The debriefing didn’t take long — in fact, the longest part was Radek waxing rhapsodic about the titanium plates he had found. Though mostly, Ronon thought, it was quick because they didn’t have much choice. They could pay what Cai wanted, or look somewhere else. And Sheppard was not the kind of man who’d send a raiding party to steal something he could afford to pay for. Ronon allowed himself a crooked smile. And besides, the plates were too big and heavy to move if somebody was shooting at them. Sheppard was making wrap-it-up noises, and Ronon pulled himself upright.
“Sheppard. There’s one more thing.”
Everyone looked at him, Teyla with her head to one side, and he licked his lips.
“While Zelenka was doing his thing, I went up on the roof to take a look around. The City Museum looks pretty much intact. When I was a kid, they said there was a big collection of Ancient artifacts there. I’m thinking we should take a look.”
Sheppard nodded. “Sounds interesting. Teyla, do you think Cai would go for that?”
She paused, considering. “We might have to offer a little more, but, yes, I think he would agree. The Ancient gene is so rare here that there is little use any of us, Satedans, Athosians, Genii, or any other people, can make of their devices.”
“OK,” Sheppard said. “See what you can do. Ronon, you’ll be in charge if we get clearance, and, Radek, I’d like you to be part of that group.”
Radek nodded, took a deep breath. “We should also bring Dr. Lynn.” He paused, gave a rueful smile. “After all, is this not exactly what we have archeologists for?”
“OK,” Sheppard said again. “Then tomorrow we send the engineers — and I appreciate the loan of Hammond’s people, Colonel Carter — and Ronon and his team will check out this museum collection. But remember. Don’t touch the glowing things.”
William was the last to arrive in the gate room. He wasn’t actually late, but he was carrying a travel mug, which would have merited remark, Radek thought, if he hadn’t been carrying one himself. They had to wait for the control room team to disengage and redial the gate, a team of Marines with P90s at the ready just in case the Wraith picked that moment to try to dial in. The odds of that were vanishingly small, but it was not a chance anyone wanted to take.
Nonetheless, it was a relief to see the gate light again, the burst of blue steadying to the shimmer of the event horizon, filing the circle of the gate. The Marine detail formed up sharply, the engineers following with less conscious swagger, and Ronon and Teyla moved forward, ready to be first through the gate. Radek took a deep breath — this was really not what he’d signed up for — and followed. At the edge of the event horizon, he glanced over his shoulder, saw Sheppard watching from the rail of the control room, his face so expressionless it was clear how much he wanted to go in their place. I wish you could, Radek thought, and stepped through the gate.
He emerged into the chill of a spring morning, the light gold and new, the shadows long across the square. Smoke rose from the tents, and a bonfire was burning in a cleared spot at the center of the square. His breath left a trail of fog, but it was the kind of chill that promised a warm day to follow.
“Dex!” Ushan Cai emerged from the best-repaired of the buildings, a stocky woman at his side, and Ronon lifted his hand in greeting.
“Cai.”
“And Teyla and Dr. Zelenka,” Cai went on. “Welcome. I’m glad we’ve been able to come to an agreement.”
“As are we,” Teyla said.
“I assume there are more coming?” Cai asked, and Ronon nodded.
“Right behind us.”
Even as he spoke, the event horizon rippled again, and the first of the Marines emerged, hauling the crated trade goods. Cai nodded, nodded again as the engineers followed them, and there was the usual milling around as the Marines looked for the right place to leave the crates and the engineers looked for their orders. Ronon got them sorted out quickly enough, and Teyla smiled at Cai.
“There was another matter we were interested in discussing. Perhaps I might have a word?”
“Of course,” Cai answered, and they moved out of earshot.
“Zelenka!” Ronon called. “Help Vin get Captain Corvasc set up at the factory. Then come back and we’ll see what Teyla’s come up with.”
“Yes, of course,” Radek said, and hurried to help.
It didn’t take long to show the engineers the plates, and to get them started. They’d brought plasma torches and an Ancient skid that seemed have some kind of antigravity, as well as props and blocks, and Vin was happy to help, particularly when the detail sergeant proved willing to explain the torch. Radek waited a few minutes to be sure it was all in order, then started back to the square.
He was expecting a call to tell him to hurry up, but the radio stayed silent the whole way. Instead, there was birdsong and sunlight, a sense of spring that felt impossibly good after the weeks of cold and snow. There was new growth in what had obviously been household gardens, tucked in between ruined houses, and he guessed that Cai’s people would be able to eat well for the summer, at least. They didn’t lack courage, coming back here, particularly with Death gathering the Wraith behind her, but if she could be stopped — From the look of things, they could do well.
