The Lost

Chapter Five: Radim’s Proposition

The Genii homeworld had not changed at all. In fact, for a moment, standing in the meadow full of flowers, the bees in the clover, John thought that he had stepped back in time as well, five years before to their first ill-fated trip there. Teyla stood beside him as she had then, but Rodney and Ford were gone.

Ford.

He wouldn’t think about Rodney being gone the same way, never to be recovered, an MIA on his file that would never be erased.

Carson bustled up behind him just as he cloaked the jumper behind them, looking up at the pristine blue sky. “Same old same old, I see.”

“Indeed,” Teyla said, as three Genii scouts rose up from the long grass, rifles pointed at them. “It is exactly the same.”

John spread his hands, though he kept his P90 in his right hand, holding it out on its sling. “We’re here to talk to Ladon Radim,” he said. “From Atlantis.”

The nearest of the men, a short man with a bulldog’s jaw nodded sharply. “We know who you are, Colonel Sheppard. You’ll come with us.”

It was a good sign that Radim’s men made no attempt to disarm them, despite the fact that their weapons were far superior to the simple repeating rifles of the Genii. John cast a sideways glance at them as they crossed the meadow to the decrepit barn which held an entrance to the Genii’s underground complex. Bolt action repeating rifles were a new innovation for the Genii. Five years ago they’d been single shot, more or less the equivalent of the 1853 Enfield. These were getting closer to the Brownings of the not-too-distant past. The Genii had been studying the weapons they’d captured, and pretty clearly they had the technology to understand what they’d seen. John’s own automatics were half a century in the future, but the gap was closing quickly. There had been Taliban still using the Brownings when he’d been in Afghanistan, with pretty deadly results.

The barn looked just as it had five years ago too, the kind of decrepit outbuilding that John had seen along the Arkansas highways not too far from his grandparents’ house thirty years ago, just a barn on a farm that nobody worked anymore, meadows left to go to seed with knee-high cedar trees. There was no reason to look inside. And if anyone did there was nothing to see except a broken down wagon minus three wheels and a pile of moldy hay.

One of the Genii soldiers scooped the hay aside with an impatient sweep, exposing the round hatch like the conning tower of a submarine. Just like Rodney had five years ago.

“After you, Colonel,” the Genii said.

“Don’t mind if I do.” John swung the P90 onto its sling to descend the ladder, a quick glance at Teyla showing that she was right where he wanted her to be, lagging back to let Carson go between them, looking deceptively small. The Genii tended to underestimate women, a facet of a pretty male dominated society that wasn’t lost on him. If it led them to underestimate Teyla, all the better. Her almost imperceptible nod told him she’d read his thoughts as clearly as if he’d spoken them. Five years of working together had rendered any original roughness smooth. Not that there had been much. They’d always been a good team.

At the bottom of the ladder a higher ranking officer was waiting for them. “Chief Radim is looking forward to speaking with you,” he said politely.

“Great,” John said, casting a glance back up the ladder. Carson was halfway down, Teyla silhouetted against the opening at the top. “We’re looking forward to talking to him.” He hoped that was sufficiently diplomatic. It had better be. God help Rodney if his life depended on John being diplomatic!

Ladon Radim’s official office was underground, the same one that Cowan had used on their first visit. It was spartan, and there was nothing personal in it, not one photograph or book that spoke of personality at all. There were no messages here, unless they were in the utilitarian lines of metal desk and chair. At least there were no messages John could read.

He glanced sideways at Teyla as they were motioned into the office. She looked attentive, not tense. Canary in a coal mine, John thought. Teyla was their canary, and he’d learned to watch her reactions carefully in a situation like this.

“Colonel Sheppard,” Ladon Radim stood up and came around his desk to shake hands.

“Chief Radim,” John replied. He’d had the opportunity more than once to punch his lights out, and could only regret he hadn’t done it. But. Rodney. He’d put up with a lot more than Ladon Radim to find out where Rodney was.

“And Dr. Beckett.” Radim greeted Carson with rather more warmth. “I would like to tell you personally how much I regret the incident with Sora. She has been dismissed from our military. She was under direct orders not to interfere with your medical missions, and as I’m sure you know the breach of direct orders is a serious offense. I regret tremendously that you were inconvenienced.”

