The Furies

Chapter Twenty-two The Things You Leave Behind

Ronon Dex was a tough guy. Mel had watched him knock down three Marines in the gym, and she was impressed. She thought pretty much everyone was. And so the last place she expected to find him was sticking out from under a couch in one of Atlantis’ TV lounges, muttering and grumbling. She’d been looking for a place that wasn’t in use to watch a DVD, seeing as how the poker game had lost its luster. She would have just moved along if it hadn’t been for the muffled yelp. What in the hell was he doing?

“Is there a problem?” Mel asked.

Ronon righted himself, or at least looked up scowling. “It’s Keller’s cat,” he said. “I told her I’d feed the thing while she was gone, but it got away from me. I can’t get it out from under there.”

“Keller’s cat?” She hadn’t known pets were allowed in Atlantis, and they probably weren’t. But everywhere people went in the service they found pets. Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia, Kosovo — there was always a stray dog sleeping under somebody’s cot, a guy with a couple of raggedy kittens that he fussed over. Anywhere they were settled for very long there were pets, babies, or both.

“Yeah.” Ronon glared at the couch. “It’s name is Newton.” There were deep scratches on his left forearm, evidence of previous attempts to extract the cat. Probably some rough old mouser Keller had started feeding, mostly feral and untrusting.

Mel put down her DVD. “Let me have a try,” she said. “I’m kind of a cat person.”

“Watch it,” Ronon said, stepping back. “It goes for the eyes.”

Mel lay down on her stomach, turning her head sideways to glance under the low couch. Right in the middle, unreachable from both sides, a half grown Siamese kitten looked at her appraisingly, sitting like a tiny sphinx with its paws neatly folded.

Ok, not an old mouser. A kitten with too much energy to stay shut up all day.

“Hi Newton,” Mel said. “You about ready to come out from under there and play?”

The kitten meowed back discontentedly. Yep, a Siamese all right. Ready to talk about its woes.

Mel fished in her pocket and produced a ball point pen. “Hey Newton. Look. Shiny thing!” She wiggled it back and forth in front of Newton, just out of reach of its paws. “Shiny, shiny, shiny thing!”

Newton looked at her with an expression that stated louder than words that he was much too smart to fall for a trick like that. And then did anyway. He batted at the pen, missing as Mel pulled it back.

“Not quite. Try again.”

Four or five tries, four or five times the pen retreated, and then she had her hand on the scruff of its neck and backed out, standing up with Newton dangling from one hand. “Got him.”

Ronon looked astonished. Even more so when she grabbed him with the other hand, holding him against her chest while he chewed on the end of the pen, which didn’t turn out to taste good at all. “How’d you do that?”

“I always had cats,” Mel said. She sat down on the couch, stroking Newton’s silky fur. Sleek and healthy, the muscles in his shoulders sharply defined. Dr. Keller was taking nice care of a good cat.

Newton rolled over purring in ecstasy, displaying furry white belly to be scritched in an undignified way.

Ronon shook his head, the kind of admiration in his eyes that she’d expect for shooting something really important, or maybe kicking a guy twice her size, as she rubbed Newton’s tummy, all four sets of claws flailing in the air, some of them sticking on her flight suit cuffs as he writhed. “I figured you had guts since you were a friend of Sheppard’s.”

Mel shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve known John a long time. Since we were teenagers, actually. He’s a good guy.”

Ronon sat down on the other end of the couch, keeping a wide space between him and Newton, who he eyed suspiciously. “Was he always like this?”

“Sheppard?” Mel looked down at the purring kitten, now chewing playfully on her cuff with all four legs wrapped around her arm. She rubbed it under the chin, and it yawned, displaying a full set of nice clean needle sharp teeth. “He was a really sweet kid. A nice guy, kind of awkward.” She shook her head, remembering. “Trusting. Kind. The guy you go to when you have a problem because you know he’ll be there for you. He always had his heart on his sleeve.”

“Sheppard?”