William was standing by the dying bonfire, talking to the stocky woman who had been with Cai — in fact, they were trading tastes of each other’s drinks, nodding seriously. That was also something Radek remembered, the way William had always used food and drink to make connections, talking as easily to grandmothers as to street vendors, and he made himself smile as he moved to join them. William’s greeting was equally reserved, and Radek was glad to see movement in the doorway of Cai’s headquarters. Ronon emerged, followed by Teyla, still talking over her shoulder to Cai, who stooped slightly to listen.
“Zelenka,” Ronon said. “We’re good to go.”
“Very well,” Radek answered. “The engineers are settled to work, and I think that will go well.”
“How far is it to this museum?” William asked.
Ronon paused, obviously calculating. “About — three kilometers, I’d say. A little less than that.”
“Not bad,” William said, and tucked the now-empty travel mug into his pack.
Radek looked at Teyla. “So we have a deal?”
“Yes.” Her smile was serene. “I have agreed that we will share information on what is still in the museum, in exchange for first choice of what is found. I think it is fair.”
“Good enough for me,” Ronon said. He wasn’t looking good, Radek thought, as though the first pleasure of seeing his fellow Satedans had worn off and he was seeing the ruined city all the more clearly for having been happy. “Let’s go.”
Cai’s people had done some clearing of the streets around the gate square, but once they’d gone a kilometer or so, the damage was more impressive. Buildings had collapsed into the street, spilling bricks across what had been a broad roadway, so that they had to scramble over and around the piles of debris. Glass glittered between the paving stones, spread in swaths across the bricks. The birds seemed more distant now, driven off by the sound of their footsteps.
Walking would have been bearable, but the uneven footing, the detours and the occasional climb, was making Radek’s leg begin to ache. He felt himself lagging, gritted his teeth, not wanting to say anything, and was only mildly embarrassed when Teyla called a halt at the next open square. He sat on the edge of the now-dry fountain — otherwise almost untouched; winged nymphs lifted wreaths to a central pillar, their bodies chipped but intact — and discreetly massaged the cramped muscle while the others took long drinks from their water bottles. The sun was definitely hot now, and Radek loosened his own jacket.
William turned on his heel, surveying the square. “Residential?” he asked, and Ronon glared at him.
“Yeah.”
“A nice neighborhood,” William said, almost to himself, looking over the top of his glasses at the lines of the roofs.
“It used to be,” Ronon said, and his voice was grim.
“I believe I was here once,” Teyla began, and looked at Ronon. “But no matter.”
Radek looked up at them, the pain in his leg forgotten. There was a baffled anger in Ronon’s face that made him wince in sympathy. “When I was a little boy,” he said, groping for the words. “The town I grew up in had been bombed in the war. There had been a German manufacturing plant there, and the center of the city was destroyed with it. I was not yet born, of course, but I heard the stories. Three nights of raids, with a bomber’s moon high in the sky, and everyone huddling in their cellars not knowing what they wished except to survive.”
William nodded, familiar quick sympathy, but Radek was watching Ronon, saw the hint of curiosity. Behind the Satedan, Teyla nodded gravely, and Radek wondered what stories Sheppard had told her, while they were trapped on Earth.
“We had been conquered by our enemy,” he said, his eyes on Ronon. “So we wished to see them beaten, and yet the cost…” He shrugged. “The new town, the center that everyone was so proud of, it was gone. The Old Town was shattered, and the people were gone, and there were streets filled to the second floors of the houses with broken stone. But by the time I was born… When I was very little, there were empty cellars, wrecked houses, and we were told never to play in them, or we would drown or be buried alive. By the time I was in school, the cellars were filled in, and my grandmother had a garden again. My uncle built his house where there had been a drygoods shop.” He hesitated, shrugged again. “It is possible to rebuild. And Cai is making a good beginning, I think.”
“It won’t be the same,” Ronon said.
“No,” Radek agreed. “But it will exist.”
Ronon turned away, the heavy dreadlocks flying. Radek sighed, and took a long drink from his water bottle. His leg was feeling better, and he couldn’t help thinking perhaps he should not have said anything.
“Let us move on,” Teyla said, after a moment.
Radek tucked his bottle back into the pack and began to haul himself to his feet, but to his surprise Ronon turned and held out his hand. Radek took it, grateful for the support as he got his knee working again, and Ronon said, “Thanks.”
I meant it, Radek wanted to say, but they both knew that. He nodded instead, and settled the P90 more comfortably against his chest.
