He turned at the sound of a step behind him, automatically moving to put a row of seats between himself and anyone who might try to tip him over the balcony’s edge, and relaxed as he recognized his senior aide. “Ambrus.”
“Chief.” Ambrus was politely blind to his caution. “The Chief Scientist is here, and wondered if she might have a word before you met with the generals.”
“Of course.” One of the reasons he had promoted Ambrus, Ladon thought, as he followed the aide through the maze of side corridors that led back to his office, was that he always remembered to give Dahlia her title, and never referred to her as “your sister.”
They entered the office by the hidden door that gave directly onto the room he used for real work. Dahlia swung to face them as the door opened, one hand in her pocket, but relaxed as soon as she saw Ambrus. “I took the liberty of making tea.”
“Lovely,” Ladon said, and dropped into his usual chair. Ambrus poured for all of them, and then retreated to a corner, ready to be summoned. “Is everything all right?”
“Just a report from the Pride that I thought you should see before we met with the generals,” Dahlia answered.
“Oh?” Ladon tensed. The last thing they needed was for something to go wrong with the Pride on her maiden voyage.
“No, no, it’s good news. Our allies on Varda received the Pride with open arms — we have footage of the celebrations, if you want to share it — and they’ve offered to share their Ancient research with us.”
“As long as we share the Pride’s secrets with them?” Ladon asked, and was rewarded with a smile.
“That’s their first request. Captain Bartolan quite rightly referred the question to us at the Sciences, but I think it’s worth doing some follow up.”
“Do they have anything worth trading for?”
“They might. There are several Ancient sites on Varda, and our agents have never gotten access to any of them. Besides —“ Dahlia lowered her voice, even though there was no one to hear but Ladon and Ambrus. “At some point, we are going to have to share some of our knowledge with our allies. We can’t put them off forever, not if we want to keep them on our side.”
“And there’s nothing they can do with Ancient technology if they don’t have the gene.” Ladon leaned back in his chair.
“We can’t keep that advantage forever,” Dahlia said. “If we don’t share, eventually the Lanteans will.”
“They wouldn’t give up their advantage,” Ladon began, and stopped, shaking his head. “All right, they might. I can’t always tell what they think they’re doing.”
“Being allies, at the moment,” Dahlia reminded him, and Ladon grinned.
“Which is why I invited them. I want them to see that we’re worth cultivating.”
“I think we can give you that,” Dahlia said.
In the corner, Ambrus cleared his throat. “Excuse me, Chief, but it’s almost time for your meeting.”
Ladon glanced at the clock in the corner and grimaced. “All right. Dahlia, you’ll attend?”
“If you want me,” she answered, and he nodded.
“I wouldn’t do it without you.”
The meeting had been scheduled for one of the new upper rooms of the complex, where a ring of windows below the domed ceiling let in natural sunlight and brief glimpses of blue sky. The four generals rose to their feet as Ladon entered; he waved for them to return to their seats, and took his place at the head of the table, scanning the room as he did. General Dolos had been in the room before, and was managing to ignore the dome, but both Balas and Tivador were having to make a visible effort to keep from looking at it. Only Karsci was staring openly, and he looked down as Ladon seated himself.
“Very impressive, Chief, but it seems a bit vulnerable.”
Ladon allowed himself a thin smile. “As our bargain with the Lanteans seems to be holding, I think we can take the risk.” He didn’t need to say that there were now satellites in orbit that should — would! — give warning of any approaching Wraith ship, or that they were still well underground, with plenty of tunnels to retreat to in the event of an attack. But then, Balas, at least, was of the generation that spent most of its life underground, emerging only to fight; Dolos and Tivador were both his own contemporaries, but Tivador had spent most of his career in the mountains, defending the installations there. Only Karsci had spent much time on other worlds, and he met Ladon’s eyes with a smile that said he knew exactly what Ladon was trying to do. Ladon smiled back, and motioned for Ambrus to distribute the day’s agenda.
