the ground and smiled, though she thought he also looked perplexed. “Colonel Sheppard! Teyla! We did not expect you for two days yet.”

They walked toward him, Ronon and the others keeping silent watch from the edge of the woods.

“Truly, we did not expect to be here so soon either,” Teyla said.

“We had a distress call,” John said flatly. A thin line of sweat was running down his neck into the collar of his black shirt. “Saying that New Athos was under attack. That there was a Culling.”

Halling looked from one to the other, his smile fading. “We have made no such call.”

John’s frown deepened. “Somebody activated the gate and sent through a radio signal. A distress call. Saying that there was a Culling happening right now. Here. We came as fast as we could.”

Halling spread his hands to the sun dappled fields. The reapers were out, bringing in the grain. “As you can see, nothing is happening. I am deeply grateful that you came to our assistance, and also mortified that you have done so in vain. I cannot imagine who has done such a thing, and I do not like for us to waste your time thus.”

“Somebody accessed the gate and sent out a distress call,” John said doggedly. “I think we’d better find out who.”

“The gate is some distance from the settlement,” Halling said. “We don’t have a watch on the gate and no one can see it from our fields. Anyone could have dialed the gate.

That is true, Teyla said.

Come. We will ask. Halling looked apologetic. Of course. It was embarrassing to the Athosians to cry for help when none was required, to waste the time of an ally who might, the next time, be less swift to come to their aid. Perhaps someone dialed for. He looked as though he could not think of a good reason.

Yeah, John said. He looked only a hair less wary. He turned back toward the edge of the woods. It's ok! Ronon! Lorne!

Ronon rose up like a phantom from the edge of the grain field, his energy pistol in his hand. This is weird.

Tell me about it, John said as the others emerged from the edge of the trees. Let's go see what Halling can shake out of his folks.

I do not understand, Teyla said. The adrenaline was leaving her body, leaving her suddenly flat and drained, as though it ran from her like water.

Halling had turned and they followed him up the path from field to settlement, the sun hot above them.

I don't either, John said. But I don't like it.

A few people came over curiously as they came into the settlement, mostly children and the few elders remaining. Most of the men and women were in the fields at this time of day, or had gone toward the river to fish or to gather the green ferns that grew along its banks in the spray of the swift moving water.

Halling pitched his voice to carry. Was anyone dialed Atlantis today? Our friends have had a call from us. They have come at our urgent request. Who has called them?

John looked at the gaggle of young teens, the ones too young to work as Jinto did. It's ok to tell if you did it for a joke. I just want to know who did it.

Some joke, Rodney said at Teyla's elbow.

Yes, she said tightly. It is hardly funny.

Way I speak with you?

Teyla turned, feeling a little weak in the knees now that the adrenaline high was receding. A distress call from New Athos when her son was here with his father was a terror she had anticipated in her worst dreams, but that did not make it any easier when it came. Reason had no place in this.

Kanaan held Torren by the hand. Torren looked rebellious, as he did now that he was a big boy. Torren responded to her mood, and he must know how worried she had been even if the cause meant nothing to him.

Of course, Teyla said quietly. Bending, she scooped Torren into her arms, pressing her face against his soft hair. He smelled like Torren, like warm baby and sunshine, and he put his arms around her neck. Tears pricked behind her eyes.

Leaving John and Rodney talking with Halling, she went aside, standing in the shade of a tent. The bees were buzzing in the fruiting tree above, and across the encampment Ronon stood careful watch. John glanced around, and she saw him stiffen. Then he turned, his eyes on Halling.

We must talk, Kanaan said.

She brought her eyes back to him, his tired familiar face, the face of her friend of a lifetime, the father of her son. His dark eyes were bright.

Torren is a year and a half old, Kanaan said. And while I have been glad to have him these days to become reacquainted since your return to this galaxy, you had him six months.

And I have told you I never meant to do that, Teyla said hotly. He was on Atlantis when we went to Earth, and we could not get back for many months. It was not by my choice.

And what do you think I felt? The gate address dead? All the word from other worlds that the City of the Ancestors was destroyed? What do you think I thought?

Teyla bent her head. I am sure you thought him dead. I am sure you thought us dead. But there was no way to tell you otherwise. It preyed on me, that you must think so. But we had no way of communicating with you. She lifted her face to his again. I will tell you a thousand times that I am sorry. But I do not know what else I could have done. Torren was struggling in her arms, and she bent to put him on the ground at their feet.

