"There's nothing we can do to close the connection from this end." Rodney studied the computer for any sign of a transmission. "If there aren't enough particles of sufficient mass coming through, the gate will shut down on its own before long. If there is something coming through, our old acquaintance, the thirty-eight-minute clause, comes into effect."
Seemingly grasping at straws, Sheppard activated his com. "Hey, if anyone can hear me out there, this is not freaking funny. State your business or let us have our damned gate back!"
Nothing.
Rodney watched the undulating blue surface and did his best to resist the urge to yell at someone.
The leader of the raiders-Ronon hadn't caught his name-jerked his head toward the guy with the pack. Odd that the scrawniest one among them carried the load. Maybe he was their version of McKay, brought along for his brains.
Little Guy shuffled forward and lowered his pack to the ground. Carefully he lifted out an awkward tangle of metal, conduits, and crystals. The contraption had familiar symbol buttons, but it looked as though it had been cobbled together from spare parts.
"That's your dialer?" Ronon eyed it with distrust.
He'd heard the leader give a name, hadn't he? Something with an S. Maybe. S-Man bristled. "It functions. In your position, I'd be grateful for that."
"It functions only because you pay me to keep it that way," groused Little Guy. "In spite of your increasing demands on both it and me."
Definitely their version of McKay.
Sinking to one knee, Ronon studied the dialing device. Teyla crouched beside him, her displeasure evident. They didn't have any better options. The dialer obviously worked well enough, or these guys wouldn't be there.
Of course, there was another problem, one that had slipped his mind until now. "We can't take the ship," Ronon stated. "It'll attract too much attention in the city."
S-Man clearly wasn't happy with that idea. "What kind of defenses should we expect?"
"Nothing to speak of." Ronon mentally pushed off the ache forming behind his eyes. He had to make this sound good, and sounding good wasn't his strong suit even when he didn't feel like his head had been run through a grinder. "The people in the city are scientists, surrounded by more Ancestor technology than they can use -more than you could ever hope to sell. That ship isn't of the Ancestors, and they'll notice it a lot faster than they'll notice your guns."
"So you say." S-Man scrutinized Ronon for a few seconds, likely waiting to see if the other man would flinch. There was a reason, though, that the Marines had stopped inviting Ronon to their poker games. Staring was far easier than talking.
In the end, avarice probably influenced the decision more than anything he'd said. S-Man turned to two of his cronies. "Stay here with the dialer. Wait for us to go through, then take the ship back and wait for us."
Ronon wondered where `back' was.
He reached for the first symbol and paused. Little Guy remained uncomfortably close, watching his every move. "Back off," Ronon growled.
Startled, the man skittered sideways before recovering his self-control and placing both hands on his hips. "I'm supposed to trust you not to sabotage the dialer?"
"What purpose would that serve?" Teyla asked, her temper quicker than usual.
Ronon glanced up at S-Man. "Showing you the address wasn't part of the agreement," he maintained. "You only get one trip. One's all you'll need to make this worth your while. If you don't trust us, don't follow us through the gate."
"Sekal," complained Little Guy. Right. Sekal. That was it.
After a moment of consideration, Sekal told his underling, "You're paranoid. Let `em dial."
Satisfied that none of the raiders had a good line of sight to the symbols, Ronon entered the address for Atlantis. The pitiful dialer flickered and whirred, and the gate came to life. He watched the initial outburst of the wormhole vaporize the few stubborn blades of grass that had attempted to grow in the danger zone directly in front of the oddly-angled ring.
Two of the raiders immediately started toward the event horizon. "Wait," called Ronon. Maybe he'd forgotten to explain this part. "We have to send a code first. The gate's shielded on the other end."
Teyla's hand went to her GDO, or rather where her GDO should have been. Bastard raiders must have taken it after they'd stunned everyone. Fortunately, they must not have been quite as excited about searching Ronon. He reached into his coat and withdrew the small item.