“Generals. As I’m sure some of you are already aware, the Pride of the Genii continues to fulfill her mission as anticipated. I’ll ask the Chief of Sciences to outline her progress.”
He leaned forward as Dahlia rose to her feet, touching the wall-mounted display to bring the Pride’s projected course into view, watching to see if any of the generals reacted to his insinuation that they had spies in the Science Services. Perhaps Karsci’s smile widened slightly, but he could see no other reaction. Not that he had expected much: anyone with any ambitions learned early how to keep a straight face under much greater provocation.
“The Pride is currently on course for Teos,” Dahlia finished. “She is scheduled to spend two days there, exchanging official greetings and also trading for fresh food to replenish their stores. That’s not strictly necessary, of course, but it was decided it would be good for morale and also a gesture of trust toward the Teosians.”
“Who have not always been our most reliable allies,” Balas said. “Was it wise to trust them that far — assuming the Pride is landing there?”
“It is landing,” Dahlia said, her voice tranquil, “and as for the other, the Council agreed that we wanted to reopen relations with the Teosians. That’s not a matter for Sciences.”
“We did vote on it,” Dolos said.
“In any case,” Dahlia said, “the Pride has more than sufficient weaponry on board to handle anything the Teosians could throw at it.”
“Which was why we all agreed it was unlikely they’d try,” Karsci said. “I’m more concerned about how this gene therapy is holding up.”
“No problems have been reported,” Dahlia said. “Both the ship and the crew seem to be functioning smoothly.”
The questions continued, and Ladon allowed himself to relax, watching the generals as they jockeyed for position. Dolos was an old ally, from the coup that had overthrown Cowen, but the others either had factions of their own or had been allied with his enemies. Balas had been Cowen’s man, and Tivador had only broken with Kolya when it was clear that Kolya was doomed. Karsci had been a leader of off-world raiding teams before Cowen had made him commandant of the southern field stations, and the combination had given him a solid power base among the military. Ladon’s own base was bigger than any of theirs, but if they were to make common cause against him — but that was why they were part of the government, why he kept them close at hand. He had no intention of making it easy for any of them to betray him.
~#~
The General Hammond landed before dawn, settling neatly onto the landing pad under the glare of the lights, a few wisps of steam rising from the warmer parts of the hull. This was what passed for spring on Atlantis’s new home, but the ground crew that hurried to make everything secure still wore heavy parkas and thick gloves. John watched from the control room, the first line of dawn kissing the horizon at his back, and turned when Banks lifted her head.
“Colonel Carter, sir.”
“Put her through.” John shifted so that he was in camera range, and didn’t bother to hide his grin as the screen lit to reveal Samantha Carter’s familiar face. “Colonel! Welcome back to Atlantis.”
“Thank you, Colonel.”
She was looking older, John thought. Not in a bad way, exactly — in fact, if he had to say, he’d have to admit that commanding the Hammond suited her. There were shadows under her eyes, and her hair seemed darker, pulled back in a severe braid,
but there was a deep content about her the he couldn’t help but envy. She wouldn’t have the Hammond forever, no one could, but for now she was a woman in the perfect place at the precise moment, and clearly knew it. “You’re here in time for breakfast — we’ve opened up the mess hall a little early to accommodate your people, and there are unlimited fresh water showers in the locker rooms. Tell your people to make themselves at home.”
“I’ll do that, and thank you,” Carter answered. “We have supplies for you. I’m not sure that it’s everything you requested, but I’ll be glad to get it out of my corridors.”
“Sergeant Pollard is standing by,” John said. “And if you’d care to join me for breakfast, we can go over the rest of the lists.”
“More like brunch for me,” Carter said, “but yeah. Thanks.”
That solved one tricky piece of protocol, John thought, as he made his way through the corridors to meet her on the mess hall level. She still ranked him, but he was supposed to make her defer to him in his role as acting commander of Atlantis. He was getting better at this sort of thing, he thought, and lifted his hand in salute.
“Colonel.”