They came up to the Museum by the back way, or so Ronon said — the street that had been the intended approach was still blocked by a collapsed building, and this was easier, if a little longer. Even from the back, the building was impressive: a long stretch of once-pale stone, fire-streaked now in places, the severe line of windows gaping empty. Everything was sharp, straight lines, except for the dome that rose from the center of the building. There had been statues once at the four corners of that central portion, but only fragments remained. It looked vaguely German, Radek thought — pre-war, pre-Hitler German — except for the lines of Satedan script carved into the band of stone that marked the division between the first and second stories.
“What does that say?” William asked, and Ronon looked over his shoulder, impatient.
“It’s the names of the city districts, and the suburbs. It’s the Museum of the City.”
“Ah.” William had his camera out, was recording the facade with practiced ease.
“This door is open,” Teyla said. She looked at Ronon. “Is this the best way in?”
He hesitated, frowning as though he was trying to remember — or, more likely, Radek thought, trying to match what was still here with what had been. The door was open, certainly: it was missing altogether, the frame scorched and blackened. The stone to either side was pockmarked by shrapnel. A bomb, then, rather than fire, and that was a good thing.
“Yeah.” Ronon closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. If we go in here, we should be able to go straight to the main hall, and then the Hall of the Ancients will be to the left…”
“Let us go,” Teyla said. She touched the switch that activated the P90’s light, and stepped through the broken doorway. Radek took a breath, and did the same. Ronon followed, looking over his shoulder.
“Dr. Lynn!”
“Coming.”
Radek swung his P90 carefully from side to side, letting the light pick out the details. They were in what looked like a service corridor, part of the museum’s functional space, not any of the exhibit halls. Here, by the doorway, there was plaster down, and cracked floors; to the right, another door hung half off its hinges, and the room beyond it was half filled with debris, chunks of plaster and a fallen beam covering what looked like a desk and chairs. Not far ahead, though, the damage was considerably less, and he let the light play over the supporting walls, assessing their stability. They looked remarkably solid, considering, and he picked his way carefully over the debris.
“I think this way is safe,” he said, and Teyla nodded.
“Ronon, you said we should go straight here?”
“Yeah.” Ronon stepped past them, blaster loose in his hand, like an extension of his arm. Teyla shifted to let her light play ahead of him down the corridor. It ended in a dark green door — a padded door, Radek saw, as they came closer, and guessed it must lead into the exhibit area. He shifted his own light to check the stability of the wall and ceiling.
“OK,” he said, and Ronon shifted his blaster to his left hand to try the latch.
To everyone’s surprise, the door opened smoothly, without even a whisper of metal on metal. Sunlight poured in, blinding, and for an instant Radek could see only a riot of color. And then his sight cleared, and the colors resolved to a vividly patterned tile floor — like an Oriental carpet in stone — and the peeling remains of painting on a carved pillar. Beyond the pillars was an open atrium, and multi-colored glass from the broken skylights glittered against the patterned stone. A bird scolded, and there was a whir of wings as it launched itself from among the pillars. It was pigeon-sized, and gray-blue, and Radek couldn’t help laughing at the sight.
“Not more pigeons.”
To his surprise, Ronon gave a rueful smile. “Choua. They’re everywhere.”
“Evidently.” That was William, looking with disapproval at a deposit of droppings at the base of one of the columns.
Teyla’s eyes were laughing, but her voice was grave. “I believe there are symbols from the DHD on the doorway here. Perhaps it leads to the Ancient collection?”
“Right.” Ronon looked around again. “Yeah. Through there.”
The corridor led back into the dark. Radek flicked his light back on, looked over his shoulder to see William carefully filming the doorway and its symbols. They were the familiar markings from the DHD, all right, and Sateda’s address arched above the doorway, the rest of the patterns trailing down the sides. The ones closest to the floor were damaged, the paint flaking away, but the words on the lintel had been carved too deeply to be erased in a mere decade.
“What does it say?” William asked, and Ronon looked back, impatient.
“Hall of the Ancients, Ancestors of Humanity. Come on.”
William made a soft sound that might have meant anything, but put the camera aside. Radek let his light play along the corridor’s walls. There had been fire here, he thought, perhaps the flash of a bomb; the paint was scorched in spots, dark and peeling, and when he checked overhead, there were only beams and emptiness where a ceiling had been.
“Here’s the Stargate,” William said, pointing to the wall. The circle of his flashlight caught a panel that was mostly intact, the gate standing empty in the center of a field, a few humans gathered by the DHD.
“And here also,” Teyla said. She let the light of her P90 play across the opposite wall, picking out a similar scene. This time, Radek thought he recognized some of the buildings surrounding the gate.
“That is here, the gate square, yes?”
“A history — it’s a history of Satedan gate use, right?” William swung his light back and forth, scanning the murals. “Oh, and that’s nice. The frames are the Stargate itself.”
Ronon was staring at him, and he shrugged.