“Yeah. Kind of a prep, but not snobby. He could have rushed, but I don’t think he cared about it. And then his dad messed his mom up over the divorce, and he had to work really hard to stay in school.” Mel stroked the cat’s little flat head. It had the long Siamese nose alright. “That’s why he joined the service. He took his mom’s part, and he had to have a way to pay for school. So no frat for him after that.” She gave Ronon a quick smile. “The detachment’s better than any frat.”

Ronon probably didn’t know what a frat was, but he nodded all the same. The concept worked, even if the exact words didn’t. “He’s not like that now.”

“Who is?” Mel shrugged. “I bet you’re not the guy you were when you were eighteen either.”

Ronon looked startled, then his face relaxed. “No,” he said.

“John said you were former military?”

Ronon nodded. “Yeah. When I was eighteen I was in my second year in examination school, getting ready to join the Immortals after the third year. I’d do three years there enlisted, then get my commission.”

“Did everybody have to do a tour as enlisted first?” Mel thought that sounded like a pretty fair idea.

“Yeah. You learn everything from the basics up. How can you command troops if you’ve never been commanded?”

“Makes sense.” Mel looked around at the lounge, at the windows opening onto night. “I’ve been in nineteen years. I might retire next summer. I don’t know.” She hadn’t said anything about it to John, or to anybody else yet. Saying it to someone Air Force would be like promising to do it.

Ronon’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t like it?”

Mel shrugged. “If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t have stayed in nineteen years. But I’ve got some other stuff I want to do in my life, stuff I’ve put on hold for a long time. I don’t see any way to do it without getting out.” The kitten purred, writhing on her lap. “For a long time the scale balanced the other way, either/or. But now it’s not.” She gently extracted a stuck claw from her flight suit. “I’ve done a lot of things that I really wanted to do, a lot of amazing things that I’ll never be able to tell anybody about. But I’ve done it. And now I’m wondering if it’s time to do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet.” Mel shook her head. “I’m not sure a commercial airline job would cut it for me. I like training. I like teaching kids how to stay alive and make their kills. I like being somewhere new, dealing with different people.” She glanced up. “That’s one way John and I are just alike.”

Ronon put his head to the side. “So stay here.”

“That simple?” Mel frowned. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure the Air Force isn’t going to let me stay here if I retire.”

“Why not?”

“For one thing, it’s classified all to hell,” Mel said.

Ronon shrugged. “You’ve already got security clearance, right?” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Look, the way I understand this contractor thing, I’m Satedan but I work for the IOA as a contractor. I do my thing, they pay me for my skills. Right?”

“That’s usually how it works, yes.”

“So why can’t you stay here and be a contractor here? For, say, Sateda?”

Mel blinked.

“One thing this business with the Genii showed us is that if we want our world we’re going to have to show the Genii we can hold it. And that means reforming the Citizen Brigades. It means we need experienced officers who can train, and most of ours are dead. The ones who aren’t have gotten settled somewhere else by now. We need to get the Satedan Band back, and we need to have a plan. If the Earthlings or Taur’i or whatever you call yourselves can hire a Satedan as a contractor, why can’t Sateda hire you?” Ronon looked down at the claws hooked around her wrist. “I think we’d like you. And I expect you’d like us.”

Mel blinked again. A door had opened in a blank wall, one she’d never thought was there. Maybe she’d want to go through it and maybe she wouldn’t. But there it was. And maybe it was right. Maybe it could be the door into summer at last, the door to the place where she belonged. Her eyes hazed unexpectedly, and she looked purposefully down at the cat, smoothing its soft fur. “I’ll think about that,” she said. “I’ll think about that a lot.”

“No hurry,” Ronon said, standing up. “But do you think you could do me a favor?”

“What’s that?”

Ronon shifted from one foot to another. “Carry that animal back to Keller’s quarters for me?”

“Incoming wormhole!” Banks shouted, and John came tearing out of the office, one hand automatically checking his pocket to make sure he had extra clips. “We’re receiving a digital signal.” She turned her head, the change in posture telling him a second before her voice. “And an IDC. It’s Stargate Command.”

