"No. They merely believe that you have been raiding them." Teyla leaned forward. "It has been so long since you've interacted with them in any meaningful way that you do not recognize them, or they you. The Cadre has set you against each other."
"And has this Cadre refused us food, weakened us?" Temal demanded.
How could they explain this? "The weakness many of your people suffer is due to the ore you mine. Think about the most afflicted among you. They are miners, are they not?"
No one responded. Teyla began to hope that she had reached them. "This whole war is based on one misconception after another," she persisted. "Our people are bringing a shield for the ring on your lands, and it will stop the marauders from coming. There is no need to fight."
liar laid a gentle hand on her arm, looking both wistful and sympathetic. "I wish I could believe as you do. You are young and have not lived among us. Sadly, there are some aspects of our existence that we cannot change. The hostility of the Falnori is one such constant. We have been called to defend our people, and we shall."
Though disappointed, Teyla could not blame these people for their views. What proof could she offer that might outweigh the beliefs of so many years? Had she really expected to convince an entire society to lay down their arms based solely on her word?
"Then we'll stay with you," Ronon said suddenly, catching her unawares.
Ear's expression suggested that she had not expected that, either. "You are welcome, of course. But this is not your cause.
"We have to get back to the ring by the Hall, anyway." Ronon's gaze betrayed his true thoughts, however. Teyla followed it to where Dantir sat and felt the weight of hopelessness settle in her chest. The weapon at the boy's belt was crudely made. Still, she had seen and used the Falnori version enough to recognize it as an adarite whip.
Rodney desperately wanted to be able to wipe the sweat off his forehead. The clear plastic faceshield that prevented him from doing so seemed like a unique form of torture. On the plus side, they'd confirmed that the station gate did indeed have a shield and that its control mechanisms were contained in the dialing console. If he could get the dialer down to the planet and get it functioning, the crashed gate would be protected from the Cadre. However...
He glanced up from his work and immediately regretted the action. "I realize we're not quite where we want to be in terms of progress, but that Wraith cruiser is getting awfully big in the window."
"Think positive, Rodney." Sheppard supported the keyboard section of the console while Radek loosened the brackets holding it to the base. "How much time do we have left?"
"Of the fifty-minute estimate? Fourteen minutes."
The keyboard came free, and the Colonel staggered backward to prevent it and him from hitting the deck. "The base is attached quite solidly to the floor," Radek observed. "I believe we will need to take only the components from inside and construct an alternate casing for them later."
"All right. We can empty one of the tool kits and transport the parts in that container."
"I'm way ahead of you on the emptying part." Sheppard surveyed the hand tools strewn across the floor.
If removing each crystal and translucent circuit board was a painfully slow process, arranging them all in the tool kit so that they would be protected in transit was excruciating. In the background, Rodney's traitorous brain kept up a veritable feedback loop of anxiety. With what force would the station strike the cruiser? Would the structure crumple on impact, or would it hold its shape long enough for the venting of the remaining oxygen to knock them into some other piece of junk? Maybe out of orbit entirely? Into the planet's atmosphere?
At long last he set the final piece in place and closed the case. "Okay, time to move, and I do mean now. That keyboard section will fit through the hatch, won't it?"
"Guess we'll find out." Sheppard handed the light yet ungainly keyboard to Radek and shimmied down the ladder. The Czech tipped the piece up on its end and cautiously maneuvered it through the hatch into Sheppard's arms. "See? Nothing to it. Somebody get down here to catch the tool case."
Radek jerked his head backwards. Startled, Rodney jumped away. "What the hell was that?"
"My hair is falling in my face," Radek replied, miserably tapping his helmet. "It itches. I thought I could shake it back."
"Guys, time limit?" Sheppard reminded them, as if Rodney could have forgotten. Radek trudged down the ladder, and Rodney handed him one case and then the other before climbing down himself.
