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sga_santaTitle: Red Flowers
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
temaris
Pairing: McKay/Sheppard (established)
Rating: PG
Recipient:pollitt
Spoilers: Fourth season casting only.
Summary:
On Canlaon, anything is for sale.
Caveat emptor -- let the buyer beware.
Author's Note: This was intended to be a straightforward team thing, and then it got a little away from me :-) I hope you enjoy :-)
Many thanks to my last minute beta readers! You know who you are (and after the reveal everyone else will too :-) ) and you are fabulousity itself.
Part 1
-+-
"If you are determined, Teyla, my dear, there is obviously nothing I can do to stop you." Fierb leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the table. "I should remind you, however, of the terms of entry to Canlaon." He smiled sweetly at her.
Sheppard's right hand clenched into a fist, short nails digging hard into his palm. This 'deal' just kept on getting worse.
"Certainly," Teyla said composedly. "We merely wish to locate our remaining colleague, and we will leave."
Fierb shook his head quickly. "No, you do not understand. You were permitted within the walls on the understanding that you had something to trade. If you are not trading, then your permission to remain is revoked. I am sorry." He paused a beat, "Of course, if we find Doctor McKay, and he has no reason to be here legally, we will have no choice but to obey House Rules."
John gritted his teeth. "House rules?" he said softly.
Teyla shook her head. "I understood that the Rules said that negotiators were guaranteed free status for the duration of their visit."
"Ah, I see how the misunderstanding arose," Fierb said, "an easy mistake to make. We changed the Rules." His voice hardened. "Times are harder now, Teyla Emmagan. Canlaon must make profit where it finds it. We permitted you in, although you consort with murderers and Wraith-Raisers. We will trade with anyone. And all traders are protected under the Rules. But without anything to lay on the table, Teyla Emmagan, of Athos, of Atlantis, you are not a trader, and the Rules of the House give you no protection."
He settled back into his chair and waited.
"I... see," Teyla said slowly.
"Good. I hate it when people play ignorant." Fierb regarded each of them in turn, coming back to Teyla. "So. We move on to a new game. One where we do not lie to each other about ourselves." He nodded to someone behind them and one of the armsmen came forward and dropped three or four photographs on the table, the topmost one showing a very familiar face -- John's own, with Genii writing across it. Well, that explained a lot.
"Our position is... delicate... you might say."
"Delicate, my ass," John said sweetly.
"John, this is not helping," Teyla hissed at him, her face serene as she kept her eyes on Fierb.
"I'm not feeling helpful. This is nothing more than blackmail. We trade with you or you keep Doctor McKay hostage? Is that it?"
Fierb looked taken aback for a moment, and then he chuckled genially. "No. Not at all. As you have split the group, so we have split the Trade. Whether you trade with us or not, Doctor McKay will be discussing his future in private negotiations."
"I am sorry, but as we came as a single group, so we trade and will leave as one," Teyla said firmly.
Fierb spread his hands, "And how will you enforce that? Canlaon has its walls, its traditions. We are protected."
"Protected. Riiight. And what exactly does 'private negotiations' mean?" John asked.
Fierb tilted a mocking smile at them. "That would be private."
"You would wreck any hope of a future trading relationship with both Athos and Atlantis?" Teyla asked. "Do you think our peoples will not come for Doctor McKay? For all of us?"
Fierb shrugged and said gently. "They can come."
-+-
Teyla settled back to the negotiation table, and began again. The haggling was priced higher, information for technology, grain for pharmaceutical manufacturing data. Knowledge for knowledge, Fierb said more than once, and each time, Sheppard ground his teeth.
"We need to be out there, looking for him," Ronon grumbled under his breath, and John eyed the guards in the room.
"You reckon we could take them all if they want to keep us here?" he replied quietly.
"Between the three of us? Yes."
"You want to risk Rodney's life on that?" Because he wasn't about to take that chance. Ronon subsided with one final grumble.
"We should still try. Go and find him. You don't deal with Wraith worshippers."
John's attention snapped back to the table at Teyla's raised voice and the crash of a chair. Teyla was standing.