“Colonel Sheppard.” Carter returned his salute, and then they clasped hands, grinning.
“What’s the news from home?” John couldn’t keep the edge from his voice, and she quickly shook her head.
“Nothing new about Atlantis. Last I heard, they were still arguing over candidates, never mind picking anyone to take command here. You’re in charge for the foreseeable future, John.”
“About that…” John let his voice trail off.
Carter gave him a wary glance, but let him steer her to the mess line. Pollard’s crew had done them proud, John saw. Grits and oatmeal, bacon and sausage in steaming trays, the fried prassivish root that made a very decent substitute for fried potatoes, scones from local flour, scrambled eggs, and even a tray of eggs Benedict, each one topped with three tiny pinkish welza eggs. Carter lifted her eyebrows at that.
“You’re living well these days.”
“Sergeant Pollard has been doing a great job supplementing our rations,” John answered, and knew he sounded smug. “We’ve found some new trading partners since you were last here.”
“Is that real Hollandaise?” Carter asked, and the young woman tending the eggs gave an embarrassed grin.
“Real from a mix, ma’am.”
“It’s good,” John said. “We only get it on special occasions.”
“Then I’ll definitely have some,” Carter said, with a smile for the airman, and moved on down the line.
By the time they had filled their plates, the sky had lightened to a definite blue and the eastern horizon glowed with the coming dawn. By mutual agreement, they chose a table where they could watch the sunrise, and Carter leaned her elbows on the table, both hands wrapped around her mug of coffee, eyes slitted against the rising light.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful Atlantis is.”
“Yeah.” The limb of the sun broke the distant horizon, streaks of sunlight spreading across the water. Halfway to the zenith, a scattering of clouds flushed pink and orange, and John cleared his throat. “It’s warmer than where we originally landed. We’re almost exactly on the equator now.”
“That’s got to be an improvement.” Carter poked one of the welza eggs, and frowned curiously as the salmon-colored yolk spilled out. She took a little on the tines of her fork, tasted it, and gave a nod of approval.
“I told you they were good.”
Carter nodded, her mouth full. “Delicious.” She swallowed, and lowered her voice. “All right, John, what’s going on?”
John bit his lip. “We’ve had an invitation from Ladon Radim.”
“That’s never good. What do the Genii want this time?”
“He says he just wants us to attend some big holiday of theirs — Foundation Day. To cement our alliance or some crap like that. Lorne’s going, along with some of the people who fought on Avenger against Queen Death’s fleet. And I should go, except I don’t have anyone I can safely leave in command. The IOA won’t stand for McKay.”
“They’re still worried about his having been a Wraith?” Carter waved a hand. “Sorry. Stupid question.”
“It’s the IOA,” John said. “Which also rules out Elizabeth.”
“For having been Ascended?” Carter looked skeptical.
“And for having been taken over by the Replicators,” John said. “Even though being un-Ascended got her a whole new nanite-free body. Zelenka’s got a big project on his agenda right now, and Major Casey only came out from Earth two months ago. I was hoping you might be willing to stand in for me while we were on the Genii homeworld.”
“It really ought to be Zelenka,” Carter said. “Whether he wants it or not.”
“He doesn’t, and he’s really busy,” John answered. “And besides, the Genii respect military authority a lot more than they do civilians. Also, they saw the Hammond in action, and knowing you’re here with it seems like a good way to make sure Ladon keeps his word.”
“You’ve got a point,” Carter said. “How long is this shindig?”
“We’ll be gone thirty-six hours. You won’t even notice.”
“I didn’t say I’d do it.”
John froze, biting his lip to keep from saying anything, and Carter grinned.
“No, it makes good sense. All right, Colonel, I’ll handle things while you’re gone.”
John felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a worry he hadn’t known was there until it had vanished. “Thanks, Colonel.”
“Make sure I don’t regret it,” Carter said, and turned her attention back to her breakfast.