"Get on with it," Little Guy said impatiently.
Be glad to. Ronon was exhausted and achy and wanted to be back on Atlantis more strongly than ever. He started to tap in the code, only to have his wrist grabbed by Teyla. Bewildered, he went to speak, but she leaned in and whispered urgently, "That is not correct."
"Sure it is," he muttered back. "It's the...the transponder code."
The word `transponder' meant nothing to either of them. It was, however, the term Sheppard had used to describe this particular set of ciphers-and the only term unlikely to arouse suspicion among the raiders.
"On Earth, aircraft use transponder codes to identify themselves to controllers on the ground or to other aircraft. There are certain numbers that are only used in emergency situations. If you squawk 7500 instead of your assigned code, it means your craft's been hacked; 7600 means you've lost communications; 7700 is a general mayday call. These IDCs will be our version of the seventhousand series. "
Most of the Marines called them dummy codes, because in essence they were false. The dummy codes were common to all off-world teams. As with the transponder numbers, there were three separate codes. The first was used only in connection with a radio call and told Atlantis that the conversation was being monitored by `unfriendlier.' The remaining two related to the gate shield and required no radio call: one signified a request to lower the shield, the other a request to keep it active.
Ronon had no wish to be pulverized, so he planned to tell Atlantis to drop the shield. But Teyla was shaking her head as she studied the set of numbers he'd begun to send.
"That is the wrong shield code." She took the GDO from his hand and changed the numbers.
"I know which one is which," he insisted. Tired though he might be, he'd committed the codes to memory long ago.
"Then it is your intent to leave the shield in place?"
"No! I'm getting it shut down." Ronon reached for the small transmitter. Once he'd seized it back, his certainty wavered. Could he have mistakenly swapped the codes? It was becoming harder and harder to think straight, and he just couldn't be sure.
Teyla captured his gaze. Her eyes looked clouded, almost fevered. "I am no less capable of error than you," she said. "Especially now. I am having difficulty... seeing the situation accurately."
"Me too," he admitted, scrubbing at his face in an attempt to restore some energy and clarity of thought.
"Even so, I believe this code is right. I ask for your trust."
"What's going on?" the lead raider demanded. "You send the code yet, or what?"
It felt like only a momentary hesitation. Apparently it was enough to raise an alarm with the raiders, because two of them moved toward Teyla and seized her arms. She struggled for a brief time before a third raider aimed a weapon at her head.
"Stop stalling," the leader warned. "I've got no reason other than a business deal to keep you alive."
Ronon's glance shifted between his teammate and the transmitter in his hand. He had no clues to go on, no way to assure himself that either code was correct. All he knew was that Teyla had asked for his trust, and that was the one thing for which she should never have to ask.
He pressed the button to submit her code. "It's done," he said matter-of-factly. "Let's go."
The men detaining Teyla released her arms and shoved her forward. "You two first," instructed the leader.
Ronon raised an eyebrow and put up a token protest. "You think we'd risk dialing empty space on the chance that we'd get a shot at pushing all of you throug
h?"
The leader shrugged. "A pioneering spirit may be admirable, but it can also be quite the health risk. We're not going anywhere you're not willing to go first."
It was best that way, for a number of reasons. In any case, if Ronon had guessed wrong on the code, they wouldn't even have time to comprehend the mistake before their lives were snuffed out.
Together, Ronon and Teyla approached the gate, canted toward them as if daring them to enter. Exchanging a final, wordless glance, they climbed through the event horizon.
CHAPTER TWELVE
my a few seconds had passed since the gate had activated, and already John wondered if it might be possible to manually cut power to the system. This waiting game was going nowhere, and it only intensified his frustration over his teammates' uncertain status. If you d just sent the damned MALP right at the start...
"Receiving IDC," Rodney announced suddenly.
Without realizing it, John had drifted to the railing. Now he turned back toward the dialing console. "We don't have anyone off-world other than Elizabeth's group and the Jumper Three team." Except Teyla and Ronon- but that wasn't a thought he could voice.