You could not gate away from the city before it left? he asked. You could not have brought Torren to me, if you would not come yourself? They would not let you go?

Teyla took a deep breath. That is not true, she said. Or. Woolsey offered me the chance to leave, me and Ronon. I could have gone.

And you did not. His voice was mild, but she saw him stiffen.

I did not, Teyla said, every word like a dagger. I did not know it would be so long. I thought it would be a few weeks, perhaps. And I could not leave my friends and the duties to which I have promised myself.

You did not wish to leave.

Teyla drew herself up. Ao, she said.

I mourned you, he said simply.

I know.

I mourned my son, and sung for him as though he had been taken in a Culling, with no body left to burn. His voice caught, and she knew this was not the first time. He had sung thus for his first son, Ayahdu, taken by the Wraith at eight years old. I cannot do this again and again. I cannot mourn over and over, never knowing.

It is not fair, Teyla agreed steadily. And it is not right.

Will you and Torren stay here this time? Not Torren alone for a few nights?â

Teyla swallowed. Her eyes evaded his. Rodney was pacing around, swinging his arms. There is much to do…, she began.

You are never coming back. Kanaan said it as a statement, and there was no anger in his voice. He shook his head, a rueful smile on his face, as though he smiled at his own foolishness. Her father had looked thus, when he said that a man who tried to tame the wind got what he deserved. This is not your home, Teyla. Perhaps it never has been. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow you will return, but you do not. There is always a good reason.

Then things are…, she began, and her eyes pricked with tears.

You are never coming, Kanaan said quietly. This is something I know. You will never stay here and work in the fields, hunt the forests and leave your white towers.

Then what do you want me to do? Teyla blinked hard. There was no course that was not wrong, no choice that a good person could make. She knew what she should do. She should stay here with her people, raise her son as an Athosian should be raised, in the bosom of the people. She should not walk away.

“I want you to release me.”

Her eyes flew to his, but there was no bitterness there, only understanding.

“Teyla, we came together briefly in sorrow. You mourned your friend Kate, and I mourned those I had lost. We were friends who took comfort in one another. And that was as it should be, that you should find hope in me and I in you.” He looked down at Torren, playing in the entrance of the tent. “Our son is a gift unlooked for, to both of us. But he is not enough to bind us together when the paths of our lives have never run together. I cannot live in your world, among your white towers, and you do not belong here.”

“I am not my mother,” she said, though her voice choked. “I am not a woman who just walks away.”

“You are not,” he said. “And I am not asking to keep Torren here with me, but only to see him and have him stay with me from time to time, that he may know me as well. I am not trying to take your son from you, Teyla. But this…” Kanaan shook his head. “We were not meant to be together. It has been more than a year that we have lived apart, for first one good reason and then another. But I think we both know that we will never share a bed again.”

“Kanaan, if that is what… I can do better. When next I come here, when there is more time…”

He put his hand on her wrist, her old friend. “Teyla, can you honestly tell me that your heart is not given to another? Or even that it is free?”

She dropped her eyes. “That does not matter.”

“It matters very much.” He took both her hands in his. “I loved my wife, Tre, who is dead. I have known real love, love as deep as the seas. Do you think I could be content with the pretense of it? Do you think I am a man who would wish that? Let us release one another, in honesty and friendship.”

“I have failed,” she said, and the bitterness pooled in her throat. “I am no better than Tegan Who Walked Through Gates, hurting those who came into her path as unthinking as the flood dashes away the autumn’s leaves. I have ruined everything and made everyone miserable.”

“Nothing is ruined while life and hope lasts,” he began.

And then.

Their heads lifted as one, like startled prey animals which have suddenly caught the scent of the hunter. On the ground before the tent, Torren opened his mouth in a long scream.

“Wraith!” Teyla shouted.

They were too far from the gate to hear or see the whoosh of the Stargate opening, but Darts traveled very, very fast indeed.

“Wraith!” Kanaan yelled. “Halling! They have come through the Ring!”

Rodney swore, he and John turning at the same time.

Teyla swept the screaming toddler up with one arm, the one not carrying the P90, and thrust him at Kanaan. “Run!” she said. “Run away from the tents and get down. The Darts will be drawn by our fire!”

“Everybody scatter!” Halling yelled, his voice carrying. “Into the fields! Get into the woods! It’s a Culling!”

Kanaan did not hesitate. Grabbing Torren about the waist, he sprinted for the long grass and the trees beyond it, Torren reaching back red-faced. “Momma!”

