Elizabeth watched Cestan's bearing, hoping for some clue as to his state of mind. Even after all this, it still came down to trusting the word of others: Sekal's, Ronon's, hers.
On impulse, she decided to lay her cards on the table. "I'm sure you're thinking that we could have staged this. We could be in league with this Cadre, for all you know. But ask yourself this: what would be the benefit to us? Why turn your people against the Nistra, or ally ourselves with one side over the other? Wouldn't the Cadre have been better off if everything had stayed as it was before we arrived, when they could steal from both sides with impunity?"
Whether Cestan had no answer to that or simply wanted to hear her out, she didn't know. She blazed ahead. "History is a compilation of events and experiences, nothing more. It's viewed by each person through a different lens, based on the knowledge and perspective of that person. Your view of the Nistra has been shaped by everything that has happened between your people and theirs over thousands of years. It would make sense for them to be the aggressors here. But isn't it possible that something else might be at work?"
She was still forming her next argument when another voice joined in.
"The Nistra have done the same thing," Ronon said. "Because of the way your two peoples split and started to drift apart, they believe you think you're superior to them. They probably don't even realize that not all of you have the Ancestor ability, because they've spent centuries convincing themselves that you make judgments of worth based on lineage. That's why they believe you abandoned the treaty and are stealing adarite from them. They assume you think you're entitled."
Buoyed by his contribution, Elizabeth shot him a quick look of thanks. To borrow one of John's expressions, it was time to throw for the end zone. She faced Cestan directly, holding his gaze. "You and the Nistra were once a unified community. Wouldn't you like to show them how wrong they are about you? Wouldn't your world be better if you had access to all the adarite you need, and you could stop looking over your shoulder for raiders? Wouldn't it be the will of the Ancestors to see their descendants coexisting and thriving on the world they fought so hard to protect?" Her nails dug into her palm as she tightened a desperate fist. "You can make all those things happen if you'd just step back and listen to each other!"
There was a long pause, during which she replayed in her mind everything she'd just said, wondering if she could have done better, done more.
At last, Cestan turned sharply away. "Enough," he said. "This ends now."
Elizabeth closed her eyes, utterly drained, and said a silent prayer.
"Where are we going?" Dantir struggled weakly to extricate himself from Teyla's grip. "Let me go! Why will you not let me fight?"
"You can do more for your people by helping me," Teyla told him shortly, guiding him through the mayhem of the battle. It was a challenge to keep a firm hand on the boy's arm while keeping her stun pistol at the ready, but she'd managed that and found an opportunity to `lose' Dantir's whip besides. She'd steered them away from the front lines and now searched with some urgency for Galven's headquarters. If the minister was not willing to believe the Lanteans' claims about the effects of adarite, she would show him direct evidence.
"Where is Ronon?" asked Dantir suddenly, twisting around to look for his hero. "He was here-?"
"Yes, he was," Teyla replied, summoning her frayed patience. They had seen the warriors closing in on Ronon as they'd fled. That was more than enough for her to surmise what had happened to him-and what might happen to him now. "Do you recall how he protected you?" She received a nod. "What do you recall after that?"
After a moment's thought, Dantir gaped at her, bewildered and clearly scared. "I don't know," he confessed. "It's blurry, like a dream. Why is it blurry?"
"That is because you began to use the whip, as Ronon told you not to do. It took your memory from you. Do you see at last why the whips are dangerous?"
She realized upon seeing the misery in his eyes that she had spoken too harshly, letting her own anxiety bleed through. He was little more than a child, after all, and this was not his fault.
"I am sorry," she said, softening her tone. "You are not to blame, and you need not fear what happened. It is over now. Nothing will be blurry again so long as you avoid the whips and the ore used to make them."
From then on, she loosened her hold on his arm, and he did not try to run.