"Enough! We are either negotiating for Doctor McKay, or he is negotiating for himself. You cannot have it both ways!" Teyla slammed her hand down on the table.
"Of course we can. The negotiations may be independent of each other; if the good doctor chooses to stay--or move on to a new home, we cannot prevent the Trade."
"Then all your negotiations are lies, and the galaxy will know that Canlaon has fallen into corruption."
Fierb laughed so abruptly that he nearly choked, and had to grab a glass of water before he could speak. "Of course you will! You'll blacken our name everywhere, oh it will be terrible. Yes, I should be terrified now, yes?" His amusement deepened, grew vicious, malicious edges. "Ask your young Satedan friend what happens to planets that go after the good name of Canlaon."
Ronon frowned, taking a second to follow the statement through, then with a roar he launched himself at Fierb, who jerked back involuntarily even as armsmen swarmed out of the walls and passages and held both Ronon and John back.
"You? You brought the Wraith down on us?"
Fierb smiled. "We will trade with anyone who has something to bring to the table. One party needs a -- thorn removed; one party needs intelligence about the potential threats to their... activities. Canlaon finds a match for each need. A simple Trade."
Ronon nearly managed to throw off the men holding him, dragging them forward with him as he threw himself forwards.
"Monster."
"Negotiator," Fierb corrected. "You Lanteans have treated with the Wraith; what was your price up on that high moral ground?"
"We never turned them on a world because they were our enemies--"
"What of Olesia? Would they agree? Or of our galaxy itself? Who woke the Wraith, John Sheppard?"
"The Wraith always come," Teyla said, one hand hard on John's wrist. "Saying we woke them is like blaming the water for reflecting the sun."
"We're nothing like you," Sheppard said. "Nothing."
"Oh, you're very like us, Lantean. You just choose to direct your pragmatism to the theater of war. We have chosen the traders' table. Everything has a price. It's just a question of what the market can bear to pay."
"Rodney McKay is not for sale!"
"But you were prepared to bring his knowledge and skills to the table, yes?"
"In the right circumstances, we are prepared to help allies," he emphasized. "People who have proven themselves trustworthy."
"And how do we poor Pegasus galaxy denizens do that, Colonel? From where I sit, it looks like the choices are try and die trying. Unless lives are lost you do not take us seriously. How many Athosians were lost, Teyla Emmagan, because John Sheppard killed the Keeper of the Hives?"
"The Hives awaken, Fierb. If we have no other constant, this is always true. The Hives waken, the ships come, no one escapes the culling altogether. Except here." Teyla's face was grave. "Here, you suffer neither the Wraith, nor any other predators. Are the old stories true? What do you do, Fierb, sell whoever displeases you to the Wraith? Your own kind, and you blame us for awakening them."
"Not my own kind, Teyla. Those who come from Outside. And we flourish for it," Fierb said easily. "My children do not fear culling. My grandparents live yet, and of my siblings, one died of a childhood illness, the rest live and have families of their own. Can you say as much?" He shook his head, mouth a little moue of distaste. "You would have us all suffer as you have, Teyla Emmagan, merely to satisfy your sense of injustice. We merely protect ourselves."
"You live at the expense of others," she said softly. "A man here. A world there. Where do you stop?"
Fierb shrugged. "When the profit dries up."
A rap on the door heralded three armsmen bearing trays. "Lunch?" Fierb asked.
-+-
"This is -- this is incredible!" Rodney couldn't stop himself looking around, taking in everything: and everything was a junk yard of galactic proportions. The deep corridors had led into what Idarial called the deep rooms, filled with gadgets and gizmos and god knew what, just waiting for the right man to come along and -- he stopped himself and blinked, trying not to remember Teram's startled eyes.
Idarial smirked, and said quietly, "This is the work of the House of Knowing. Everything you see here." He gestured widely. "I knew you would understand."
"What powers it?" He didn't understand. He wasn't the kind of man to care more about technology than the life of a boy barely out of puberty.
Idarial looked at him chidingly. "Doctor McKay."