“I suppose that’s what the captions say? You’ll have to teach me your alphabet, I hate being illiterate.”
“Perhaps later,” Teyla said, reluctantly. “Is that — ?”
She stopped abruptly, eyes widening. Radek lifted his P90 in reflex, joining its light to hers.
The corridor ended in an arched doorway, and through its opening the lights flashed from glass and metal. Display cases, Radek thought, some broken, some intact — and then he saw it, too, the tripod of a portable lamp, a coil of rope and a woven basket, and the breath caught in his throat.
“Someone’s been here.”
“Did Cai mention anyone else?” Ronon asked.
Teyla shook her head. “He did not.”
“This is recent,” Radek said. The plaster dust had been swept off the cases, and the floor was relatively clean. He let the light play around the room again, picking out more display cases, metal and crystal glittering within, found a shuttered window. It looked as though it had been repaired, and he crossed to it, eased it back. The sunlight poured into the room in an almost solid wedge, dust dancing in its beam, and his breath caught again at the sight of the display cases. There were two ranks of them, stretching the length of the hall; on the walls to either side were more murals, scenes of what must be Ancient history alternating with stylized starscapes. At the end of the hall, part of the ceiling had fallen — nothing structural, just lathe and plaster and perhaps some light boards — and the display cases were broken but not crushed beneath it. Most of the rest were intact, and he saw what looked like a lifesigns detector laid between the panels of a lamp and the cracked crystal from a control board.
“This is Genii,” William said. He crouched beside the basket, poking cautiously at its contents. “The equivalent of an MRE.” He held up a box with unfamiliar lettering.
Teyla frowned. “Perhaps this has been here some time?”
William shook his head. “This says it was packed three months ago.”
Ronon lifted an eyebrow. “You can read Genii and not Satedan?”
“It seemed relevant at the time,” William answered. He set the box carefully back into the basket, stood up, dusting his hands on his thighs. “Food and water. I think they’re planning to come back.”
“That’s not good,” Ronon said.
“No.” Teyla turned slowly, surveying the room. “I think — this all looks valuable and important, and I think we need to examine it closely. But I would also like to know what the Genii are doing here. If they are still here at all.”
“I agree,” Ronon said. He took a breath. “We split up. Zelenka, Dr. Lynn, take stock of what’s here, collect anything that’s useful. Teyla, let’s you and me see if we can find any Genii.”
Teyla followed Ronon back to the hall with the atrium, frowning at the tracks they had left on the dusty floor.
“If the Genii are still here,” she began, and Ronon nodded.
“Yeah. I know. Let’s hope they’re not.”
There wasn’t anything to say to that, at least nothing that did not sound more critical than she meant. And she was to blame as much as anyone: she had trusted Cai — still more than half trusted him, if it came to that, and she frowned again. Everything he had said had seemed honest; she could not point to a moment when she had thought, he is concealing something, even in the details of their bargaining. That was disconcerting, and she put it aside, to be dealt with later. She would get answers from Cai on their return.
The atrium gave onto another, smaller hall, this one lined with pillars carved like kneeling men, taking the weight of the ceiling on their shoulders. The dome they had seen from outside rose overhead, a dozen round windows piercing its surface. The glass was missing, and the hall was full of leaves and the damp tracks of rain and wind. And of humans, she saw, and in the same moment Ronon pointed.
“They came in this way.”
“Or someone did,” Teyla said.
Ronon stooped to examine the marks. “Looks like Genii boots to me.”
“Can you tell how long ago they were here?”
Ronon straightened, shaking his head. “Not more than a week ago — maybe as recently as yesterday, depending on the weather.” He met her eyes. “Cai should have told us.”
Teyla nodded. “Yes. And still — Ronon, I trusted him. I don’t know what to think.”
“Maybe we can get some answers from the Genii,” Ronon said, with a sudden smile.
“Perhaps,” Teyla answered. “But — we should be cautious.”
“Absolutely,” Ronon said. He looked around again. “This way. There’s a side door we can use.”
Radek walked the length of the Hall of the Ancients, glancing from case to case. He recognized perhaps half of their contents, recognized that some of the items weren’t even Ancient — that odd silver sphere, half crushed, looked almost Asgard — and his fingers itched to examine them more closely.
“Don’t even think of it,” William said, without looking up from his camera, and Radek muttered a Czech curse under his breath. “We need to make a record first.”
“We may not have time for that,” Radek said. “Not if the Genii are here.”
“We know they have been here,” William said. “Not that they’re here now.”
“And that they’re planning to come back,” Radek pointed out. “You said that yourself.”
“Yeah, OK, I did say that.” William straightened, took a breath. “Priorities?”
