Casualties of War

by Elizabeth Christensen

  The six raiders had been given separate cells, not for their comfort but to preclude any of them from conspiring to escape. At the entry corridor, John nodded to the Marines on guard duty and asked Ronon, "Did these guys have a ringleader?"

  In response, Ronon walked down the hall, looking into each doorway until he found who he was looking for. When he did, he stalked inside, prompting John to lengthen his stride to catch up.

  It had been a while since the city's holding cells had gotten any use. Their current occupants didn't look like the physical type, so the force fields hadn't been turned on. Of course, that could change pretty rapidly if the need arose. The lead raider sat slouched against one side of his cell, greasy reddish hair falling into his eyes. He glanced up at Ronon with grudging admiration. "I have to admit, you played this well."

  Ronon stood in front of the bars, arms folded, saying nothing.

  "You want to be the good cop or the bad cop?" John asked his teammate. The look of skepticism he received in reply spoke volumes. He heaved a slightly exaggerated sigh. "Man, I'm always the good cop."

  When it came to Earth references, Ronon had benefited greatly from Atlantis's movie nights. "Who says we need a good cop?"

  "It's more for the entertainment factor than anything else." John strolled around the perimeter of the cell and addressed the raider. "We haven't met. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. You folks have been causing me and my friends trouble on a bunch of different levels lately. You got a name?" The lack of response didn't faze him. "It's no problem if you don't-I've made something of a hobby out of hanging names on the residents of these cells. I'm thinking about going back to `Steve,' since the original Steve didn't last too long."

  "Sekal," the man muttered, shooting a dark glance at Ronon. "As I'm sure your companion has told you."

  "Oh, don't worry about him. Ronon's a big softie. Although you did kind of blow your shot at making a decent first or second impression on him." John dug the sandwich out of his pocket and took a bite, making Sekal wait and watch. Food hadn't been on the agenda for the prisoners just yet. "Sekal, you're obviously a businessman, so I'll offer you a business deal. Information in exchange for the release of yourself and your men. The deal is contingent on me liking what I hear. If I don't, you'll find a way to make amends, or Ronon will prob ably get cranky."

  Looking from John to a glowering Ronon and back, Sekal lifted his chin. "Ask your questions."

  "All right, first question. Who the hell are you jokers?"

  Either Sekal was worried enough about his welfare to talk, or he just didn't care about hiding anything. Might have been a combination of the two. "We are of the Cadre."

  "The Cadre? I was hoping for some kind of cool piratetype name. What's the Cadre?"

  "We are part of a trade organization that operates in shadow on a number of worlds. We're salvagers, if you prefer. Artifacts of the Ancestors are usually the most lucrative items, but whatever is desired can be procured for the right price."

  "Black market. Imagine my surprise. How many people are in this Cadre?"

  "More than I personally know." The raider's eyebrow lifted. "Certainly more than you have locked up here."

  John walked around to the front of the cell. He needed to see the man's face when he asked this next question. "Are you allied in any way with the Nistra or the Falnori?"

  Sekal scoffed. "Those simpletons? We have free rein of their planet. What profit would there be in an alliance?"

  The response seemed candid enough. A glance at Ronon told John that their thoughts ran along the same lines. Like they'd suspected, the Falnori and Nistra had built a major aspect of their conflict on baseless assumptions.

  "How long have you been stealing from that planet?" John asked.

  "Off and on for some years. The ruins near their main gate are a rich source of artifacts. Our first visit alone netted us enough to buy our ship."

  "That reminds me." John cocked his head toward Ronon. "Nice work getting them to leave that behind."

  Ronon smirked. Looking sullen, Sekal slouched further.

  "You're not taking just artifacts, though," pressed John. "You've branched out into swiping adarite from the miners.

  "The ore?" Sekal shrugged. "A market for it developed after we sold some devices that run on the stuff."

  "Uh huh. Would it surprise you if I said that adarite has dangerous effects?" Watching for a reaction, John took another bite of his sandwich before continuing. "Exposure to it messes with minds in a big way. After a while you'd be pretty much incapacitated, and you wouldn't even know why."

