SGA-16 Homecoming - Book 1 of the Legacy Series Page 12

  John shied away from it, then pushed himself back to it. He’d seen the aftermath of too many Cullings. He’d seen the pods on the hive ships too often. He could see her there, Torren clinging to her, knowing that this time no one was coming to get her. No one would ever come for her again. Except the one who would come to feed on her. To take Torren’s life as an appetizer before her eyes.

  “I am going to tell him this,” Teyla said, Teyla in the present, not that horrible future, still running on at O’Neill. “He has lied to me, and I will not let that pass.” Her chin lifted, eyes snapping.

  “I’ll come with you,” John said. “You know where I stand.” What did he have to lose? And at least she’d know that he didn’t act out of self-interest, here at the bitter end.

  She nodded gravely. “I will say what needs to be said. This thing that he has done…”

  Radek came out of the side corridor, laptop under his arm, and John saw his face change as he heard her. He hurried up. “What are you doing?”

  John glanced up at the glass door of the office, closed and waiting. “Teyla’s going to tell O’Neill exactly what she thinks of him, and I’m going to resign.”

  There. He said it. His last day in Atlantis. His last day in the Air Force. This was it. The future stretched like a gulf in front of him, full of nothing that was worth having. It was clean and fresh as the sharp tinge of ozone, with the clarity that comes in the moment when you know you’re going to die, and accepting that, seconds elongate. There’s plenty of time to say everything, to do everything, to know everything, in the moments that remain, the clock ticking to zero.

  “It’s been a pleasure, Radek,” he said, and meant it when he offered his hand.

  “Proboha!” Radek stared at it in horror, and his brows knitted together. “Come here,” he said, and put his arm on Teyla’s elbow, trying to draw them back toward the doorway, out of the gateroom.

  He would try to talk them out of it, and they wouldn’t back down. John could see how this script ran, and he figured Radek had to try. That’s what a friend does. Better to let him try, so that he could live with it in the days to come.

  Teyla looked mutinous, but John came, loping along with a spring in his step. Once you’re in freefall, you might as well relax.

  “You will not talk me out of this, Radek,” Teyla said. “He pretended that he wanted Atlantis to go home where it belongs, and all the while he was plotting to take over the city himself! There are not enough words for what I have to say!”

  “Look.” Radek thrust his laptop at her.

  John looked over her shoulder at the screen, the memo from O’Neill open on the desktop. “It’s your repair queue. So what?” There was a long list of systems and sections, prioritized by code for Zelenka’s teams.

  Radek took a deep breath. “If you will look at the first four items, the highest priority ones? 22939 Section S is the hyperdrive modulators. 10083 is the main power conduit to the hyperdrive generators. 72295 Section B is the damaged drive pod on the east pier, and 22969 Section S is the hyperdrive induction array.”

  Teyla’s eyes widened and she looked at Radek’s face. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It does not,” Radek said quietly. “If Atlantis is forever grounded, why are the priority repair projects the damaged components of the hyperdrive? Those ought to be the very last priority, if the city will never fly again.”

  John put his hands on his hips, scanning the queue again. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Am I sure which sections of the city the repair codes refer to? Please.” Radek glared at him over the top of his glasses. “I assigned the codes. And I have been repairing this city for more than five years now. I think I can figure out which sections I’m being told to have repaired.”

  “Then…” John couldn’t finish the sentence. He couldn’t think that way. Not now. He couldn’t say it. It might not be real.

  Radek’s blue eyes were grave. “Give it a little more time. The IOA are screaming and running around in circles, furious at what has happened. What harm will it do to resign tomorrow or the next day instead of today?”

  John looked at Teyla and saw the unwilling hope in her face. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to wait until tomorrow,” he said.

  Chapter Ten

  Checkmate

  Dick Woolsey had barely started packing. Other than two open shipping containers in the middle of the floor, his quarters looked just as she remembered them. Teyla stood in the doorway and he motioned her in, talking all the time. Not a radio, she thought. A cellular phone.