John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Put them on,” he said. “And call Carter and ask her to get up here. Tell her the SGC’s managed to get their hands on a ZPM and is calling in.”

The static on the screen resolved itself into General O’Neill’s face, looking somewhat relieved. “Sheppard? So you’re still in the land of the living.”

“I am, sir,” John said, and couldn’t help breaking into a smile. “We’re just hanging out here. How about you?”

“When Caldwell left you were missing.”

“I’m found,” John said. He sobered. “But we’ve had some serious problems, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“I have,” O’Neill said. “What’s the situation with McKay?”

“The same,” John said. “The mechanical iris is holding, and we’ve had no further computer disruptions. They haven’t found us yet, but when they do we’re still screwed without a shield.”

“The status of the Hammond?”

“Colonel Carter’s on her way up,” John replied. “She’ll be able to tell you the details, but the Hammond is spaceworthy again.”

O’Neill nodded. “Good to hear.”

“Is Mr. Woolsey…” John began.

“We don’t know yet.” O’Neill shrugged. “His final hearing with the IOA is day after tomorrow. Supposedly either he’ll be on his way back to you, or someone else will be.”

“I see,” John said tightly. That was not good news. John would be relieved to have Woolsey back, but the idea of getting some unknown quantity decided upon by the IOA…

“Eventually. They probably won’t name someone immediately.”

Sam came bounding up the steps, a huge grin on her face that she wiped off almost immediately, replaced by professional demeanor as she stepped in front of the cameras. “General.”

“Colonel Carter. Good to see you in one piece.” O’Neill’s voice had a vaguely inappropriate mocking edge in it, a little too sarcastic for the situation. “Sheppard says the Hammond is spaceworthy.”

She nodded. “We’ve done some repairs. I won’t say we’re in tip-top form, but we’re battle ready.”

“Woolsey may not be back,” John said to her under his breath.

“Understood,” she replied, her eyes on the screen, O’Neill in the control room of the SGC.

He glanced at someone they couldn’t see behind him. “Colonel Mitchell, you can stand down. You won’t need to go charging in right this minute.” He looked back at the camera. “But I will need some reports. These are twelve days old.”

“A lot has happened in twelve days,” John said. “We’ve got an op running right now you’ll want to know about.” He scratched his head. “Banks, can you route this into the office? Sam and I will take it in there.”

“Sure,” Banks said. She switched it over and her screen went blank. She looked up at John. “It’s good to hear from home, isn’t it?”

Ninety-six emails in the upload from the SGC. Sam turned her speakers down, Billy Joel’s This is the Time to Remember on too loud. That song always reminded her of Daniel, which was maybe why she opened his email first.

Hi Sam,

I’m glad you’re ok.

That was Daniel, straight to the point.

Once again you’ve screwed up my trip to Atlantis! We were standing on the ramp. Vala was bouncing up and down and Mitchell had his steely-eyed hero thing going on, and Teal’c was…Teal’c. And Jack was pacing around the control room getting all over Landry’s nerves. We were going to come charging in to rescue you, and just incidentally be in Atlantis for weeks until we could get back.

But no. You had to be fine! You had to not need rescuing. I swear Jack sounded irritated when he told Mitchell to stand down! Certainly we were disappointed. Mitchell wasn’t going to get to take on the Wraith all by himself and Vala wasn’t going to loot the City of the Ancients. And me and Teal’c… We were worried about you, Sam.

And that was Daniel straight to the point too.

Beside her on the desk Billy Joel was singing about walking on a beach beside an old hotel. It had been a deserted Goa’uld pleasure palace, not a hotel, but there had been a cold, windswept beach. They’d been stuck there for nearly two weeks, detoxing from an alien addiction, days and days of pacing up and down that beach with Daniel, listening to him tell stories. She had no gift of storytelling, but she’d certainly appreciated Daniel’s that time.