Sheppard was already halfway down the corridor by the time Rodney's boots hit the deck and he reached out to take one of the tool cases from Radek. The transition was made awkward when Rodney tried to grip the handle too close to where Radek held it, and their unwieldy gloves collided. The case slipped; Rodney juggled it, stumbling back against the ladder, where he felt the fabric of his suit catch on an edge. He waited a beat, breath frozen in his throat, and soon heard a terrifying hiss.
"My suit!" he yelled, scrabbling to find the leak. His sleeve-somewhere on the left sleeve... Both cases fell to the deck as Radek seized Rodney's arm and bunched the torn fabric tightly in his glove. "That won't be airtight," said Rodney, even as the hissing sound grew softer. "We need to seal it."
Having jogged back to them, Sheppard set the dialing keyboard carefully on the deck and crouched by the tool cases. "Tell me what to do, Radek."
"Second drawer," Radek replied. "Duct tape."
"Duct tape?" The higher pitch of Rodney's voice must have been due to the onset of hypoxia. "Are you serious? The pressure difference would overcome the adhesive, unless you were planning on essentially mummifying me in duct tape, in which case we'll run out of time before-"
"Time is the issue, Rodney." Radek's grip on his sleeve tightened as the Colonel unwound a length of tape and cut it with a blade from the case. "It only needs to hold for a few minutes. We will move quickly."
"You can say that again!" Rodney concentrated on slowing his respiration down to a manageable rate. His suit was losing oxygen through that tear, and asphyxiation was high on his list of worst ways to die.
Radek took the tape from Sheppard, careful not to tangle it between their gloved fingers. He released his hold on Rodney's suit and slapped the makeshift patch into place in one fluid motion. Feeling perspiration gather along his hairline, Rodney pressed his right hand down over the tape. The telltale sound of escaping air seemed to have stopped-or had it merely exceeded his hearing range?
Either way, he wasn't interested in waiting around to find out. As Radek retrieved one tool case, abandoning the other, and Sheppard once again picked up the dialer components that were the goal of this lamentable mission, Rodney bolted down the hallway.
While the infuriatingly similar corridors didn't make the route any more familiar, determination and a healthy sense of self-preservation worked wonders. Each inhalation seemed to require more effort than the last; Rodney couldn't tell whether that was a function of decreased oxygen availability or his lack of running proficiency. His vision began to tunnel-but at the end of that tunnel lay the welcoming hatch of Jumper One.
No sooner had they piled inside than Radek smacked his hand down on the hatch control. When the jumper had sealed and pressurized itself, all three men tore off their helmets.
Even Sheppard was breathing hard, which somehow made Rodney feel a bit better. "Rodney, you okay?"
"Ask again later," Rodney moaned, drinking in the cool, plentiful air. "Thank God."
"Yes, yes, now we can inhale each other's sweat rather than just our own," grumbled Radek. "Will you help stow the gear or will you stand there?"
The problem with Radek was that, on rare occasions, he had moments of seeming a little too much like Rodney. It was disconcerting.
While they secured their newly-acquired dialing computer, or at least the important parts of one, Sheppard headed for the cockpit, yanking off his gloves along the way, and wedged his spacesuited body into the pilot's seat to begin the start
up sequence. Rodney followed when his task was complete and attempted to squeeze his own suit into the right seat. Nothing doing. He shot the Colonel a preemptive glare. "I don't want to hear a single joke about donuts."
"I can barely breathe, if that makes you feel any better," Sheppard replied tersely, fingers skipping over the controls. "I don't have time to take this stupid suit off. You do."
"Ah. Quite right." Rodney stepped back into the main compartment, and he and Radek reenacted the initial fumbling spacesuit debacle in reverse. When he was finally free of the wretched thing, he lurched back to his seat and cursed in sheer astonishment at the cruiser now dominating the windscreen.
"Yeah." Sheppard's voice sounded as casual as ever, even as his motions became increasingly harried. "Got a brainteaser for you guys."
"What is it?" Radek asked, settling into his seat behind them. Rodney said nothing, filled with a sudden and terrible sense that he already knew what was wrong.