  “Yes, I agree, Mr. Nechayev. I, too, am disappointed by the way this has turned out. After all, I’m out of a job!” He smiled into the telephone, a conceit of humans even when the other party cannot see one. “I should not be saying this, but it’s possible there is some pressure that could be brought to bear.” He paused, a lengthy pause while listening to the IOA member on the other end. “Well, of course if the President of France were to make that phone call…”

  Teyla wandered over to the balcony doors, looking out on a city wreathed in fog. The mist was so thick she could hardly see the windows of the tower opposite. But somewhere out in the fog there was the sound of helicopter rotors. The helicopters landed and took off at all hours of the day now.

  “Yes, I’m sure it would be worth it for the Foreign Minister to call her. The Secretary of State has been fully briefed on the situation. I’m sure she’d be eager to discuss it with the Foreign Minister.” Dick’s eyes slid to Teyla, then away again. He held up a finger, mouthing ‘one minute.’

  Teyla nodded.

  “Well, you know the final decision rests with the President. But it was his impression that the IOA was adamant that Atlantis remain on Earth. And if that’s the case there is no question of jurisdiction. We are well within territorial waters.” Another long pause. “Actually, the pilot was British.” Another long pause. “Yes, I understand the Premier has a problem with that. But the issue of jurisdiction is quite clear. You made it quite clear a number of years ago in regards to the issue of the DHD. Yes, I know that was before your tenure, and I realize that the DHD came into the possession of the Russian people at a very unsettled time, but there was always the issue raised by President Chirac that as part of the postwar settlements of Nazi treasures it should have been returned to France…”

  Teyla had very little idea what he was talking about. Presumably the DHD for the Stargate on Earth. She supposed that might be a sore point between different groups, but the complex history eluded her.

  “Of course, Mr. Nechayev. I’ll be delighted to take your call later in the day. Yes, I realize how late it is for you there. Good night.” Dick carefully ended the call and sighed.

  “A last effort?” Teyla asked.

  He shrugged. “It never hurts to try, does it?” Dick’s eyes glanced away from hers, out the window at the shrouded city. “Politics is the art of the possible.”

  Teyla nodded. “And it is hard to accept defeat.” She looked around the room, at his things still unpacked, the empty shipping containers.

  “Was there something you wanted to talk with me about?” Dick asked.

  She had meant to ask him about Zelenka’s repair queues, but now it seemed ridiculous. Perhaps it was just one more way of not accepting the inevitable. Teyla blinked hard. He had done everything he could, this fussy little man she had not even liked at first. He had tried so hard. He was still not giving up, calling in favors, even though the decisions were made and the situation hopeless, and she could not help feeling a tremendous fondness for him. “I wanted to tell you that I have decided to go with Colonel Carter on the Hammond,” Teyla said. She hadn’t decided, not until this moment. But it was the best option she had.

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Dick said. His phone rang again, and he turned it up to the elaborate screen, frowning. “I have to take this,” he said.

  “Then I will go,” Teyla said, and pressed his hand warmly. �
�Good luck.”

  As she turned, Dick lifted the phone to his ear and gave her a real smile. “Thank you.”

  * * *

  John stood in the doorway of O’Neill’s office for a long time. No, not O’Neill’s office. Woolsey’s office. Maybe Carter’s office. Certainly Elizabeth’s office. And this was probably the last time he’d be in it. Ever.

  Head bent over his laptop, O’Neill didn’t look up.

  “Sir,” John said stiffly. “I’d like to request immediate reassignment.”

  O’Neill didn’t raise his head. “Request denied.”

  John took a long breath and let it out. If he wasn’t just blowing it all up today, throwing away everything… He’d come this close before, when he got home from Afghanistan. He’d nearly done it then. If he wasn’t going to do it now he had to stay calm.

  “May I ask why, sir?” His voice seemed to be coming from a long way away, the voice of some other guy who was professional and correct.