They reached the rear of the formation, such as it was, and were confronted by a scene almost as terrible as the battle itself. All around lay the wounded: some pierced by arrows, others laid open by blades, still more bearing the awful burns of the whips. The air was choked with painfilled moans. Overwhelmed medics, likely those miners considered too small or weak to fight, attempted to tend the injured with what little knowledge and supplies they had. Dazed soldiers stared at nothing, as if struggling to comprehend what had happened to them.
Teyla increased her pace, wanting to spare Dantir the sight as best she could. The young man remained silent, and she knew he had already learned far too much this day.
The Nistra didn't appear to have a command post in the traditional sense. Galven was sequestered inside a tight ring of hunters, one of whom blocked Teyla's path with a bow across her body.
"No one disturbs the minister," he said gruffly.
"Everything that has occurred today should disturb the minister," she fired back. "I come with an explanation and a plan. Each moment we delay costs another life. This one is on your head."
She took advantage of his hesitation and pushed past with Dantir. "Minister Galven!"
The Nistra leader glanced over at her but quickly returned his attention to the soldier reporting to him. Undeterred, she walked up and placed herself squarely within his sight. "Minister, I am Teyla Emmagan. We met at the beginning of the treaty talks."
"I remember you, warrior Emmagan." Although she might have imagined it, there were more lines visible around Galven's eyes and mouth than before, and he moved more slowly, as if aged by defeat. "But I have no time for the fanciful claims of your people when my own are being so savagely beaten."
"I know, Minister. I have been among your people today. I have seen how they struggle bravely to achieve the impossible."
"It should not be impossible." Galven's frustration boiled close to the surface. "We have the strength of numbers-"
"And yet your forces cannot focus on the smaller objectives necessary for a successful campaign, only the larger goal." Teyla chose her words with care, as she would get no other chance at this. At the same time, neither could she afford to be subtle. "There is a reason for that: the adarite. Dr. Weir tried to explain how it hinders the mind. Will you listen if the story is told by one of your own?"
The minister's gaze fell on Dantir, who shrank back, no doubt intimidated by the leader of his people. "You have something to say?"
"It's all right," Teyla assured the young man. "Tell him what you remember of the battle."
Dantir twisted the tail of his shirt between his fingers. "I wanted to use my whip," he began tentatively. "Ronon and Teyla told me not to. They used their light weapons to fell many Falnori-"
With a sharp hand, Galven cut him off. "You fight alongside us?" he asked Teyla, looking rather taken aback by the idea.
"Not to pass judgment on the Falnori, but to protect our benefactors," Teyla answered. "When Ronon and I were in need, your hunters aided us. We could not stand by while they destroyed themselves. Please allow Dantir to finish. This is most important."
At her urging, Dantir spoke up again, his head sinking to his chest in shame. "I wanted to believe Ronon, but I had been given an honored whip, and I had to try it. I don't remember triggering it. I remember nothing more until after Teyla pulled me away."
"The adarite took his memory, as it has done to all your people-slowly for the miners, more suddenly for the hunters today." The urgency Teyla felt began to slip through into her tone, and she did not stifle it. "Dantir does not remember that my f
riend was dragged away before his eyes. Ronon protected him and was taken by the Falnori because of it. Do you still doubt our sincerity? ,)
Galven's shock had only increased as she continued to speak. After a moment, he asked quietly, "You have risked yourselves for our people?"
He seemed in awe, more affected by their actions than by anything she'd said about the adarite. In a .jolt of comprehension, she realized that they had been addressing the issue the wrong way. The Nistra had split from the Falnori chiefly because of their failure to protect one and all from the Wraith attack. The hunters, excepting Dantir, had fully trusted her and Ronon only after they had shared in the work to be done. These people understood and valued deeds over words. By standing with them in battle, she and Ronon had earned respect. She intended to use whatever influence she had gained as best she could.