  The raider's reply was indifferent. "We never hold onto the ore for long. Once payment's been received, I don't know or care what anyone does with it."

  Nice. "That's a beautiful sentiment. Really. I'm all choked up." John did another slow lap around the outside of the cell, forcing Sekal to twist around to keep him in view. "How did you find the second gate on the planet?"

  "We stumbled upon it some time ago during a visit but found that it had no dialing device. Fortunately, some of our business associates in another system were able to aid us in procuring something suitable for the purpose." Sekal smiled, clearly trying to hold onto a semblance of leverage through attitude alone. "Once we confirmed the manner in which two gates operate under the same address, we could use our device to override the planet's main dialer. The additional gate became a great asset. The miners certainly haven't figured out our methods. I don't think many of them have even recognized the fact that there's a large ring under all the plant growth in those ruins.

  "They're pretty aware of being robbed blind," John pointed out, dropping the wry humor from his tone. His patience had limits, and Ronon's posture suggested that this was getting old even faster for him. "Do you have any idea what kind of rift you've opened up on that planet? The Falnori are convinced that it's the Nistra who've been raiding them, and vice versa. They're about to go to war over your actions."

  Seeing that his captors were getting rattled, Sekal seemed to gain confidence. "We're not responsible," he replied airily, "for the misconceptions of the foolish."

  With a growl, Ronon slammed both hands into the bars separating him from the prisoner. When he reached for the cell's locking mechanism, John had to intercede, hurrying over to grab his teammate's shoulder. "Hey! No beat-downs. Even if he is scum."

  "They're not foolish," Ronon snarled at Sekal, who'd managed to fold himself into a compact package in a corner of the cell. "They're kind and honorable people. Unlike yours-loyal to nothing except your own fortunes."

  If nothing else, John had to give the raider credit for guts. Recovering somewhat, Sekal remarked, "We've found it to be the most beneficial ideology around."

  "Where are you based?" Ronon demanded. "What planet?"

  Sekal stretched his legs out in front of him and regarded them coolly. In place of an answer, he said, "I could be persuaded to convince the rest of the Cadre to leave your friends the Nistra and Falnori alone. I have little doubt that this city of yours contains enough wealth to pay the fee."

  John had seen The Godfather plenty of times and recognized a protection racket when he saw one. After pretending to consider the offer for approximately half a second, he turned to Ronon. "I changed my mind. Have fun.

  The gasp from inside as he unlocked the cell shouldn't have been satisfying, but it was.

  Before Ronon could advance, a voice from the corridor halted them. "Ronon, Colonel." Teyla entered the room, taking in the cowering Sekal and her teammates with raised eyebrows.

  "You're back," John greeted her. "Ronon was in the process of scaring the crap out of this guy. Right, buddy?"

  Ronon paused, stepped back from the cell's entrance, and relocked the door. "Right."

  "I approve. He deserves that and more." Teyla's gaze remained steady. "Since he may still prove useful later, though, I wanted to make sure that someone was here to fill the role of the `good cop."'

  John thought about object
ing to her implication. He decided against it when he couldn't be sure at what point he would have stopped Ronon from attacking this time around. "All right, we've got things to discuss. Let's go up to the briefing room." Facing the raider, who was now officially intimidated, he said, "Remember, your deal depends on me liking what you have to say. So far, I don't. We'll try again later. Enjoy your day."

  On the way to the briefing room, he called Rodney, who managed to get there before the rest of them. The scientist was scribbling restlessly on a datapad when they entered. "So we need a plan regarding 418," John stated without preamble, sitting down in his usual chair. "The raiders are an independent third party, but somehow I don't think either Cestan or Galven will suddenly decide to believe us if we tell them that. They've spent far too long building up a hatred for each other to let it go so easily."

  "Since the adarite influence is so widespread among the Nistra, their collective knowledge may be as weak as their individual memories," Teyla said. "And the Stargate within their territory was very obscured by foliage overgrowth. We should find out if Minister Galven is even aware of its existence."