Radek gave the Asgard sphere a last regretful look. “Undamaged Ancient objects. Things that we can maybe use on Atlantis.”
“Control crystals?”
“Have you found some?” Radek moved to join the other man at a long case that had stood against the wall. It gaped open now, the shards of glass covering the long, pale blue crystals that lay on the stained velvet.
“Yes — ”
“No, we have plenty of those,” Radek said. “And, look, see there? Most of them are cracked.”
“Well, it was a start,” William said. “These?” He pointed to the next case, where a scattering of smaller crystals were laid out in a spreading fan-shape, bright against a soft dark-red backing. There were gaps in the sequence, crystals replaced by plasticine models, but Radek caught his breath again.
“Yes. Oh, yes. Those we should take.”
“I’ll make a list,” William said. “See what we have, and then we can take as much as we can carry. The most important things first.”
There was a park next to the museum, where saplings were beginning to spring from the broken trunks of the old trees. At the far end of the green space, a thread of smoke was rising between two ruined buildings — clean smoke, cooking smoke, and Teyla looked at Ronon.
“I thought Cai said all his people were staying by the gate.”
“He did.” Ronon flicked his blaster from stun to kill and back again. “It could be somebody else. Somebody Satedan, I mean.”
“It could,” Teyla agreed.
“Yeah. I don’t think so, either.” Ronon looked around, surveying the broken ground. “If we move north along the edge of the park, we’ll be in cover most of the way.”
Teyla nodded. “Our main goal is to find out if the Genii are here. Not to engage them.”
“I know!” Ronon glared at her, and she met his stare squarely. He sighed, and looked away. “I know.”
“And then we will have a conversation with Ushan Cai,” she said.
“Yeah.” Ronon looked happier at the thought, and pointed along the crumbling facade of a long low building. “That way.”
The sprouting trees screened them from the distant camp for most of the way. The smell of the smoke was stronger, wood and cooking, and Teyla wished she’d had more than a power bar when they had stopped earlier. But that was pointless, a weakness, and she put it aside with the ease of long practice. She could see the tip of a canvas tent between the buildings, white in the sunlight, and Ronon came to a stop behind a broken set of stairs.
“Looks like the Genii to me,” he said, softly.
Teyla reached into her pockets, pulled out a pair of the Earth people’s binoculars, and eased forward to peer over the edge of the stones. The tent did look like Genii work, the odd mix of primitive and sophisticated that they now showed the rest of the galaxy — and, yes, the man stirring the kettle slung over the campfire was wearing a Genii uniform. Another man was sitting on a three-legged stool outside a second tent, working on some piece of equipment, but there was no one else in sight.
“That cannot be all their people,” she said, and Ronon shook his head.
“No.”
Teyla lifted the glasses to her eyes again, scanning the camp a second time. It looked as though they had been in the Museum — surely that metal crate was Ancient work — and she reached for her radio. “Radek. Radek, come in.”
“I want to get a little closer,” Ronon said, and slipped forward without waiting for an answer.
“Radek,” Teyla said again. “This is Teyla. The Genii are here in the city, and may be coming your way.” She paused, waiting for an answer, some acknowledgement, and none came.
Ronon signaled, and she moved to join him, crouching low.
“I’m guessing maybe six, ten men all told — ” he began, and she lifted her hand.
“I am not getting a response from Radek.”
“Damn it,” Ronon muttered. He looked at the Museum, then back at the camp.
“We should go back,” Teyla said.
“Yeah.” Ronon didn’t move, and in the same moment, the tent flap was flung aside, and a slender red-haired woman stepped out into the sunlight. Her uniform jacket was open to the waist in the warm air, showing a pale undershirt. “Is that — ?”
“Yes,” Teyla said. “Sora Tyrus.” She touched her radio again. “Radek. Respond, please.” Ronon looked at her, and she shook her head. “Nothing.”
Ronon met her eyes. “Back to the Museum.”
They were getting toward the end of the hall, and Radek shook his head in frustration. The list was already too long for them to take everything that was on it, and it was obvious that this end, where the ceiling had come down, was where the curators had displayed their largest pieces. He ducked under a beam, crouched to see into the next case. It was bigger than the others had been, perhaps a meter long and half a meter deep; two of its legs had broken when part of the ceiling fell on it, and the body of the case sloped down and away from him. He checked the heavy wedge of plaster, and when he was sure it was secure, worked himself further into the debris so that he could see into the case.
It was beautiful. That was his first thought, incoherent and startled. It had been lovely enough on Atlantis even burnt-out and cracked; the intact array caught the light from his flashlight, reflected it back in a cloud of multi-colored stars. It couldn’t possibly be — but it was, it definitely was a hyperdrive control array, the missing crystal, the one that had blown out on them and dumped them onto an unnamed world, and he sat back on his heels, swearing in Czech.