  “You may not.” O’Neill typed something furiously, hunting and pecking at a good clip. He couldn’t really type, John thought. He just faked it. Probably in those days typing classes were for girls.

  O’Neill looked up, and there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Trust me.”

  John hadn’t quite figured out what to say to that. ‘No, actually I don’t,’ didn’t seem like a good idea. Neither did ‘Why?’

  He was still running back and forth between the two when Chuck stuck his head through the door, a somewhat frantic look in his eye. “General O’Neill? The White House is on the line. The President wants to talk with you immediately.”

  O’Neill glanced at his watch. “About time,” he said, and reached for the phone with a jaunty gesture. “And get out of my office, Sheppard.”

  “Sir.” John stepped back and let the door close, watching as O’Neill pushed the blinking button for the outside line.

  Chuck looked at him and he looked at Chuck.

  “What the hell?” John said.

  Chuck shook his head. “It was the Chief of Staff. He said to get General O’Neill on the line immediately, that the President was calling.” He shook his head again. “I just answer the phone, Colonel.”

  John followed Chuck back out to the control room, glancing behind him. O’Neill had a huge smile on his face. As he watched, O’Neill nodded, still smiling, and put the phone down. He picked up his radio instead.

  “What the hell,” John said again, to nobody in particular. He looked around for Chuck and went and stood at his station. “Does the President call a lot?”

  “Just once before that I know about,” Chuck said. “But then I haven’t been here a lot.”

  “You haven’t?” John supposed he was so used to Chuck being there at all hours of the day or night that he just assumed he always was.

  Chuck shook his head. “I’ve been back and forth to Toronto. Frankly, I’m just as glad they’ve got some Air Force guys in here to monitor things. I needed the time off.” He looked at John and shrugged. “My mom has cancer and it’s really not looking great. It’s a good thing to be back on Earth right now, you know, a plane trip away from home. San Francisco to Toronto may not be real close, but it’s better than the Pegasus Galaxy.”

  “Oh.” John leaned on the edge of the station. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Thanks.” Chuck looked down at his board, then up as his radio crackled.

  “I’ll need an all-personnel call to the gateroom,” O’Neill said easily. “Assembling now, if you please. And yes, that does mean Zelenka and his teams.”

  “Yes, sir. They’re down in the substructure. It’s going to take them a little while.”

  “Understood.”

  Chuck blinked as O’Neill cut out again. “I think you said it, Colonel.”

  John nodded. “What in the hell?”

  Woolsey bustled into the gateroom, clad in his customary suit and tie, which he was still adjusting at the throat. “Chuck. John.” He hurried past them and straight into O’Neill’s office.

  Chuck switched on his headset, making the all systems announcement while John just stood there. Woolsey and O’Neill were chatting, Woolsey nodding as O’Neill showed him something on the laptop.

  Chuck’s voice had barely faded over the city’s speakers when Carson came tearing in. “What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “I have no idea,” John said. “Another all personnel assembly.”

  “What, now they’re going to blow the city up?” Carson said darkly.

  Chuck’s headset crackled again. “Chuck, get me a line out to the Hammond,” O’Neill said. “Get me Colonel Carter.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chuck looked at John and started making the call.

  “What’s Carter got to do with anything?” Carson said.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” John said, but he felt a familiar prickling in his stomach. He wouldn’t think… He wouldn’t start…

  Teyla came into the gateroom, Torren on her shoulder, and looked around. John and Carson went down the steps to join her.

  “What is happening?” Teyla asked, as the gateroom began to fill up with people coming in from all parts of the city.

  “The President called O’Neill,” John said. “That’s all I know.”

  “And O’Neill called Colonel Carter,” Carson put in.

  “For whatever that’s worth,” John said.

  Teyla shook her head, an incredulous look on her face. “You don’t think…”

  “I don’t think anything,” John said sharply. Through the glass above he could see Woolsey and O’Neill talking.