“She’s a bit of a loose cannon,” Carson said, shaking his hand firmly. “I do not hold you responsible in the least.”

Which was rich, John thought. As of course anyone under his orders was his responsibility, loose cannon or not. But. Diplomacy.

“You remember Teyla Emmagan, I believe?” he said.

“I do.” Radim turned and offered his hand to her as well. “It’s good to see you again.”

“And to see you, Chief Radim,” Teyla said. “I am glad to see that you continue to enjoy good health.”

Radim laughed. “I’m sure that you are! For the moment our interests run in tandem, something of great advantage to us both.”

“And what advantage would that be?” John asked brusquely.

“We are both opposed to Queen Death,” Radim said, his eyebrows rising. “Obviously she’s a disaster for both of us, and for every human in this galaxy.”

“Aye, pretty much,” Carson agreed. “She’s trouble.”

“The most powerful Wraith Queen in…” he spread his hands. “Recorded history, certainly.” Radim motioned to the three metal visitors chairs before the desk. “Shall I have my aide bring you some tea?”

“That would be wonderful,” Teyla said, catching his eye.

“I love tea,” John said, and sat down.

A quarter of an hour passed in pleasantries and tea, mostly discussion of various kinds of tea and some speculation between Carson and Radim as to how the camellia sinesis plant had been transplanted to the Pegasus Galaxy, while Radim’s aides stood silent watch beside the door.

“Maybe the Ancients liked their cuppa,” Carson said, laughing. “It’s the only good reason I can think of.”

“I like mine,” Radim said, and his face sobered. “But you’ll be wondering why I’m wasting time talking about tea.”

“It had occurred to me,” John said bluntly.

Teyla cast him a warning glance. He usually had more patience, and he schooled himself to a pleasant smile, seeing the corner of Teyla’s mouth twitch as he did.

“We need each other,” Radim said. “Atlantis and the Genii, in both the long and short term.”

“Let’s talk about the short term,” John said.

Radim nodded. “You want information about where the Wraith have taken Dr. McKay, who has him, and where. You’d like me to bend my considerable intelligence network to that task, hundreds of agents on dozens of planets. You’d like me to retask my best men to find yours. It’s a risk of considerable resources, not the least of which are the lives of my men.”

“And so you want something considerable in return,” John said. “What?”

Radim leaned forward, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. “We need a pilot.”

“A pilot for what?” John asked. “You guys don’t have planes. Or maybe you do, in the developmental stages. Prop planes, maybe even double engine. But you don’t need me for that. Surely you’d rather develop your own cadre of pilots. And those kind of aircraft aren’t going to pose any threat to Wraith Darts. They’d be shot down in seconds.”

“Of course they would,” Radim agreed. “Building an air corps would be a tremendous waste of money and resources on something that would be no check on the Wraith. We need something considerably better.”

Teyla’s foot brushed against his left foot, stepping down gently. Wait, she said. Hold on and listen to him.

Radim took a deep breath, his blue eyes on John’s. “We’ve found an Ancient warship. It’s a wreck, badly damaged, but my engineers say it is salvageable. We want it. We want to repair it, and certainly we want to reverse engineer systems if possible. We’re not planning to spend a century developing flight, Colonel. We don’t have the leisure. We need ships that can challenge the Wraith.”

John nodded seriously. He ought to have expected something like this. “You know that’s not going to do it, don’t you? The Ancient technology is so advanced, so far ahead of both of us, that we can’t reproduce a quarter of what we see. Hell, we can’t reproduce the technology of a bunch of people in the Milky Way who were nowhere near as advanced as the Ancients! The first time we built a fighter based on reverse engineering the thing went haywire and nearly killed our test pilots. And that was based on a Goa’uld Death Glider, not an Ancient warship. This stuff isn’t easy.”

“We know.” Radim nodded. “But we must start somewhere. Do you think my people are any less resourceful than yours at trying to jump centuries of technology in a few years? It’s a leap we must all take if we’re going to defeat the Wraith.” He picked up his mug and took a long swallow of tea.

“What is your proposition?” Teyla asked. “We are certainly willing to consider it.”