Rodney's face went slack as he looked up from the screen. "It's a dummy code."
John was at the computer in three strides. He identified the number set instantly. "Everybody out of the control room now. Stand by for incoming unknowns!" he warned the security team pouring into the gate-room. Training alone must have driven his reaction, because instinct was shouting What the hell?
The control room cleared briskly. As soon as the Marines had taken up their defensive positions, John reached down to lower the shield.
He watched the energy field wink out and waited. Again.
Abruptly, two figures tumbled through the gate. When John recognized them, some small piece of his soul was renewed.
Ronon and Teyla rolled to the side, out of the security team's line of fire. The Satedan leaned up on one elbow. "Six behind us. Stun `em all!"
"Do it!" John yelled the order down to the Marines.
The next arrivals lost their footing as well, giving the Marines a prime opportunity to target them. His sidearm in his hand out of sheer habit, John made himself hang back and let his people work.
Stun blasts lit up the gate-room. By the time the wormhole finally shut down, six men lay in front of the gate, some sprawled on top of each other. "Secure, sir," Sergeant Young called, directing his team to restrain each intruder.
Ronon picked himself up from the floor and offered a hand to Teyla. John closed his eyes for a moment, the sight of his friends alive and whole almost too much to take in. He'd do whatever was required of him from here on out- gladly-but right now he justneeded half a second.
"Incredible," murmured Rodney.
Opening his eyes, John turned to see the chief science officer rising from a crouch behind a console. He shot Rodney a critical look. "Huh. I thought I heard someone say to clear the control room. In fact, I'm pretty sure that was me.
Rodney could go from zero to defensive faster than any human in existence. "What? Ducking is like clearing.,,
Shaking his head, John hurried out of the control room and down the stairs as fast as he could manage without tripping over his boots.
Both Teyla and Ronon looked battered and a bit dazed, but there was no hiding their relief. John could relate. He opened his mouth before his brain could come up with anything to say, and so he stood there gawking like an idiot until rallying with "God, where were you guys?"
"Stranded on a planet with no dialing device," replied Teyla, mustering a weak smile. "You can imagine our thankfulness for arriving safely here."
"I think there's enough gratitude to go around." All of a sudden he found himself touching his forehead to hers in the customary Athosian manner. If her grip on his banged-up arm was a little too strong, he couldn't have cared less.
Ronon's priorities were still in order; he'd stepped over a couple of unconscious intruders in order to retrieve his gun from one of them.
Rodney joined the group then, having taken the stairs with more caution than John had, and peered down at the new prisoners. "Those are the raiders-"
"From PM-418. Yes." Teyla tossed the men a look of contempt. The effect was muted by the dark circles under her eyes.
"Okay. Interesting." Processing that, Rodney frowned. "Did you say planet? You weren't on the orbital station?"
"Station?" Re-holstering his weapon, Ronon stared blankly back at him.
"We, uh, thought you'd gotten bounced through 418's space gate." It felt silly now, with the two of them standing there relatively unscathed, but John's throat tightened all the same. "That's why we didn't send a MALP or anything after you. We thought..."
He was saved from finishing the sentence by Teyla's hand on his wrist. "The planet's gate was angled. That is why we stumbled on our arrival here. A MALP likely would have fallen on its side, broken or at least immobile."
Not even ten minutes home after a mission from hell, and already she was trying to reassure him. John appreciated the effort, but it didn't soften the recriminations in his mind.
"Can we stay on topic, please?" Rodney's hands seemed to fly in six different directions at once. "I saw the transit data-you were sent to the orbital gate, which we now know is enclosed in a structure. How did you not end up there?"
"How should we know?" Ronon's gaze kept darting from the raiders to the gate and back, as if still trying to put some pieces together in his head. "The gate was stuck between two rock faces, with wreckage all around." Dragging out that recollection seemed to be difficult for him. "Maybe it was damaged."