I won’t tell you to be careful, because I know you will be unless you can’t. And I won’t tell you to feel guilty or worry about us, because I know you already do. I know you would trade anything for this opportunity. I know you have traded things for it. I mean, I’m a couple of years older than you, but men don’t have a window of opportunity about having kids the same way women do. Command of the Hammond at forty-one for how many years? Four or five probably? Believe me, Sam, I know the trade you’re making, the door you’re closing to be one of Earth’s four starship commanders, to be, for these short years, at the pinnacle. To make the difference.

And then it will be time to get out of the field. I’m not quite there yet, but I’m feeling it. I’m forty-four, Sam. I’ve been “Combat Archaeologist” for fourteen years now. I’m not done yet, but I can see it on the horizon. There’s going to be a time when “we retreated to the Stargate under fire” stops sounding like fun. Ok, it’s already stopped sounding like fun, but I can still do it. Jack knew when it was time to get out of the field, and he was wise enough to do it. I guess I’m saying there’s a time to leave the table when you’re winning, and you may have a bunch of hands yet to play, but I’m starting to look at the chips and wonder how many I’ve got left.

“Oh, Daniel,” she said quietly.

I’m losing the edge the way Jack did. All of which is a round about way of saying that if the IOA relieves Woolsey, Jack’s put my name in for command in Atlantis. It’s a poison pill in some ways. He knows they know they can’t push me around, and I figured I’d play. Why not? But now I’m starting to hope it happens. Which surprises me, because I didn’t think I’d want that. But I think maybe…I do. I wasn’t prepared for how let down I felt on the ramp that I wasn’t coming to Atlantis.

“You know, you could just come,” Sam said out loud. “You don’t have to be rescuing me or taking command. You could just come.” Of course it wasn’t that simple, but maybe it would be. Maybe they could make it that simple.

I’ve wanted to come since the original expedition left, and my two brief(!) trips haven’t turned out very well.

Which is one word for being electrocuted and nearly dying, Sam thought.

Anyway, what I’m trying to say is this: this is your moment in history. Seize it! Don’t worry about us. The only thing we really want is to be there with you. Not to have you home one minute before you need to be. There is world enough, and time. Or at least we must live as though there were.

Love,

Daniel

“Oh, Daniel,” she said again, glancing up at the pictures on the wall over the desk. That picture was more than ten years old, Daniel in his floppy hat and wire rimmed glasses, Teal’c looking impassive beside him without a hint of expression, on some alien world or another. It kind of said something that she couldn’t remember which one, or exactly which mission that picture was from. It was after the one where they’d found Cassie traumatized and mute, the sole survivor of a bioengineered plague that had killed her family. It was after the one where she’d given her father to the Tok’ra. But it was before the one where they’d all lost their memory and toiled as slaves in underground factories. Daniel had had different glasses then.

“Such a strange life,” she said, touching the picture with her fingertip, which was nothing like touching Daniel.

Sam hit reply and lifted her chin, squinting at the screen where the words wavered just a little bit.

Damn. Some things were horrible, yet unavoidable. She slid the drawer open a furtive inch and pulled them out, balanced the drug store reading glasses on her nose. Better. The letters were all crisp now. They were a terrible compromise, but you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.

Dear Daniel,

Come to Atlantis. It’s time.

“I know it is not the tensile strength you want,” Dr. Kusanagi said, “But we do not have any of the 640 plating left. We used the last of it on the mechanical iris. I have some of the 440, which is enough to hold in vacuum, but…” She spread her hands apologetically.

Enough to hold in vacuum if it never had to take fire. Which made it problematic for hull repair. Still, it was less problematic than a gaping hole. And there was no point in griping at Miko about not having things she didn’t have.

“Ok, if it’s the 440 you’ve got,” Sam said. “It will have to do temporarily.”

“Until you get back to Earth,” Kusanagi agreed, looking relieved that Sam wasn’t going to do what Rodney would have done and demanded the impossible. Like that she conjure 640 hull plates out of thin air.