“As I said, I need a pilot. I need a pilot with the ATA gene who has flown an Ancient warship. I need you to go to the planet where the wreck is, which my engineers assure me they have already substantially repaired, get the ship in the air, and bring it back here. That’s all.”

“That’s pretty straightforward,” John admitted. “If the thing will fly. I’ve flown an Ancient warship before, so…” He shrugged. “But I don’t think it’s going to do you guys much good, especially without pilots of your own with the ATA gene.”

“We have been working on that,” Radim said pleasantly. “As you know, the ATA gene is uncommon in this galaxy, but not unheard of. We will find our own pilots to train once we have the ship. But that’s not really your concern, Colonel. Your part of the bargain is just to bring it back here. When you bring us the warship, we’ll task our men with finding Dr. McKay.”

“It’s on a planet full of Wraith or something, isn’t it?” Carson asked.

Radim laughed. “No. It’s on an uninhabited world, one that’s too dry and unappealing to support human civilization anymore. Unfortunately, the crash site is a considerable distance from the Stargate, but with your ships that shouldn’t be much of an obstacle. A few minutes’ flight. While the Wraith doubtless know of the planet’s existence, since there are no humans there and the climate is inhospitable, there is no reason for them to be there or pay the planet any special attention.” He shrugged. “There are hundreds of worlds like it, essentially barren balls of rock with marginal atmosphere, of no use to anyone. Which is probably why the wreck has survived. If it had been on an inhabited world, it would have been scavenged long ago.”

“But if the Wraith show up,” Carson began.

“We’ve got a cloaked jumper,” John said. “And if we get there and the Wraith are all over the wreck the deal is off. We’ll come straight back.”

“If the deal is off, the deal is off.” Radim shrugged. “Obviously if you can’t get to the ship or get it in the air, we’ll have to come up with something else for you to trade for our intelligence networks.”

“Ok.” John nodded. “That’s fair. We’ll get on it. Give me the gate address.”

“Of course,” Radim said.

Teyla glanced at him sideways. “We will need to return to Atlantis first,” she said. “We do not have a scientist with us who is experienced with Ancient technology. We will return with Dr. Zelenka and…”

“I don’t think we need Zelenka,” John said.

“If the ship’s systems are in need of repairs,” Teyla began.

That was always Rodney’s job, putting things back together with duct tape and spit, complaining constantly that it would never work, it would never fly.

“We don’t need Zelenka,” John said.

Teyla’s eyes narrowed. “But if we need to make repairs…”

“I’m sure our Chief Scientist will be happy to assist you,” Radim said. “My sister, Dahlia Radim, will be accompanying you. She has been heading up our Ancient Technology Recovery program, and will be able to do whatever you need.”

“Great,” John said. “Then we’ll get going. The sooner the better.” He stood up. “Let’s get a move on, people.” Every moment they wasted talking Rodney was in Wraith hands.

They filed out of the office and through the halls, upstairs to the barn where the hatch led to the upper world. Radim left them at the bottom of the stairs. “Dahlia will be with you in a few moments,” he said.

John looked suspiciously after him.

Carson shrugged. “If it was a double cross there would be easier ways to do it. I think it’s on the up and up. So you’ll be flying the Ancient warship home and I’ll be flying the jumper?”

“Sounds good to me,” John said. He twitched as a bird outside burst into song. Hours. This whole diplomatic thing was taking hours. And it would take hours again to get this ship and get back, but that was probably the fastest way to get Radim on the case. At least what the Genii wanted was straightforward.

“I think we should go get Radek,” Teyla said quietly.

“That’s going to take a really long time,” John said. “Look, I’ll call in and tell Woolsey what’s up, but if we go back to Atlantis we’ll have meetings and debriefings and it will be half a day before we get on the road again. And either this thing will fly or it won’t. If it won’t, the deal’s off. And if it will, then we just do it. Radim isn’t going to send his sister to go get this thing if he didn’t think it would work.”

“That’s true enough,” Carson said. “I had her as a patient, if you remember. Lovely girl. He was worried sick about her. I’d say if Dahlia Radim is along he expects it to go smoothly.”

Teyla didn’t look convinced. “As you say, Colonel.”