  "More than that." Ronon paced along one wall of the room. "We need to find a way to keep the Cadre from using that gate."

  At the comment, Rodney glanced up from his datapad with a wary expression. "This is starting to feel suspiciously like one of those moments wherein I'm asked to do something that treads the fine line of sanity. For instance, manufacturing a gate shield out of thin air."

  Now that he mentioned it, a gate shield sounded like a pretty good idea. John looked at him at the same time the others did, and Rodney recoiled under their scrutiny. "Did everyone miss the derision attached to that statement?"

  Teyla didn't hesitate before speaking. "Ronon and I are indebted to the Nistra. The hunting circle did not have to take us in, yet they did."

  "We could have been raiders, for all they knew. They trusted us when we said we weren't." Ronon stopped his aimless walking and leaned forward over a chair. "I don't remember much, but I remember that."

  "Then let's take care of their problem by removing the gate entirely." Rodney waggled the datapad in his hand. "I did the distance calculation. Once the Daedalus returns, it could get to 418 in a couple of days. We can remove the second gate to use as part of our bridge back to the Milky Way."

  "Elizabeth said that Galven and Cestan were arguing about gate access, though," John reminded him. "If we can make the second gate functional, they'd have two gates for two societies, and that'd solve that problem."

  "While that's a laudable goal, it's not something we can achieve in a reasonable time frame." Rodney blew out a frustrated breath. "None of the gates we've harvested so far for the galactic bridge project have had operational DHDs; that's one of the reasons why they were good candidates for harvesting. If I could scrounge up enough spare parts to put together a DHD and a shield control for the the Nistra-and by no means should you take that as a promise that such a thing is possible-it would take weeks. From what we're hearing about the negotiations, the Falnori and Nistra are going to be killing each other long before that."

  John realized he was drumming restless fingers on the tabletop and stilled his hand. Looking at Teyla and Ronon, he asked, "Are you sure there was absolutely nothing in that wreckage that could have been the remains of a DHD?"

  "I am sure of very little from our visit," Teyla replied honestly. "We searched the area, but we did not have specialized equipment."

  "We could take a jumper through that gate, scan the area with its sensors, and use the onboard dialer to get back." John turned toward Rodney. "Couldn't we?"

  "Yes, no, and yes." Rodney rolled his eyes. "The energy emitted from adarite disrupts Ancient sensors, remember? Based on our limited testing, it doesn't affect the power sources used by other Ancient technology, such as the jumper's propulsion system. If you gave me a couple of hours to bend Jumper One's dialing computer to my will, I could force a DHD override and make sure we can arrive via the Nistra gate the way the Cadre did, but we'd have to land and use Earth-built equipment to perform any kind of search."

  "Assuming we find something down there, repairing a broken DHD or shield control would be easier than building new ones, right?"

  "Wouldn't you expect that to depend largely on the condition of the pieces we find?" Abruptly, Rodney stood up, giving them his real answer. "If we're going to investigate the possibility, we'd better get moving."

  "I'll go with you for backup. Since we might be hanging around some adarite deposits, we need to keep this an ATA-only crew." John rose as well. "Teyla, dial 418's main gate while we're prepping the jumper and tell Elizabeth what we're up to. With any luck she can stall Cestan and Galven for a little while. We'll be back in a couple of hours."

  He had Jumper One preflighted and all set to go by the time Rodney lugged his scanners aboard. The scientist plopped down in the copilot's seat with a grunt. "Although I complain about Ancient equipment on a regular basis, let me state here and now that their designs are nearly always lighter and more compact than ours."

  "Noted." John closed the hatch and powered up the craft. "Control, Jumper One is ready to depart."

  "Acknowledged," came the gate tech's response. "Safe trip, Colonel."

  As the jumper descended into the gate-room, John got the unnerving sense that Rodney was watching him a little too closely. He glanced over at his friend and immediately deduced the reason. "Don't start," he warned.

  As expected, Rodney ignored him. "So how does that brilliant resignation of yours look now?"