“Whenever that is,” Sam said. It wouldn’t make her sleep better to know she had a big dorsal patch that would blow wide open if anything got through the shields. They’d have to plan to keep the compartments behind it closed off and remove anything important. Fortunately, it was the secondary water filtration systems, which could be rerouted to the deck above if they moved the tanks. That would be a piece of work. And the space it would have to go into was the gym. Sam didn’t have to look at the Hammond’s specs to know that. She knew every compartment like the back of her hand.

Well, they could do without a gym for the twelve day trip back to Earth eventually, and while they were here they could use Atlantis’. “Tell Sergeant Manuel that he’ll have to move the secondary water filtration tanks as soon as you get done with the hull plates. No sense having both your teams in there at the same time bumping elbows.”

“I’ll do that,” Kusanagi agreed. “We will start on that section tomorrow.”

“Great.” Sam said. “I’ll schedule a crew to collect the plates from wherever you’ve got them stored and bring them down so they’ll be ready for your team in the morning. Weather report says it’s supposed to be fair tomorrow after this rain clears out.”

“Which is better than snowing,” Kusanagi said. She and Sam were both getting tired of crawling around on the Hammond’s hull in a snowstorm.

“That it is.” Sam gave her a pleasant nod and headed out of the lab. She’d have to tell Franklin to get the third watch crew to go get the plates. It would take them a couple of hours, and they’d definitely need the bobcat.

“I was wondering if I might have a word with you, ma’am,” Major Lorne said.

Sam turned around to see him hopping up the hall behind her, his leg in its cast swinging freely as he plied the crutches. “Of course, Major,” she said. It wasn’t like Lorne to be quite so formal. After all, they’d been at the SGC together before he’d served with her in Atlantis.

“In private, if you have a moment,” Lorne said.

Ok, that definitely rang trouble bells. “We could step in Dr. McKay’s lab,” Sam said. “I don’t believe anybody is in there right now.” It was only one door away, and wouldn’t make Lorne hop all over the city to keep up with her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Lorne said, falling in behind her as Sam keyed open the lock and turned on the light. Everything was neat, pristine, left spotless by Jeannie Miller after she’d gone over the last of Rodney’s work and transferred it to her computer. She said she’d rather work in the main lab, and Sam couldn’t blame her. It would be a whole lot less depressing to look for Rodney’s loopholes in a room that didn’t constantly remind her of his absence.

Lorne’s mouth was set. Either his leg was bothering him a lot more than he let on, or this was a conversation he wasn’t looking forward to.

“What’s on your mind?” Sam asked, perching on one of the lab stools and gesturing for him to do the same.

“You probably know that last night was poker night for some of the guys,” Lorne said.

“I do.” The poker night had been going since she’d been in Atlantis if not before, the senior grade poker game that was all military and free of young lieutenants, distinct from the Girls’ Night which was organized by the female scientists.

“Some of the Daedalus’ 302 wing have been playing, Lt. Colonel Hocken and Captain Grant. We asked the Hammond’s folks if they’d like to join us, and Major Franklin came along.”

“Nice of you to ask them,” Sam said. Of course she hadn’t been asked. She and Sheppard were off the top of the list as the captain of the Hammond and the military commander of Atlantis respectively. Nobody could relax if either one of them were around.

“Yes, ma’am,” Lorne said. He looked a little abashed. “It’s pretty laid back. A few beers, some good conversation.”

“Sure,” Sam said.

Lorne’s eyes met hers. “I understand Major Franklin served with Colonel Sheppard in Afghanistan.”

“I believe he was at the same base for a few weeks,” Sam said carefully. “I don’t think he knew him well though.”

“That’s good to know,” Lorne said, looking as though he were choosing his words with equal care. “He was mentioning to Colonel Hocken that he was there when Sheppard was court martialed. He had a lot to say about the charges and about a bunch of rumors current around the base at the time. Seemed to think Colonel Hocken might be interested. Or that other people might find it interesting.”

“I see,” Sam said, and her voice was ice.

Lorne nodded. “I didn’t think you’d want those kinds of rumors being repeated. Doesn’t do much for morale, digging up old stories about stuff that might or might not have happened seven years ago. Sleeping dogs, and things like that.”