"I have, Minister," she replied. "And Ronon has done more. He sacrificed himself to allow Dantir and me to escape, and he may have paid for it with his life. He acted, as I do, because we believe this war need not continue. Your people rage against an enemy which has not wronged you in the manner you think. They fight to defend a commodity, not knowing that it harms them. They are not yet lost, but they desperately need someone to guide them."
She held the older man's gaze securely. "They are good people who will follow if they are led. Lead them."
For some time, Galven stared back at her, and the silence scraped away at her resolve.
At last, he swiveled to address one of his guards. "Bring the flag of conference."
Teyla thanked whatever Ancestors might be listening and waited to see what message would be sent to the Falnori. To her surprise, the minister did not assign a representative to carry a proposal to the other side. Instead, he took the flag from his assistant, apparently intending to make the journey himself.
"Are you certain..." she began, only to trail off upon seeing the set of his features.
"You asked me to lead, warrior Emmagan," he said simply.
That moment, more than any before it, showed her that he was indeed deserving of his post.
"Then you will need bodyguards. One with no need of a whip will be helpful." She turned to Dantir. "Stay here," she instructed him, leaving no room for argument. If Ronon had been killed, as she feared, she would not let his last effort fail now.
With a purposeful stride, Galven started forward, and Teyla prepared to follow him into the heart of the battle.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
hen Cestan walked out of the command post, heading for the hill, and ordered that the prisoners be brought along, Ronon once again had no idea whether or not he was about to die. The odds of him being publicly killed as an example had been waxing and waning for some time. He considered the factors involved in making an escape attempt. Could he tear the whip that bound him out of Kellec's hands before the warrior could turn it on? Was the likelihood of his execution great enough to be worth the risk of losing his hands?
Then Weir fell into step beside Cestan, and Ronon banished any thoughts of trying to escape. He would not risk her safety or that of the military team in order to save himself. In any case, the situation was too tenuous to be disturbed further. He would have to take his chances and stay alert for any change.
"I grant that your allegations may be true, Dr. Weir," said the governor, focused not on her but on the Stargate ahead. "Before I address them, however, there is a matter left undone. I cannot ask my people to believe a group of off-worlders if I allow one to go free after taking up arms against us. Treasonous acts have been committed, and punishment must be delivered."
Ronon had lived under a death sentence for seven years, and so-though it took effort-he didn't flinch at this one. To her credit, neither did Weir. Instead, she immediately took three long steps to outpace Cestan and planted herself in his path.
"That's not acceptable to me, Governor," she said firmly. "At the very least, I request that you delay the execution until after a lasting ceasefire is struck. We can discuss the level of punishment at that time. I'm confident that our assistance here will be significant enough to partially mitigate Ronon's offense."
"I fa lasting ceasefire is struck," Cestan corrected. "I do not share your certainty that Minister Galven will see reason. And I will agree to let you present your case and the raider to him only if you allow my warriors to deliver this one's punishment." A dark gaze, tinted by disdain rather than fury, fixed on Ronon even as he continued to speak to Weir. "He made his choice. If you sincerely want to broker peace on this world, you will stand aside."
Weir stepped away from Cestan to stand in front of Ronon. Although her composure never wavered, her eyes betrayed her conflict. He didn't envy her the terrible quandary she faced. Lives were being lost now, in this moment, and her only chance at bringing it all to a halt was to sacrifice his. Countless unknowns on one side, weighed against one friend on the other.
He knew what the right decision was, and he suspected she did as well. It obviously tore at her soul to contemplate such a thing, so if he could do anything to make it easier for her, he was willing.
"He's right," he said quietly. "I made my choice."
"Ronon," Weir murmured, looking utterly lost. "I can't..."
Barely noticing that she hadn't finished the sentence, Ronon spotted a flash of color from the corner of his eye, making its way across the battlefield on the Nistra side. He struggled for a second to identify it. When he succeeded, a swell of relief overtook him. This was a true, honest opportunity- for all of them.
"You can," he reassured her. "Just for a while."