CHAPTER TWO
MAJOR EVAN LORNE brought the puddle jumper neatly through the Stargate, out into the bright morning sunlight of the Genii homeworld. An escort was drawn up in the clearing, a dozen men in Genii uniforms, four trucks in a neat line behind them. They had the look of old-fashioned American cars, so that for an instant Lorne could almost imagine he was in a newsreel from his grandparents’ day, and then the shortest of the Genii stepped forward, lifting a hand in greeting.
“There’s Radim,” Sheppard said, not sounding entirely happy about it. “Go ahead and set us down.”
“Yes, sir.” Lorne slowed the jumper, then set it down neatly onto the grass a dozen yards shy of the waiting Genii. “Are we going to leave the jumper here?”
Sheppard bit his lip. “I don’t think they’re going to give us much choice.” He glanced over his shoulder, raising his voice to be sure that the others seated in the back of the jumper could hear him, too. “But, remember, this is a friendly diplomatic mission. The Genii are celebrating a holiday.”
“Aye, so you’ve said,” Carson Beckett grumbled, softly enough that Sheppard could pretend he hadn’t heard. He was the only civilian on board, the crew jacket with its St. Andrew’s Cross a sharp contrast with the uniforms. “I’d give a great deal to know what they’re remembering.”
So would I, Lorne thought, but answered Sheppard. “Yes, sir. And, just to be sure, I’ll put on the cloak once we leave the jumper.”
“Just what I would have suggested, Major,” Sheppard said. “The rest of you, be ready if we call.”
“Yes, sir.” That was Lieutenant Singh, fresh out from Earth, but with a natural ATA gene and a couple of years piloting Ancient equipment back in the Milky Way. If they needed rescue, Lorne thought, Singh seemed up to the job.
They marched off the jumper in formal order, the Marines forming up opposite the line of Genii while Lorne and Beckett advanced at Sheppard’s side to greet the Chief of the Genii. Ladon Radim was as dapper as ever, bareheaded, with his neat dark beard recently trimmed; his drab olive uniform was so sharply pressed you could practically cut yourself on the creases, Lorne thought, but he was surprised to see only a handful of decorations. Several of the other officers had more, or at least more elaborate ones, and once again Lorne found himself reluctantly admirin
g the Genii leader. He hadn’t forgiven Radim for kidnapping him and his men, but after the battle against Queen Death, he’d had to admit he respected the man.
“Welcome to our world, Colonel, Major. And Doctor Beckett.” Radim’s smile widened as his gaze swept over the Marine escort. “I’m pleased to see that some of those who fought on board the Pride were able to return to celebrate her latest achievement.”
“We’re glad to be here, too,” Sheppard said. “Also — we appreciate the ride, but we wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble. We can always take the jumper wherever we’re going.”
“That might be difficult,” Radim answered, “considering that much of our capital city is still underground. And of course, it would be personally risky: our people tend to shoot at any incoming aircraft rather than asking questions.”
“It’s kind of hard to confuse a jumper with Wraith Dart,” Sheppard said.
“Years of conflict have made our people very… cautious,” Radim said. “I would hate for there to be any mistakes.”
“So would we all.” Sheppard looked at Lorne. “Ok, Major, you can put on the parking brake.”
“Yes, sir,” Lorne said. He slipped his hand into his pocket, working the remote control that triggered the cloak, and the jumper vanished.
Radim’s smile didn’t waver. “This way, gentlemen, if you please.”
The trucks were more comfortable than Lorne had expected, with padded benches and grab straps, and their suspension was up to the challenges of the unpaved roads. Through gaps in the swaying curtains, he caught glimpses of tall pines, and then rolling grassland broken here and there by well-tended fields. From the height of the crops, he guessed this had to be the Genii summer, though the air was only pleasantly warm. Beckett had pushed the nearest curtain aside, and was frankly staring; Lorne saw their Genii escort exchange grins, but they made no move to stop him. That had to be a good sign, Lorne thought, proof this was in fact a friendly visit.
Stargate Atlantis #24 Page 3