"I know, I know, but the lack of pollution alone--" He shook his head, more and more convinced that they had to have at least one ZPM powering all of this. More, surely. The technology was the most bizarre mishmash of types and styles he had ever seen. "People trade this stuff to you?"
"Exactly." Idarial smiled at him proudly, like a teacher with a backwards pupil who had finally connected the dots. Rodney wanted to say something incredulous, but the red-brown spatter pattern on Idarial's pale blue over coat cum robe thing was more than deterrent enough.
Instead he gritted his teeth and paced alongside Idarial.
"We mostly handle raw materials and power generation here," Idarial said happily, "I understand that you have some knowledge about power sources?" His voice ended on a lift, and Rodney looked back from where he'd been staring -- what looked like a cannibalized Wraith Dart drive unit -- only much, much bigger.
"Impressive, eh? You know what it is, of course?"
"Hive sub light drive," he said almost on autopilot, hands itching to get at it. "What's the core of the unit?"
Idarial smiled at him, "Yes, yes, I knew you would see things our way!" The smiles were starting to get on his nerves.
"I'm sorry, no, actually, I'm not, I have no idea what you're talking about. See what your way? What are you talking about? And what are you doing with one of those?"
"Come and see!" Idarial ushered him over. Several of the people working on the unit looked up, greeted Idarial by name, and went straight aback to variously welding, rewiring, and analyzing computer output with what -- He looked closer. They were analyzing the data with what looked like an SGC laptop!
"Where did you get this?" he snapped, reaching for the laptop. The scientist using it pulled it out of his reach.
"We dealt for it," Idarial said readily. "I believe that one was found --"
"On Hoff," the scientist said helpfully.
Rodney clenched his teeth together. He wasn't going to --"That was stolen from my people!"
Idarial shrugged, "I can't speak to that. The negotiator had salvage title, I believe. You abandoned it when you fled the planet," he added helpfully, as though Rodney was too stupid to follow their paper thin justification for fencing stolen gods. "We'll deal with anyone, provided they have something of value to offer us."
"I see." He leaned in closer over the scientist's shoulder. "And what are you-- reconfiguring the sublight drive. You're not going to get more than about point seven five C out of it you know, no matter what you do." He thought for a moment, "You might get up to point nine if you can figure out a way to make the inertial dampeners strong enough without actually impacting the weight/speed ratios."
"C being your notation for the speed of light?" the scientist asked, frowning. "Our projections suggest--"
"Yes, yes, the numbers might work, but any practical execution will show quite clearly that as you approach light speed particles become exponentially more massive, inhibiting them from crossing the threshold." He shook his head dismissively. "If you want FTL then you'll almost certainly need a complete rethink of your science. We had to develop an entirely new branch of physics just to cope with it."
Idarial nodded, "We need a qualitative breakthrough -- not predictable and not reliable. Not profitable," he shook his head. "Much better if we bargain for the information."
"Or -- wait, why are you doing this with a Hive ship drive?" But he realized the answer even as he asked the question.
"The units are powerful, but not strong enough for extragalactic travel. The Queen who commissioned the work desires that she too be able to join the Hives that can reach the new feeding grounds."
Ice formed in the pit of his stomach. "New feeding grounds."
"Your home world, I am told." He sounded like he'd suggested crossing the street to a new restaurant, not an entire inhabited world. Not Rodney's home world.
"You're building them an FTL drive to take them to Earth and you think I will help you," he said flatly.
Idarial nodded expectantly. "Just so. It would go much quicker if we can come to a suitable exchange of knowledge."
"No!" He was backing away, "That's my -- no! You're crazy if you think I'm going to give up anything to make it easier for the Wraith to feed on my people."
"Please refrain from theatrics, Doctor McKay. Everyone has a price."
"What's the price here? Thirty pieces of silver?" The reference passed Idarial by completely, and he tilted his head quizzically.
"How large would the pieces of silver need to be?" he asked, as though about to order a stack of ingots.
"No! No, I --" he took a deep breath. "There's nothing I can do to help you."
"No?" The look on Idarial's face made the ice spread outwards. "I understand that you can be very cooperative under the right circumstances." He smiled briefly. "Drugs or physical coercion?"