Sheppard twisted as far around as the bulky suit would let him. "I can't disengage the jumper from the dock."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
lizabeth felt the clinging dampness in the air almost 'before she fully awoke. As she became aware of the heavy canvas tent above her, and the bedroll beneath her, she was struck by a sharp, visceral memory of a camping trip to Vermont. She'd been eleven years old, and her father had dragged her out of a sound sleep to watch the sunrise over the mountains. She'd been enthralled by the colors, the whole world so still and yet more alive than she'd ever imagined. Dad had chuckled at her slack-faced wonder and remarked that everyday problems seemed insignificant next to such a view.
Waking up on another world, in the midst of an army marching to battle, it was Elizabeth who seemed insignificant.
Diplomacy required its participants to see through the eyes of others, to find the issues that mattered most to each side and approach them on a level accessible to all parties. She'd done her best-perhaps more than might have been advisable-to bridge the gap between the Falnori and Nistra, but the actions of the Cadre had not created the cultural divide, merely inflamed it. As for the effects of the adarite, only a direct comparison test would provide the kind of empirical evidence that might convince Galven, and it was simply too late for that now.
"Dr. Weir?"
She pushed herself up to a sitting position and tugged her fingers through sleep-tangled hair. "Morning, Major."
Lorne folded back one of the tent flaps and crouched to look through the opening. "Thought you'd want to know," he began. "Governor Cestan sent a warrior regiment ahead last night. They had numbers this time, and the scouts just reported back that they were able to take the gate hill."
"I suppose I should be pleased to hear that." Elizabeth rolled her shoulders to work out some of the kinks caused by sleeping on the ground. "They've been gracious hosts."
"They're also more likely than the Nistra to let us use the gate at this point." Reaching into his jacket, the Major withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle. "Some bread. It's pretty good."
She accepted the bundle with a smile of thanks. "I'd like to think that exposing the Cadre for what they are and shielding the gates on this planet would do a lot to improve the state of affairs. I'm just not sure how we'll manage to accomplish either one in the middle of a battle."
"If you want my opinion, ma'am..."
That was one aspect of military protocol she'd never quite gotten used to. With the exception of John, sometimes they needed a little encouragement to speak their minds. "Of course I do."
Lorne met her gaze squarely. "I think we should bail out of here ASAP, before the fighting around the gate really gets going. We can come back through the other gate in a cloaked jumper to reassess the situation." The longtime Stargate program veteran spoke pragmatically, something she'd always appreciated. "The circumstances have changed since Dr. Beckett left and the Colonel went hunting for a DHD. If we stay here and wait for an opportunity to talk either side down, we'll be taking a big personal risk, and I'm not supposed to let you do that."
He was right, of course, and she didn't dispute a word. What he didn't say-but must have been thinking-was that they were at risk simply by being here.
"Fair enough," she said, gathering her bedroll. "Let's go see if Cestan has a moment to listen to a request."
When she emerged from the borrowed tent, she found the encampment surprisingly active. Although the sun hadn't yet broken free of the horizon, tents were being packed up and fires doused.
Walking through the camp, Lorne a half-step behind, she could see the distinction between the whip-warriors and the larger population of infantry soldiers. The soldiers, mostly men, were strapping thick leather armor over their torsos and affixing swords or crossbows to their backs. Some moved with a sense of vigor, others with apprehension. The warriors, by contrast, wore lighter garments-presumably for agility-and displayed little emotion. Nevertheless, it was clear that all were prepared for what lay ahead.
She found the interaction between the different groups striking in its normalcy. Warriors and soldiers conversed and assisted each other with no apparent class disparity. If she had needed reassurance that the Falnori didn't believe gene-bearers to be inherently superior to others-which ought to include the Nistra-that example told her volumes.
Cestan stood in the center of a small group of advisors while aides disassembled the large tent behind him. The robes he'd worn throughout the treaty negotiations had been replaced by more practical clothing: the tunic and pants worn by the warriors and the leather breastplate worn by the soldiers. The group disbanded shortly before the governor caught sight of his off-world guests.
