Homecoming

Chapter Twenty-four Strange Bedfellows

“Not being able to think of a better idea doesn’t make this a good one,” Rodney said.

Sheppard spared him a single harassed glance as he lowered the jumper into the gate room. It was a fair statement, and had been the first five times Rodney had made it, but he was getting a little tired of hearing it. “Since you’re not coming up with an alternative,” he said, “I think we’ll just go with Plan A.”

Behind him, Ronon laughed softly. “Until we need Plan B.”

“Rodney has a point,” Teyla began, then seemed to realize that she had said that before, too. “We do have a Plan B, do we not?”

“Of course,” Sheppard said. “OK, dialing the gate.”

The symbols lit and the wormhole whooshed open. Sheppard took a deep breath, and eased the jumper forward. He engaged the cloak as soon as they cleared the gate, braced for fire that didn’t come, and brought the jumper up and around in a quick spiral intended to put height between them and any ground fire. The plain was empty, grass the color of lilacs streaming toward the horizon, and he swung back again, circling the gate and its high stone pad.

“Anything?”

“No — wait.” Rodney touched keys, frowning at his screen. “There’s a Wraith cruiser in orbit — a little one, definitely not a hive and not even one of the big cruisers. And a shuttle on the ground about five kilometers south of the gate. I’m picking up four lifesigns — four Wraith.”

Sheppard bit his lip, bringing the jumper back to about a hundred feet. The heads-up display obligingly located the shuttle for him, just where Rodney had said, and Sheppard slowed the jumper until they were almost hovering. “Weapons?”

“Powered down,” Rodney answered. “Not that it’ll take them that long to get them working—”

“Let’s give them a call,” Sheppard said.

“Are you crazy?” Rodney didn’t even look up from his screens. “Then they’ll know exactly where we are…”

“They’re expecting us anyway,” Sheppard said. “Just do it.”

Rodney muttered something, and touched keys again. “OK.”

“Todd,” Sheppard said. “You there? It’s Sheppard.”

There was a long silence, just the hiss of the radio, and then, just as Sheppard was about to speak again, a light flashed on the HUD.

“Sheppard. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Sheppard said. “Listen, Todd. I’m going to land two kilometers north of your shuttle, and start walking. You do the same. We’ll meet in the middle.”

There was a sound that might have been a chuckle. “Agreed.”

The wind was steady at their backs as they left the jumper, the pale grass bending gracefully before them. Sheppard glanced over his shoulder to be sure they weren’t leaving a trail, but the thick stems were not as close together as they’d looked from the air, and were a lot tougher, too. He could see the dark figures of the Wraith wading through the grass, two males in the long coats, a pair of drones trailing behind. As they came together, he recognized Todd in the lead, and heard Teyla cock her P90. Todd heard it too, and bared teeth.

“So, Sheppard. I’m pleased we can have a quiet discussion.”

“You said you knew where this queen of yours was going to Cull,” Sheppard said. “I’d like to hear about that.”

Behind Todd, the other male snarled soundlessly. He was slighter than Todd, with his hair pulled up and back in one of those elaborate hairstyles that made Sheppard wonder how long it took the Wraith to get ready for a fight. Todd ignored him, however, and Sheppard tried to do the same. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ronon’s thumb moving on the grip of his blaster, and hoped everybody would just stay calm a little longer.

“I’m sure you would,” Todd said. “But information of such value—”

“Is worth a high price,” Sheppard interrupted. “Except that it probably isn’t, given our track record. The last few times you’ve given us anything — well, it never works out quite the way you said.”

Todd tipped his head to one side, the movement not quite a shrug, and made a sound like humming. “You cannot really complain about our last dealings.”

“Much.”

“You could hardly expect me to stay.”

“Cut to the chase,” Sheppard said, and the Wraith tipped his head to the side again.

“It would benefit us greatly to know what you’ve discovered about the Hoffan disease. It seems to me that would be a fair price for preventing such a Culling — and to your advantage in any case, since the disease has such unfortunate effects on its human hosts as well—”

“Maybe,” Sheppard said. “I’d want to be sure your information was good first.”

“Oh, come now, Sheppard,” Todd said. “Surely we’re not at a stalemate already.”

“Give us the planet,” Sheppard said. “If it checks out, we’ll leave the data here, unencrypted. You can pick it up at your convenience.”

“You’re asking me to take a great deal on trust,” Todd said.

“Let’s just say we’ve leaned to be cautious,” Sheppard answered.

There was a little pause, and then Todd nodded. “Very well. I agree. The planet is Levanna — she will know it.”

Sheppard glanced sideways, and saw Teyla nod. “I do,” she said. “We have traded there once or twice.”

“When?” Sheppard saw the other Wraith male snarl again, and tightened his grip on the P90.

“Within three days. No sooner, and possibly one or two days longer. But that is the earliest she can attack.” Todd paused, and one corner of his mouth curled up in something like a smile. If any of you survive, I expect you to keep this bargain, Sheppard.”