  Just what he wanted to talk about; he didn't even want to think about it. Sure, Ronon and Teyla were safe, and that meant a hell of a lot, but... "Nothing that's happened today changes the lousy decisions I've made lately." Which now had to include the decision to leave his teammates for dead-probably the worst choice of them all.

  "In my experience," Rodney blandly observed, "the military in general, and the SGC in particular, is often willing to accept a focus on results over methods. Sometimes I think it's even encouraged."

  John sighed. "Let's just get through this, all right?"

  The jumper slid through the event horizon, and the wormhole gave him the last word.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  n spite of his teammates' assurances that the Nistra generally left the second gate alone, Rodney planned to keep an eye out for suspicious activity throughout his stay on the planet. He was all for trying to head off a war, but he had no desire to be assaulted by a whip, arrow, bullet, or anything else in the process. Especially not another damned arrow. Besides, he had no guarantee that other members of this Cadre group wouldn't show up just to make life miserable.

  Sheppard cloaked the jumper upon arrival and performed a low-altitude pass over the surrounding wreckage to gain some visual references. The contrast between the rocky slopes here and the thriving Falnori farmlands nearer the Hall was striking. Short of someone actually mentioning one group or the other by name, there would have been no way for Teyla and Ronon to recognize this place as PM-418.

  Rodney had a more immediate concern, however. "Oh, no.

  "You know, someday you're going to have your very own fable," Sheppard commented from the pilot's seat. "The Boy Who Cried `Oh, No.' Or, more accurately, The Boy Who Cried `We're So Screwed."'

  "You're rarely as amusing as you think you are. And what makes you so sure I didn't just notice an urgent problem, like something about to blow up?"

  "No abject terror in your voice. So what's the issue?"

  "The sheer size of the debris field." Rodney waved at the long trail of wreckage beyond the jumper's windshield. "The station must have impacted the atmosphere at a fairly shallow angle and disintegrated, scattering fragments across miles of the planet's surface. Remember how long it took to recover even a majority of the pieces of the space shuttle that broke up over Texas? And that effort involved hundreds of people."

  "So," the Colonel summed up with his usual
eloquence, "needle in a haystack?"

  "An entire field of haystacks," Rodney corrected unhappily. "We can't possibly find every last scrap of that station, let alone examine it all."

  "We'll just have to make a few WAGs, then."

  Although Rodney had worked for the U.S. military for years, there were elements of its acronym-laden lexicon that had escaped him. Such omissions weren't wholly accidental on his part. "I don't want to know how WAG translates into standard English, do I?"

  "Wild-Ass Guess." With a grin so brief it barely blinked across his face, Sheppard attempted to access the head-up display, only to watch it flicker twice and then display wildly inaccurate data. "Huh. It was worth a try. I'm pretty sure we're not traveling at twice the speed of sound right now, though." Shutting off the HUD, he brought the jumper around in a lazy U-turn. "Looks like the most concentrated area of wreckage is around the gate.

  "And that would be the most logical place to find a DHD, in any case." Rodney started to look for a suitable landing site when a warning flashed on the control panel.

  Sheppard slapped at it. "Well, crap."

  And he had the nerve to snark Rodney for saying `Oh, no.' Hypocrite. "What?" Rodney demanded. "Something dangerous? Some of us don't read voices as well as you claim to do."

  "We just lost our cloak," Sheppard reported. "Guess the sensors aren't the only system affected by proximity to adarite. I'm gonna set us down under those trees, give the jumper whatever cover we can manage."

  Rodney was under no illusions; any Nistra who stumbled on the ship would assuredly draw the conclusion that it belonged to a raiding group.

  As it turned out, the drooping evergreen branches obscured the jumper rather nicely. Sheppard located camouflage netting in the storage compartment and dragged it over the hull, just to be on the safe side. Not for the first time-although he'd be damned if he'd admit it-Rodney appreciated the officer's instincts. A two-person mission might not be his idea of a fun outing, but in this case the other person was Sheppard, and he trusted Sheppard above anyone else to watch his back when it mattered.