  Radek came in, his face streaked with some kind of oil, wearing an irritated expression. “What is so important that I must get here right now?”

  “That’s what we’re all wondering,” Carson said.

  “You sound like Rodney,” Teyla observed.

  Torren twisted around on her shoulder, reaching for John, and he took him, Torren settling onto him with a pleased smirk. “Da!”

  John looked sheepishly at Carson’s raised eyebrows. “He just does that. I can’t stop him.” Torren grabbed a handful of his hair by way of a handle. “Careful, kid.”

  “He won’t mess it up,” Teyla said.

  “Yes, you already appear to have stuck your finger in an electrical outlet,” Radek said. “I am not sure how he could mess it up!”

  “If I could have your attention for a moment.” Everyone swung around to look at Jack O’Neill, who stood at the top of the stairs. “I know you’re all working very hard, and you’re eager to get back to it, but this won’t take long.”

  Torren gave his hair a yank, and John grabbed the pudgy little fingers, putting them on his neck instead.

  “I have just spoken with the President,” O’Neill said. “He regrets to inform me that our situation has materially changed. The International Oversight Advisory has made the claim that the United States has acted in haste in regards to the ownership of Atlantis, currently in US waters. It seems that the IOA has always intended for this situation to be temporary, as Atlantis belongs in the Pegasus Galaxy. Therefore, bowing to international pressure, the President informs me that I am to return control of the city to Richard Woolsey, the IOA’s duly appointed representative, effective immediately.”

  O’Neill stepped back and shook Woolsey’s hand in the moment of stunned silence.

  Woolsey took it, then turned and looked out at them, his eyes catching Teyla’s and then moving on over the familiar faces. “In light of that decision,” Woolsey said, “all Air Force personnel should prepare for an extended deployment. Contractors who work through the IOA, please see me if you do not wish for renewal on the same terms.” He stopped, and for a second John thought he choked. “I appreciate the hard work you have done, and more so the hard work you are going to do.” Woolsey glanced down at his watch, and then up, his eyes meeting John’s. “Colonel Sheppard, we lift in 48 hours!”

  The room exploded.
There was no other word for it. The screams and shouts should have carried all the way to the Pegasus Galaxy. Carson was leaping up and down and whooping. Zelenka threw his arms around Teyla, who kissed him on the cheek, tears running down her face.

  John stood there holding Torren, absolutely without words.

  Torren let out a shriek because everyone else was doing it.

  Somebody started a chant. “Wool-sey! Wool-sey! Wool-sey!” Teyla, laughing, joined in.

  Richard Woolsey looked as though he were about to cry, standing at the top of the steps in his black suit. Whatever he said was drowned out by the general din. O’Neill leaned over and patted him on the back, saying something too low to hear.

  “I don’t believe it,” John said.

  Teyla turned from Zelenka, her face streaked with tears. “Believe it,” she said. John put his arm around her, Torren grabbing at her too. “Sometimes the impossible happens.” For a moment his face was against her hair, smelling of summertime and salt air, and the city leaped in joy all around him.

  Carson was pounding him on the back and Torren was yelling in his ear. “48 hours!” Carson shouted.

  Teyla turned about frantically, and his arm slipped from around her. “48 hours? We are leaving in 48 hours! I have so much to do!”

  “You think you have much to do,” Radek said. “I have approximately half the Air Force to help me, and I will not get it all done!”

  John looked at him sharply. “You’d never get it done without the Air Force?”

  “Of course not.” Radek threw up his hands. “It would take us months. But with half the Air Force, and everyone who knows anything about Ancient technology from the SGC, we are not so bad as we might be. We have had Dr. Lee and his team and the entire maintenance section from Colorado.”

  “That sneaky bastard,” John said.

  Teyla met his eyes, looking as though a thought had suddenly occurred to her. “All those pallets of ammunition and MREs.” She shook her head, an expression of wonder on her face. “They meant this. They planned this all along, Woolsey and O’Neill.” Her eyes widened. “And Colonel Carter.”