“If it pans out,” Sheppard answered. “We’re done here.”

They left the way they had come, backing away through the grass until they were at a safe enough distance for the others to turn and face the jumper. Sheppard walked backward a little while longer, not quite able to believe that they were actually going to get offworld without there being any shooting. Even after they were completely out of range, he kept glancing back, watching the black-coated figures get smaller and smaller against the lilac grass.

“This was way too easy,” Rodney said.

“Yeah.” Ronon looked like he wanted to kick something, but there weren’t even any stones underfoot.

“I know,” Sheppard said, and Teyla gave him a wry smile.

“Yes. Something has been left unsaid. But — what else can we do?”

There had been a lot of changes since the last time Ronon had been on Levanna. That had been a training mission, his unit sent as escort for a diplomatic mission to an old and friendly trading partner, where they couldn’t do much harm even if they did get drunk and forget discipline. Which they hadn’t done, because their sergeant had threatened them with disembowelment if they’d so much as put a toe out of line… But then the gate had been well outside the capital, in a barren field a good mile from the crumbling city wall. Now a well-traveled road cut through the field, and the city’s buildings had crept outside the walls, the nearest no more then three hundred yards from the gate. There was a building by the gate, too, a guard post and what looked like an inn, and there were half a dozen soldiers waiting at the base of the gate platform. They had different uniforms, narrow coats in a serviceable shade of indigo with tall plumed hats, and they each had an effective-looking musket lowered at the ready. Ronon’s fingers itched, seeing that, but you couldn’t really blame them, these days.

“Whoa,” Sheppard said, his hands twitching on the stock of his P90, and Teyla hastily stitched her best smile onto her face.

“I am Teyla Emmagan, of Athos. I have traded here before—”

“Dex? Is that you?”

Ronon looked up sharply, to see a woman emerging from the guardpost. She was wearing the new Levannan uniform, with the most gold lace he’d seen so far, but she was unmistakable. “Sergeant Daileass?”

“My God! Ronon Dex!” She stopped, hands on hips, shaking her head, but there was a big grin on her face. “So these must be the Lanteans.”

“Yeah.”

Sheppard gave him a pointed look. “Ronon. Why don’t you introduce us?”

“Yeah. Sorry.” Ronon straightened, trying to drag his mind back to the present. He’d assumed Daileass was long dead — the last he’d heard, she was still with the training battalions, and they’d been pretty much wiped out. “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan.” He paused. “I’m guessing you’re not a sergeant any more.”

Daileass grinned. “Major Imbra Daileass. Satedan Guard of the Royal Republican Army.”

Satedan Guard? Ronon thought. Royal Republican Army? There had been a lot more changes than just the landscape, then. He glanced at Teyla and saw the same realization in her eyes.

Daileass’s smile faded. “But I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about old times.”

“Afraid not.” Sheppard shook his head for emphasis. “We’ve received some intel, Major, that suggests the Wraith are planning an attack here.”

“A Culling, or an attack?” Daileass asked, and Ronon nodded to himself. She’d always been quick to see the essentials.

“More than a Culling,” Teyla said. “We believe that what is intended is like the attack on Manaria.”

“Damn.” Daileass gestured to one of her men, who produced a small whistle. “Then you’d better speak to the general.”

“The king no longer reigns, then?” Teyla asked cautiously.

“There’s been a change of regime,” Daileass said. “General Valles is in command.”

Sheppard said, “Thanks. We’d like to talk to him.”

The signal whistle summoned a horse-drawn carriage, and Daileass dispatched a rider to warn the general of their impending arrival. McKay jibed for a moment at the carriage door, complaining about the effect of the suspension, or lack of suspension, on his back, and it was all Ronon could do not to pick him up bodily and deposit him into the closest seat. From the look on Sheppard's face, he was thinking the same thing, and Ronon could see Daileass trying to smother a grin. He scowled at McKay was annoying sometimes, but he was pretty much as indispensable as he said and she looked away. Then they were all inside, and the carriage lurched into motion with only the smallest of complaints from McKay.

Ronon wedged himself into the corner of the seat across from Daileass, who banged on the ceiling in signal, and settled back herself. He was aware of Sheppard's stare, and saw the colonel mouth talk to her when he thought he was out of Daileass' line of sight.

Right, Ronon thought. It was logical, it was what he should be doing, helping get information, and he cleared his throat. So, he said. Lot of changes, huh?

Yeah. Daileass laughed. But you are talking about here, right?

Ronon nodded. Satedan Guard?

If the Royal Republican Army, Daileass said again. We're what's left of the Ninth, the ones who were off-world when the Wraith hit Sateda, plus the rag ends of a few other units. When we saw what had happened here was nothing to go back to. The king offered us a place in the royal army, but come the revolution, we went with General Valles.

Big change, Ronon said. He is good?

Daileass nodded. He's got a brain, and then some. Lucky as hell. Took the capital without a fight walked the parliament into opening the gates to him.

What happened to the king? Ronon asked.