“Was that an invitation?” William asked, working his way through the rubble after him, and stopped. “That — that looks important.”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” Radek pushed his glasses up onto his nose, still not quite able to believe what he was seeing. “This — whatever happens, William, this has to get back to Atlantis.”
For a second, he thought the other would object, but William nodded slowly. “All right. What is it?”
“One of the major control crystals for the hyperdrive,” Radek said. He was almost afraid to say it out loud, for fear it might somehow vanish. “With this — and a ZPM, of course — we can fly the city again.”
William stuffed the notebook into his pocket, pulled out his flashlight. “It’s really beautiful. Very sculptural.”
The doubled lights drew more colors from interior facets, thin sheets of color like the aurora playing inside the crystal. Reflections danced on the walls, on the fallen ceiling, sparks that drew bits of color from the paintings. The Satedan curators might not have known what they had, but they had taken good care of it, secured it against the padding so that even the collapse of the display hadn’t jarred it loose. Reluctantly, Radek turned his beam away from the array, scanned the case and the straps that held the crystal in place. It would take some planning to get it out safely, but he thought he could do it —
“Hang on,” William said. “I thought I heard something.”
Radek cocked his head, listening. For a second, there was nothing, but then he heard it, too, the unmistakable sound of booted feet on the stone floors. “Crap.”
“Not our people,” William said nervously.
Radek said something stronger in Czech, swung his flashlight around again, looking for a way out. There was only one entrance to the hall, and if they could hear the Genii coming — because it had to be the Genii — it was too late to get out that way. His light struck the edge of a doorway, the frame picked out with DHD symbols; there was another beam down in front of it, but if the door opened away from them… He was already moving, ducking under first one beam and then another, William scrambling at his heels. There was just enough room to stand upright inside the last beam, and he quickly checked the door, praying it wasn’t locked, praying it opened the right way. He worked the latch and pushed hard, and to his relief the door scraped open half a meter, loosing a shower of plaster.
“Quick, inside.”
William slipped past him, pistol in one hand, flashlight in the other. “It’s — not very big. Some sort of storage — ”
“Be quiet,” Radek said, and stepped in after him. William flattened himself against the back wall — it was covered with narrow shelves that were crammed with boxes, and Radek managed to work the door almost closed again. “Turn out your light.”
William obeyed, and Radek did the same. The P90 was heavy against his chest, and he worked it awkwardly into position, elbowing William hard in the process. The archeologist grunted, shifted so that he could aim his pistol over the shorter man’s shoulder. The footsteps were coming closer, louder and more distinct. Definitely more than one person, Radek thought, craning to see through the crack he’d left in the door, and — yes, definitely Genii. There was a thump as someone dropped something, and then the rattle of someone shedding equipment.
“Well?” William’s voice was barely a breath in his ear.
“Ssh.”
William shifted uncomfortably. They were so close in the dark that Radek could feel the pressure of William’s hip, feel him breathing, the quick movement of his chest.
“Radek.” That was Teyla’s voice in his ear, the radio he’d forgotten until now, and he jumped, reached hastily to shut it off, not daring to risk anyone else hearing. They would contact her later, when the Genii had left — though it sounded as though they were settling in for the day. He could hear voices now, soft conversation, though he couldn’t quite make out the words. If they had to stay here for more than an hour or two — already his leg was starting to ache. It would cramp soon enough, and then he’d have trouble walking, wouldn’t be able to keep up if they needed to move fast.
The unmistakable crackle of a Genii radio cut through his rising fear.
“Team one, this is base. Report.” It was a woman’s voice, and Radek swore again. Surely their luck couldn’t be running this badly.
“Team one here,” a man answered. “It looks as though the Satedans have been back here, Sora. Someone’s been checking on what we’re doing.”
Radek felt William shift again, heard the breath of a curse, and felt like swearing himself. Of course they’d left tracks, marks in the dust; probably they hadn’t put the Genii supplies back exactly the way they’d been. And of course it was Sora.
“Any damage?” the woman asked.
“No. Just looking around.”
There was a little pause, and then the woman’s voice said, “Right. We can’t have that. Head back to camp, we need to have a talk with Cai.”
“We could still get some work done,” the man protested.
“Negative. We need to establish our position. Head back now. Base out.”
One of the Genii said something that had to be a curse, and the man who’d been on the radio raised his voice. “Roal! Come on out of there. We’re heading back to camp.”
Radek closed his eyes, feeling almost faint with relief. They stood listening for what seemed like hours as the Genii team recovered their equipment and moved reluctantly away. When he was sure they were out of earshot, he risked lighting his watch, counted off ten minutes before he took a slow breath and reached for the door.