The pinched expression Rodney tended to get while solving the mysteries of the universe swiftly cleared. "The battle," he realized. "The records said the orbital gate was damaged in the battle. The station was knocked around so badly that its orbit destabilized, and the whole thing plummeted through the planet's atmosphere!"
"Most things get pretty well toasted when that happens," John contributed.
"Not naquadah. It's about as heat-resistant as a material gets. The Stargate would remain intact wherever it fell, while everything around it would have disintegrated on reentry." Rodney's voice warmed in utter amazement.
"It never occurred to me to have the recovery team scan the surface when they went orbital to search for your bod-ah, transmitters. You two were on 418 all along."
Teyla looked like she didn't quite comprehend how that could be true. "The hunters who befriended us," she said to Ronon, uncertain.
"Hunters?" John got a flash of memory from the negotiations-something Galven had said. "Could they have been Nistra?"
Rodney sobered quickly at that. "Were you in the mountains?"
It should have been a simple question, but Teyla seemed to have trouble forming an answer. "Mostly the foothills," she said finally.
"Ah. That would explain why you're both a little..." Rodney fluttered his fingers in a vague gesture that might have implied a mental disorder. Ronon sent him a withering glare.
A moment later, John caught up to Rodney's reasoning, and everything clicked. "Take our guests down to the holding cells," he instructed Sergeant Young before turning to the rest of his team. "Let's pay a visit to the infirmary."
Amazing how fast the mood of the city could change. Word of Ronon and Teyla's near-miraculous return had spread so efficiently and elatedly that making an announcement would have been redundant. Nevertheless, John had taken great pleasure in dialing 418-the original 418 gate-and informing Elizabeth that their people were home. From the tone of her response, he got the feeling that only diplomatic etiquette had prevented her from hugging the hell out of the nearest person.
She did, however, report that the treaty talks were starting to collapse. Minister Galven hadn't warmed up to the idea of relinquishing control of the mines, and so far they'd failed to convince him that adarite was in fact harmful. Governor Cestan, in turn, seemed to be interpreting Galven's unyield
ing resistance as a provocation. Both had threatened to post guards around the Hall, and access to the gate had somehow sprung up as an additional point of contention. Elizabeth expressed a belief that she could keep the two leaders at the negotiating table for another day or so. The more John and Rodney could learn about the second gate and the raiders, she told them, the better chance she'd have of staving off a war.
John was more than willing to oblige.
He found Ronon in the mess hall, the first place the Satedan had gone after leaving the infirmary. The medical scans had shown evidence of exposure to a high concentration of adarite, confirming that Teyla and Ronon had indeed been in the mining region of P7L-418. Within an hour, both had displayed marked improvement on basic memory tests and had been turned loose.
When Teyla had requested a brief trip over to the mainland to reunite with her people, she'd looked surprised that John had assigned someone else to fly her there. He hadn't explained that it would be a while before he could look any of the Athosians in the eye after having written off their leader's life. Instead, he'd told her that he was needed for another task. It hadn't even been a lie.
Grabbing a sandwich off the lunch line, John spotted Ronon at a corner table. He ambled over, not surprised to see a stack of emptied plates on the tray. "Hey," he greeted, spinning the nearest chair a half-turn and straddling it backward. "How's your head?"
"Better." Ronon swallowed a bite of some kind of mystery meat before continuing. "Still not too clear on a lot of what happened on the planet."
"The does said some of those memories won't ever show up, because they're not really anywhere in your head to find." John draped his arms over the back of the chair, his posture far more casual than his next question. "Want to go chat with our guests and maybe fill in a few blanks?"
The fork stopped midway to Ronon's mouth as an expression of malevolent interest came into his eyes. Without a word he rose from the table and picked up his tray. John shoved his still-wrapped sandwich into a jacket pocket, and the pair headed for the detention area.
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