His cry was the last thing she heard as she turned around.

“Spread out!” John shouted. “Four points! Get them in a crossfire! Lorne, go left!”

Four points. Darts cull in a straight line, their beam sweeping up what is directly beneath the ship. Taking fire from four points, they could not dive on more than two at once, leaving the others free to fire. The trick was for the two dived upon to get out of the way. Instinct says to run, but running before a Dart is folly. Instinct says to throw oneself to the ground, but that makes no difference. What one must do is at odds with instinct — one must dodge at 90 degrees to the culling beam. Once one is out of the narrow path, the Dart cannot touch one, no matter how close it comes.

“Incoming!” Ronon shouted.

There were three Darts, sleek and bright in the afternoon sun, coming in low and swift.

John stood right in their path, in the middle of the square, with Ronon beyond him and to the right.

“Rodney?” Teyla yelled.

“Got it.” John and Ronon were taking the fire. She and Rodney and Lorne’s men must make the shot.

The first Dart swooped low, making the sickening sound of a predator in a dive that so innately unnerved humans. She did not look at John. She did not watch to see if he and Ronon would get out of the way. She waited for the shot.

Just there. The bright tracers blazed away, like moments elongating, scoring along the wing, diagonally across the Dart’s underbelly, snapping off steel.

“Teyla!” Ronon called, fresh as though he were having a good time. “Second.”

The second Dart dove on her, and it took all her will to wait until the last moment, until it was too late to change course at that speed. And then she flung herself to the left, the culling beam missing her by feet as the Dart swept overhead. There was the rattle of fire, and she saw it lurch, saw the beam generator sparking and the blue field died.

“Good shot, Ronon!” John yelled from wherever he was.

The third Dart went into a dive. Gunfire rattled off it, one wing smoking as something hit. Lorne jumped clear as the blue beams deployed.

After that there was no thinking, just movement rehearsed so often as to become instinct. Eight shooters on three Darts was not good, but it bought time for the Athosians to flee, and the Darts seemed to be intent on the team. Again and again they dove on them, ignoring easier targets — reapers trapped in the open in the field, a few elders who could not run fast, a child who broke from cover and would have been snapped up, had the Dart’s pilot not been intent on Rodney.

The P90 heated against her shoulder. Teyla put in the last clip, swinging about as another dove on John. He threw himself flat just past the edge of the beam.

Some part of her mind that was still thinking thought it was odd to ignore so many other targets, but perhaps they wanted to get rid of resistance first. It was not usually a Wraith technique, but they did adapt to new situations all too well.

“Rodney!” One of the Darts was diving on him.

“I see it!” Rodney dodged left ninety degrees, gun in hand. Too late she saw what was wrong. The one diving had no beam generator. It was the one that had taken fire from Ronon. It was a decoy. The second Dart, just behind it, deployed its culling beam in parallel.

“Rodney!”

Ronon’s fire hit the third Dart. Something blew out, and it twisted in the air, turning and lifting as the pilot struggled for control, heading back toward the Stargate. One of Lorne’s men fired, dark smoke trailing from its wing as it passed overhead.

The first Dart pulled out of the dive, the second following after, nearly clipping the treetops as it went, driving hard and low for the gate.

John was beside her, chest heaving with exertion, sweat running down his face, making tracks in the dust. The three Darts raced for the Stargate, a streak of smoke behind them.

“Everybody ok?” John asked.

Teyla choked and could hardly get the words out. “No. They got Rodney.”

It was getting solidly dark by the Stargate, the night closing in outside the circle of the lights they had brought from Atlantis. John paced the edge of the circle, P90 still tight against his chest, biting back the need to ask what kind of progress they were making. Zelenka was doing everything he could, laptop patched into the DHD, reading the buffer, Halling and Teyla at his side, checking the addresses as they appeared. Ronon had taken a Marine team to search the village perimeter, not because any of them really expected to find anything, but because he had to do something. Beckett was back at the village, tending to the few injuries, mostly cuts and bruises, one badly sprained ankle when one of the young women had stepped wrong as she fled. He knew that, knew that the jumper they’d brought through just in case would report if and when they found anything, and it still took everything he had to keep from asking again.

“Colonel Sheppard.”

Lorne’s voice crackled in his earpiece, and he felt the adrenaline shoot through him. “Go ahead.”

“We’ve got nothing, sir. No sign the Wraith have been in orbit. It looks like it was a straight raid through the gate.”