“I think we can go now,” he said, and felt William nod.
“Go ahead. I’ll cover you.”
“This is insane,” Radek said under his breath, and pulled the door open again. The hall was empty, sunlight pouring in through the half opened shutter. He worked his knee, and took a cautious step. It hurt, but the leg held his weight, and he turned back to see William playing his flashlight over the shelves of boxes. “William — ”
“Hang on,” William said, and Radek touched his radio.
“Teyla. Teyla, this is Radek.”
“Radek!” Teyla sounded relieved. “There are Genii in this area — ”
“Yes, I know. They were here, and left — they were heading back to their camp. They did not see us.”
“Good,” Teyla said. “We must head back to the gate. Ronon wishes to have a word with Ushan Cai.”
“I am sure he does,” Radek said, and was rewarded by a chuckle.
“We will meet at the square where we stopped before,” Teyla said. “Can you get there?”
Radek glanced at the hyperdrive array still untouched in its case. It wasn’t that heavy, wasn’t much bigger than a football, and they had brought carriers that would protect it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see William stuffing what looked like decks of playing cards into every available pocket. “Yes. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Be careful,” Teyla said, and cut the transmission.
By the time the team made it back to the gate square, the smell of cooking was in the air there too, and there were people crossing the square, apparently going about business of their own but giving Ronon and the rest of the team frankly curious glances. Ronon stopped the first person who came near enough to speak to, a woman in work clothes with her hair pinned up at the back of her neck. “Where’s Cai?”
“I think he’s in the old hotel,” she said. “He was talking to — talking to some people.”
The line of Teyla’s mouth tightened, and Ronon knew what she was thinking. If the Genii had gotten here before them, they could still wind up in a fight. He waved the woman on and looked at the scientists. Radek was cradling the case that held the hyperdrive crystal as if he didn’t trust it not to fall apart at any moment, or possibly just as if he didn’t trust himself not to trip and drop it.
“Lynn, dial the gate to New Athos,” Ronon said. “You and Zelenka take this stuff back there and wait until you can dial in to Atlantis.” He wasn’t finding it easy to get used to having to wait for the brief windows when they’d arranged to be able to dial in. “We’ll stay and talk to Cai.”
“I should stay too, I think,” Radek said evenly, handing the case to Lynn, who took it with a bemused expression. “One is not much backup, even if that one is Teyla. Of course, there are the Marine teams, but they are some distance away, and if Sora is here…” He shrugged expressively.
Ronon glanced at Teyla. He didn’t think she’d find Radek that much use if it came to a fight, and he expected her to tell him so.
“You are right,” Teyla said instead. “Our teams are still at the factory, and they must finish their work, especially if we are not to stay here long. We will warn them that there may be trouble, but I will not call them back to the gate yet. So, yes, stay.” She nodded at Radek, who shrugged a little awkwardly.
“Then perhaps I should stay as well,” Lynn said.
“We need that hyperdrive array back in Atlantis no matter what,” Radek said. Lynn was holding the hyperdrive crystal case more normally by its handle, his camera still in his other hand, and Radek gave him a dark look as if suspecting that he wasn’t taking proper care, although Lynn didn’t strike Ronon as a careless person. “It is our best chance of ever being able to fly the city again — ”
“Yes, so you already explained,” Lynn said fairly mildly. “All right, then. Anything in particular you want me to say other than giving a report on what happened here?”
“Tell Colonel Sheppard that we’ll check in again within the hour,” Ronon said. “If he doesn’t hear from us — ”
“Then he’ll know it’s time to send in the cavalry,” Lynn said. “I’ll tell him.” He set off across the square toward the gate.
“You and Zelenka wait out here, then,” Ronon told Teyla. “I’ll get more out of Cai by myself.”
Teyla didn’t argue, although her expression was skeptical. He didn’t know if that was because she didn’t trust his skill at talking, or because she suspected he intended to fight rather than talk. It was certainly tempting.
He felt a knot of unreasonable betrayal curling in his chest as he stepped into the dimly-lit hotel. He shouldn’t have let himself be so glad to see his own people here rebuilding that he let himself believe in strangers. He should have known it was too good to be true, should have expected the whole thing to be some kind of dirty trick —
He set his jaw and threw open the door to the hotel bar with a clatter. Cai looked up, startled at the sound, and then met Ronon’s eyes, his face closed. There’d apparently been some kind of disagreement in here recently; there were overturned tables, one of which Cai had been in the process of setting to rights, and drinks spilled across the floor.
Ronon drew his pistol and leveled it at Cai’s chest. “So you’re working for the Genii.”
Cai set the table down squarely on its feet before he answered. “I’m not working for the Genii,” he said.