"For a while? How does that-"
"Ma'am, Governor," Lorne interrupted, apparently every bit as observant as Ronon and looking in the same direction. "Look down there."
As everyone turned to survey the battlefield below, Ronon watched Cestan. The Falnori leader's expression shifted from suspicion to shock and back. "A flag of conference," he said, half to himself.
Lorne drew a small set of field glasses from his vest and peered down at the combatants parting to make way for the banner. The fighting hadn't ceased, but it had slowed. "It's Minister Galven," he stated. "And he's not alone." The Major handed the viewing device to Weir. As soon as she lifted it, the worry fell away from her face.
"It could be a ploy," Kellec pointed out.
"It isn't," declared Weir.
Cestan narrowed his eyes. "How can you be sure?"
She turned to him with a smile born of confidence and poise. "Because I would trust my life to the woman walking beside him."
Her response told Ronon everything he needed to know. Thank you, Teyla.
"Ma'am, you could call her," suggested Lorne, tapping his radio.
That hadn't occurred to Ronon, and it didn't seem to have occurred to Weir, either. She hurried to detach her own radio from her jacket. "Teyla, can you hear me?"
A snap of static quickly yielded to a familiar voice. "I am here, Elizabeth. I have provided some further information to Minister Galven. He is willing to discuss the possibility of a truce. Will Governor Cestan consider a proposal?"
"They should offer surrender, not truce," scoffed Kellec.
The governor waved him silent. "Can you guarantee that the flag of conference will be respected?" he asked Weir.
"I can't," she admitted. "I can, however, offer you the protection of these men." She nodded at the Marines. "Galven took a substantial risk to approach you himself in this manner. I'd consider that a gesture of goodwill."
It seemed obvious that Cestan was less than completely convinced. But certainty wasn't required right now-just an open mind.
"Bring our flag," he ordered a nearby warrior. As the woman hurried off to comply, he turned to Weir. "If the Nistra have plotted to deceive, your man Ronon will not be the only one to suffer punishment."
Weir accepted those terms more readily than Ronon would have; he didn't trust that some overeager Nistra wouldn't take unilateral action. Yet she merely lifted her
radio. "We're coming, Teyla. Tell Minister Galven that we especially look forward to introducing him to Sekal, the leader of the Cadre."
After a pause, the response arrived. "I believe that would be very beneficial to all."
"We're on our way."
The flag was obtained and raised on its staff, and at Weir's urging the two Marines not directly guarding Sekal moved to flank Cestan. Kellec tugged Ronon for ward with his whip.
The Falnori stationed on the hilltop gaped at the unexpected procession, but they quickly moved aside in deference to their leader. As the flag moved down the slope toward the battlefield, Ronon scanned the masses of soldiers until he could identify Teyla near the Nistra flag. His eyesight was strong, and he could see her face brighten when she located him in return. He tried to look reassuring, even if he couldn't offer much comfort. Good news: he was still alive, a fact which she'd been given good reason to doubt. Bad news: he was still a prisoner.
Ranks continued to part for them, allowing them passage. Most of the fighting in the vicinity had stopped, combatants edging back toward their respective lines in light of the new development. Cestan's group had almost reached the foot of the hill when a raised bow caught Ronon's attention. He'd spent enough time hunting with the people who made and used those bows to recognize that it was not Falnori.
In an instant, the situation was clear. Just as he'd feared, a Nistra hunter was bearing down on Cestan from behind a group of unwitting Falnori soldiers, ready to become a hero by felling the enemy leader... and in so doing he would destroy any chance this world had of finding peace.
Ronon's instincts had always served him well. When the bow was drawn back to loose its arrow, there was no hesitation-he lunged forward and placed himself in its path.
Sergeant Alderman's shout of warning came too late. Before Elizabeth knew what was happening, Ronon was on the ground at Cestan's feet, an arrow embedded in his shoulder, and a group of Falnori soldiers had seized the arms of a defiant Nistra hunter in the crowd.
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