He’d expected as much, but the disappointment was still painful, left the taste of bile in his throat. “Copy that. You can bring them home, Major.”

“Permission to make one more sweep,” Lorne said. “Out to lunar orbit. There might be something—”

“Negative,” John said. A part of him wanted to say yes, send them out one more time, and maybe even one more after that, but if they hadn’t found any trace of Wraith activity, then the Wraith hadn’t been there.

“Copy,” Lorne said, after a moment. “We’re heading back to the village, eta six minutes.”

“Six minutes,” John acknowledged, and turned back to the DHD. At least it gave him an excuse to ask for an update.

“Lorne’s finished his search,” he said, and shook his head as Teyla turned too quickly. “Nothing.”

“We did not expect it,” she said, but he could see the same unreasonable disappointment in her eyes.

“Can we dial home, or do we need to wait to use the gate?” John went on.

“I have copied the buffer,” Radek said. He looked even less tidy than usual, hair standing up and his glasses smudged, a mark on his nose where he had adjusted his glasses with dirty hands. “It is just a matter now of weeding out the known addresses. Which we are doing.”

“OK,” John said. He wanted to tell them to hurry, that every second they wasted was a second when Rodney could be dying, but they all knew that, knew it too well. His chest prickled, as though he could still feel the points where Todd’s claws had pierced the skin, as though at any second his own life would be dragged from him, and he shook himself, hard, turned his back on the others to touch the radio again. “Major. You can head straight back to Atlantis. Give them an update, and tell them to stand by.”

There was a little pause before Lorne answered, and John guessed he had swallowed a protest.

“Roger that.”

“John,” Teyla said, at his elbow, and he looked down to see her face as taut and worried as he felt. She started to say something more, then stopped, shaking her head. “I think — I don’t know.”

“Yeah.” He laid his hand on her shoulder, just for an instant, seeing again the sparkle of the culling beam, hearing the whine of the Darts. “They were after Rodney,” he said, slowly, the thought that had been nagging at him finally coming clear. “This wasn’t random, and it wasn’t a regular Culling. They wanted McKay.”

Teyla’s breath caught in her throat, but she nodded slowly. “Yes. The Darts could have had many of my people, but they concentrated on us. I thought they were trying to break our resistance, but — I fear you are right, John.”

“Yeah.” John took a breath. “There’s one good thing about it. If they were after him specifically, they aren’t going to just feed on him right away.”

Teyla tipped her head to one side, her expresion lightening a fraction. “That is true.”

Of course, if the Wraith wanted McKay in particular, it was because they wanted something from him, and that was so not good… John shoved that thought aside, trying to hold onto the only shred of hope. Rodney was a lot tougher than he looked, and smart as hell; he’d be able to buy time, resist until they could come after him. It would take time to get him back to whatever hive had sent the Darts — and he hoped to hell it wasn’t Queen Death’s — and in that time… He turned back to the DHD. “How’s it coming?”

Radek looked at him. “We have an answer,” he said. “There were thirty-seven addresses in the buffer, from the last six months. Halling and Teyla have identified twenty-eight of them, and I believe we can eliminate them, for now. It is not likely this attack came from a human world. That leaves nine addresses to investigate.”

“I am sorry,” Halling said. “I would not for anything have had our people used this way.”

“It’s not your fault,” John said.

“If there is anything more—” Halling began, and John managed a smile.

“You’ve done it already. Nine addresses — we can search nine addresses.”

“Maybe we can eliminate others, too,” Radek said, not looking up from his screen. “Once we are back on Atlantis. It’s possible.”

“Yes,” Teyla said.

“Yeah,” John said. A light was moving in the night sky, bright against the stars, and Lorne’s voice sounded in his ear.

“Preparing to dial the gate, Colonel.”

“Lorne’s coming through,” Sheppard said, and glanced around to be sure the area was clear before he touched his radio. “Go ahead, Major.”

The symbols lit, and the wormhole whooshed open, leaving the event horizon shimmering blue, casting light brighter than day. The jumper hovered for a moment, adjusting its course, and slid through. John took a breath, and touched his radio again. “Ronon. Bring your team back. We’ve got places to go.”

“Did you find where they took him?” Ronon’s voice was eager.

“We’ve got some places to start,” John said. He looked around the circle of light, seeing the Marines on guard, Halling still shaking his head, shamefaced, Radek bent over his computer as though he could force some last piece of information from it. Teyla looked back at him, grave and resolute, and he nodded slowly. They had a starting point, and they would make that be enough.