“Liar,” Ronon said. “We know they’re here.”
“They’ve been here for half a year,” Cai said. “They have their own camps at several places in the city. At first they were mainly after weapons. They were talking about getting some of the munitions factories working again. Exploring the museum is new. That’s Sora’s project.”
“You know Sora.”
“She says she’s in charge of Genii operations on Sateda.”
“And you work for her?”
“I work for the Satedan people.”
“Yeah, it’s really going to help them to sell Sateda to the Genii.”
Cai actually laughed, an unexpected bitter bark that made Ronon’s finger tighten on the pistol’s trigger. “Sell it? The Genii don’t have to buy anything here. They’ve claimed the planet, Ronon. They say they’re taking over.”
“And you let them?”
“I’m not a soldier,” Cai said. “What have the soldiers who escaped Sateda done? Found work as mercenaries? Killing people is a surprisingly marketable skill. Become heroes fighting the Wraith?”
Ronon didn’t lower the pistol. “So?”
“They’ve built lives somewhere. They’re not desperate to get back to Sateda. Any world will take in good soldiers or good farmers. Good carpenters, even. But what do you think the rest of us had to offer out there?” Cai’s voice was tired. “I owned a factory. I spent most of my days sitting behind a table and the rest on the factory floor. I never fired a gun or plowed a field or dug a ditch. I had a dozen mechanical engineers working for me. What do you think they did on planets where the horse collar would be a breakthrough? Plowed fields, maybe. Dug ditches. Badly.”
“Sure, but — ”
Cai kept talking, like maybe he’d been wanting to say all this for a while. “I had a secretary, typists, clerks. Do you know of anywhere that needs typists now, or hairdressers, or radio operators?” He shook his head. “That’s who came back, Ronon. People who’d lost everything they had. Not just their possessions and their families but their usefulness.”
“Like you?”
“Like me,” Cai said flatly. “It took me ten years to figure out that being able to manage people, being a good salesman… that much I still had. That’s how I convinced these people to come back here. But they’re ordinary people, not soldiers. The Genii sent a regiment of soldiers through the Ring. If we’d tried to fight, it would have been nothing to them to kill us all. And I couldn’t let that happen to these people. I’m responsible for them. I’m not sure why they want me to be, but they do, and I am.”
“You sent us to the museum,” Ronon said after a moment. “You set us up.”
“I didn’t know they were working there today,” Cai said. “We try to steer clear of their people as much as we can.”
“That’s not the point,” Ronon said. “Why didn’t you tell us about the Genii?”
Cai reached for one of the other overturned tables, ignoring the way Ronon’s pistol twitched to follow him. He set it upright, squaring it with the others in the row instead of looking at Ronon. “You?” he said. “The greatest living Satedan hero, the great warrior against the Wraith? And here we sit, unable to keep the Genii from squatting in our cities and robbing our dead.” He looked up, finally. “What do you think? We were too ashamed.”
The words hung in the silence for a moment, and finally Ronon lowered his pistol. “You did what you could,” he said. “You brought our people back to Sateda.”
“I did,” Cai said, raising his chin a little. “And now we can finally be rid of the Genii. Compared to the Wraith, they ought to be easy for you and the Lanteans to handle.”
“Compared to the Wraith,” Ronon said, “but — ”
“The Genii don’t own Sateda,” Cai said. “The Lanteans have a reputation for being a fair people, and you call some of them friends. Surely you can bring their soldiers to help us.”
“It’s complicated,” Ronon said.
“Not so complicated,” Cai said. “We can make Sateda a world we recognize again. Our children will see the trains running again and have electric lights. Our grandchildren will have hospitals and factories and music on the radio. But none of that is going to happen if this world becomes a military outpost for the Genii. They’ll take everything they can use and build their great bombs here so that if the Wraith find out, it won’t be their world that gets burned to the ground.”
It was all too easy to believe, especially knowing that the Genii had been poisoning their own people with their experiments with radioactive materials. They’d probably like the idea of poisoning somewhere they didn’t care about that much instead.
It would be easy to promise that of course they’d help. The Genii didn’t have any right to be on Sateda, and even if Woolsey might have thought it was somehow more complicated than that, Ronon didn’t think that John would. But the Genii were supposed to be their allies, and it wasn’t up to Ronon to decide whether the alliance was starting to be more trouble than it was worth.
“I have to talk to my commander,” Ronon said. “I can’t make any promises about something like this without his authority.”
“That’s fair,” Cai said. “I know your reputation even if I don’t know you, and what I’ve heard makes me trust that you’ll do whatever it takes to help your people.”
“I will,” Ronon said, but he couldn’t help feeling like this wasn’t going to be simple at all.