Daileass made a face. Dead. Parliament shot him. Don't ask anybody for details, it's a sensitive subject.

I bet it is, Rodney said, under his breath, and Sheppard punched him in the shoulder, hard enough to draw an exclamation.

He'll be discreet, Ronon said.

That would be smart, Daileass answered, and leaned back in her place.

The royal palace was pretty much everything Sheppard had expected from the uniforms, a huge, white-painted building whose upper stories were festooned with leaves and what looked like bunches of grapes, all carved from some pale peach-colored stone. The stairs that led to the main entrance were almost as wide as the facade, and the first wide hall was lined with tapestries and footmen in stiff black-and-white wigs that looked as though a skunk had died on their heads. There were plenty of non-footmen there, too, men in tight pants and gaudy coats with lots of gold lace and embroidery and women in long high-waisted dresses with bodices that looked much too small to actually conceal anything. He tried not to be too obvious about looking, but he could see Teyla smirking at him.

And then they had reached a door that was almost hidden among the painted panels. It would have been invisible if there hadn't been a pair of uniformed guards standing beside it. They came to attention at Daileass' approach, and one hastily swung the door open for her.

General, she said. The Lanteans are here.

Sheppard followed her into a room that very definitely wasn't what he expected. It wasn't very big, for a start, and one of the long windows was propped open to let in some cooler air. Most of the space was taken up by two long tables, one piled with books and papers, the other with what looked like the remnants of a war game and a sandwich platter; there were a few chairs, none of them matching, but the only people sitting were a pair of secretaries at each end of the books-and-papers table. The rest of them, half a dozen men, were standing around the tables, some with glasses in their hands, the oldest still frowning over a sheaf of papers. They were all in uniform, more of the narrow coats and the tight pants, some gaudier than others. The slightly pudgy man with the dark curls was pretty much covered in gold braid, but he wasn't that surprised when the man in the plain green coat was the one to step forward. He was short, maybe even shorter than Zelenka, with ordinary brown hair that fell loose to his collar, and a long, clean-shaven chin.

Welcome, he said. I am Safren Valless.

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. Sheppard took the hand that was held out to him, remotely surprised that Valless didn't give a testing grip, and nodded to the others. Dr. Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex. We are from Atlantis.

My council, Valless said. General Freyne, General Chacier, General Kolbyr, Colonel Olin, and Colonel Laecat.

Sheppard nodded and smiled, knowing he hadn't matched faces to names, and Valless went on, I suppose it is too much to hope it's commerce that brings you to Levanna?

I'm afraid not, Sheppard said. General, I am sorry to say, we are received intelligence that says that Levanna is the next target for Queen Death.

Damn it. That was the oldest man, one of the colonels, Sheppard thought. The big red-head said something under his breath that was definitely not fit for polite company, but Valless only grimaced.

We knew it might happen, he said, half to himself, and shook his head. Tell me what you know.

Sheppard took a deep breath, ordering his thoughts. He ran through what they knew it is fully little, laid out like this and when he finished, Valless shook his head again, but said nothing.

We not ready, the oldest colonel said. We don't have the guns, or the ammunition.

The men are ready, the curly-haired man with all the braid said, sounding vaguely indignant, and the big red-head rolled his eyes.

Which doesn't do us a damn bit of good if they don't have the right weapons. He looked at Valles. So we believe it?

We can't afford not to, the general answered. He tugged at his lower lip. Will Atlantis help us?

Our commander has authorized me to offer assistance, Sheppard said. A couple of our Marine units to support your troops.

The red-head gave him the look that deserved, and Valless smiled. We'll take what we can get, Colonel.

Woolsey is concerned that this may be a feint, Teyla said. A diversion for an attack elsewhere.

Reasonable enough, third general said. He lowered himself into one of the chairs, stretching out his left leg as though it pained him. “But Kolbyr’s right, we don’t have the guns.”

“Can we accelerate our planned purchases from the Genii?” Valles asked, and the oldest man looked up from his notes.

“We can try.”

“We could also ask them for help,” the red-head, Kolbyr, said. “See if they’ll loan us a battalion or two — machine gunners for preference.” He glanced at Sheppard. “After all, Atlantis and the Genii are allies. Or were.”

“Are,” Sheppard said, with more conviction than he felt. “We’d be happy to work with the Genii. Our concern is to protect this world.”

“Right,” Valles said. “Three days, your — source — said. Freyne, can we evacuate the city by then?”

The balding man who hadn’t yet spoken nodded slowly. “Yes. The caverns are stocked, and everyone should know their destination. But, sir. We’d better be sure this is right, or the royalists will use it against you.”

Valles waved the words away. “Heliograph the caverns, make sure they’re prepared, then sound Evacuation. Olen, contact the Genii, see if we can get more guns. And any men they’re willing to loan us. Colonel Sheppard, I would appreciate your speaking with Atlantis. Even if this is a feint — if we can damage Queen Death here, we’ll help more worlds than ours.”