“Yes indeed, Major,” Sam said in a voice that sounded to her a hell of a lot like Jack. “I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. I wouldn’t want the crew of the Hammond to cause any offense or misunderstanding on Atlantis.”

“That was my thought too,” Lorne said.

The cruiser Eternal returned to Atlantis on a day of rain. For once the temperature had risen above freezing, and gray drizzle sheeted the towers, darkening the concrete of the pier to the color of old steel. Eternal landed neatly on the north pier, settling onto her new landing gear with grace. Guide’s men had repaired that for their queen, which was a very convenient thing for everyone.

John stood in the shadow of the cruiser’s belly, watching Carson’s team wheeling Dr. Keller down on a gurney, Carson holding a black umbrella incongruously over his patient.

“I’m fine,” Dr. Keller protested weakly, one hand rising to shade her eyes.

“Not until I say you are, love,” Carson said, keeping pace beside the gurney. “It’s a traumatic thing, and Teyla was right to bring you straight home.” His face was grim, and John knew he was seeing the ghost of Perla, that other dedicated young doctor who had killed herself with her own retrovirus trials.

John slouched over to Teyla, his hands in his pockets. She stood by the ramp, her Wraith face impassive as she watched Carson and Jennifer go inside. “What happened?” he asked quietly.

“It didn’t work.” She shook her head. “I do not know what else to tell you, John. Jennifer insisted on testing the retrovirus on herself rather than on one of Todd’s prisoners. It was not effective. When he fed on her she would have died, had he not reversed the process as he did with you once.”

John swore softly under his breath.

“He kept his bargain,” Teyla said. “And he says she will have no more effects in the long term than you do. But…” Her voice trailed off, and he wished he could put his arm around her, but she wouldn’t appreciate that, not on the tarmac in full view of half the city.

“Ok,” John said. “Well, it was worth a try.”

“I do understand why she will not permit it to be tested on someone else,” Teyla said. “It is not that I disagree. But…”

“Yeah.” John rubbed his forehead. “Let’s go tell Carter what happened. We had some good news while you were gone. The SGC managed to get their hands on a ZPM and they’ve dialed in. So we’re not cut off anymore.”

She fell into step beside him, her boot heels loud on the rain slicked pavement. “Is Mr. Woolsey back then?”

“No. The IOA are still having hearings,” he replied.

“Poor Dick.” Teyla stopped just short of the door, the rain falling around her. “He knew this might happen. He knew that bringing Atlantis back would be likely to cost him his career.”

“He wouldn’t be the first,” Sam said, appearing in the doorway. She shrugged sheepishly. “It’s not that I go around eavesdropping, actually. I just thought I’d come down and see how the mission went.”

Teyla laughed. “We were on our way up to you, so you would not have missed much.”

“I was saying Woolsey’s in hot water,” John said. “I wish we could have just thrown the IOA out the window and kept O’Neill in charge.”

Sam’s eyebrow quirked. “Do you? I don’t. It’s not his Air Force, John. And I could tell you some stories about the VP in the last administration. At least having more hands in the pot provides some accountability. We obey any lawful order, but most of the time we have no way of knowing how those orders were arrived at or what their consequences are.”

“Any lawful order,” John said with a mirthless smile.

“That doesn’t contravene the Constitution of the United States.” Sam stepped back inside, giving Teyla room to get out of the rain. “That’s what our oath is to. That’s what we promise.”

“Try giving that as a defense at a court martial,” John said.

“People have. People should.” John fell into step beside her as they walked down the hall to the transport chamber. “There’s a book called Dereliction of Duty you should read. About Vietnam.”

“There’s a winning topic,” John said. “The elephant in the middle of the room. The thing you’d better not talk about. Thanks, but no thanks. I’m happy to be about a zillion light years from that argument.”

“The questions aren’t any different here,” Sam said seriously, her back to the wall of the transport chamber.

John’s face sobered. “I know that,” he said.