"Day's greetings," he said at Elizabeth's approach. "I apologize for the haste, but we must move quickly. When Galven learns that his hunters at the gate have been overpowered, he will accelerate the bulk of his force. We must reach the gate and bolster our unit there before the Nistra can mount an offensive."
"I understand," Elizabeth replied. "In fact, Major Lorne and I would like to make use of the gate before that happens, if possible."
Cestan's lips thinned. "That may be difficult," he admitted. "The Nistra have the advantages of numbers and time-we believe they began their march hours before their strike group took the gate from your guards."
"If your force is smaller, you should be able to cover more ground," Lorne pointed out.
"That is true, and fortunately we have a shorter distance to traverse as well. Once in the forest, our army will divide itself and close in on the gate from multiple sides. If you travel with my western division, which will have the shortest path, you may be able to reach the gate without interference."
'Interference'-what an innocuous euphemism. Elizabeth nodded. "Thank you. I'm sure our needs aren't at the top of your priority list right now."
The Falnori leader surprised her by reaching out to briefly place a hand on her shoulder. "Your efforts here deserve better than this," he said, conveying sincere regret. "I am truly sorry."
She quashed a flare of irrational resentment. On Earth, she had been dismissed more than once by foreign leaders, generally older men who didn't see her as an equal, and she had an instinctual defensive reaction to the concept. Cestan hadn't shown her that same condescension, so it would be unfair of her to interpret his attitude as the typical `poor girl; you tried your best.' Still, the comment helped to renew her determination. "Governor, I recognize the difficult situation you're in, and I won't try to talk you into laying down your arms when it's clear the Nistra won't do likewise. I will ask you, though, to please bear in mind that my people are continuing to explore alternatives. If I can bring you proof that the raiders are not Nistra and protect the gates from their attacks, will you consider a ceasefire?"
"If you can achieve those aims, and convince Galven besides, you will have my support as well as my admiration." The note of cynical reservation in Cestan's voice came as no great shock.
"Unfortunately, Minister Galven has as much reaso
n to be skeptical as you, if not more. I've asked him to give up control of his biggest commodity." A sudden thought occurred to Elizabeth. "You accepted our claim that adarite is harmful to those without the gene-the ability. Did you do so because your people would benefit if the Nistra relinquished the mines? Or do you believe what we've said?"
"In truth, I do believe it," responded Cestan. His gaze became distant. "You see, as a child I was fascinated by the craftsmen who fashioned the adarite whips. I had hopes of learning the trade myself and was apprenticed to one of the capital's finest masters. I struggled for a long year to improve my skills, never to succeed. The master would repeat his lessons, and I would still be unable to put them into practice. Many of us failed at the craft. Although the ability has never measured one's station in life, some of us came to believe that one might be born to a.. .purpose of sorts." A hint of a smile crossed his features. "From what you have said, it is possible that we were not wholly wrong."
"Maybe that's true," she allowed. "Maybe you were meant instead to lead your people to a new understanding, and a lasting peace."
It was a bold remark, the wisdom of which she reconsidered almost immediately. To her relief, he seemed to take no offense. "I would like nothing more than for that to be true."
His chief warrior-Kellec, she'd been told at some point- interrupted to inform them that the columns were prepared to depart. Elizabeth and Lorne were escorted to join the division that would proceed to the gate by way of the western woods.
The hike was no different from its mirror image the night before: just over an hour long and conducted under partial daylight. Elizabeth fended off a chill that had little to do with the temperature and everything to do with her utter ignorance about what they would find ahead of them.
Relief nearly overwhelmed her when the hill appeared beyond the trees and only Falnori warriors could be seen in the vicinity. They'd succeeded in outpacing the Nistra army. For better or worse, the more Falnori troops that arrived, the more difficult it would be for anyone to take the hill from them. For now, at least, they had the gate. Trading a smile with Lorne, she climbed the slope alongside the commander of the incoming warriors and moved decisively toward the DHD.
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