"What? I -- Are you seriously asking me if I have a preference? And I don't know where you got your information but no one has ever won against me, you know." But he couldn't stop the split second glance down at his arm, the scar from Kolya's men still something he didn't look at, didn't touch except with a washcloth between his hand and it. If it didn't exist he didn't have to remember it, even if, in the end, he'd turned their confidence in his information against them.
"And yet, here you are, in our underground labs, on your own, with nothing to help you except some little toys."
"You might think they are toys --" he stopped himself, but Idarial's eyes were already lighting up.
"Not toys? What do they do? They seem too small to do anything but of course the mechanical device is far smaller than anything we've been able to make ourselves."
"So where'd the printer things come from?" Rodney asked before he could stop himself.
Idarial looked surprised. "I'm surprised you haven't worked it out, Doctor McKay. Perhaps you are not the genius you were touted to us as. The printers -- the majority of technology that you see here, is--"
"Wraith," he breathed. Of course. Why stop at doing research work for them? John had said that had been humans on the Hive ships; willing partners, informants. One had tried to seduce John, of course. He could appreciate the impulse even if he didn't approve. Logically, he should have expected something like this. Not all humans recoiled from partnership with the Wraith.
Oh.
Especially if it came with a guarantee that they would remain untouched.
"It's nothing to do with the stones, is it?"
"Stones?"
"That ridiculous story about the city walls. The stones stop the culling beam. It's just, just a lie."
"We have never lied when asked," Idarial said, his face darkening. "We do not lie."
"But you sure as hell don't tell the truth when you hear a lie, do you? You know exactly what the rest of the galaxy would think of your deal with the Wraith."
"We deal with anyone who has something of value to us, Doctor McKay. Wouldn't you? If the offer on the table was freedom from the Wraith for your entire planet? All your people safe, healthy, free?
"You are not the only ones to see the benefit in allying with the Wraith. Turn one Hive into an ally, give them something they need and they will intervene against the other Wraith for you. We have a safe world, Doctor. We have not seen a culling here in six hundred years."
"And in return you work for the Wraith," Rodney said flatly.
"How is that any different to the alliance you made with them?" At Rodney's startled look, Idarial chuckled softly. "Information is always available to those with the right price."
"We were not working for them," he insisted. The difference was small, but they had not sold out anyone else to get what they wanted. Except maybe the newly human Wraith. He winced. That was a hard memory even now, the casual way the Wraith Queen had simply fed off one of her own; no longer Wraith, no longer safe from her hands. The way he'd opened fire on the alpha site... "We thought we had a way to destroy all the Wraith."
Idarial paused. "Truly?"
Rodney shrugged. "We're still ironing out some bugs."
"Perhaps we could help you with that," Idarial said readily, and Rodney met his eyes, trying to see into the man's mind.
Maybe the differences weren't all that great between them. These people were sharing technology; Atlantis had shared systems and bio-weapons. Was the only difference really that it was only when it was his home world on the table as an offer to the Wraith that he cared who was allied with them?
No. There were deals that he still wouldn't be party to.
"No, thanks, I don't think you could offer us anything that we couldn't do better ourselves," he said coolly. "I don't think I have anything to bring to the table, here."
"No?" Idarial said mildly. His eyes lifted for a second to look over Rodney's shoulder. "A pity. However, that does not leave us without options."
He was already turning when a hand holding a pad of something cold and pungent smelling wrapped over his mouth and nose.
"If you are not willing to be a part of the negotiation, Doctor McKay," Idarial said, his voice sounding like it was coming through a distant tunnel, thin and remote, "Then you will be a part of the deal."
-+-
"That's it," John muttered under his breath to Ronon, who was munching on some sort of flaked fish. "I'm going after him."
Teyla shook her head, leaning in. "Have you heard some news of Rodney, Colonel?"
Reluctantly John shook his head. "Not as such, but you keep these guys busy for a couple of hours, and I bet Ronon and I could track McKay; shake this place up a little."
"Follow the explosions and shouting," Ronon suggested, and John nearly smiled at that.
"We can't just leave him like this."
"We don't know for sure that he is even in trouble," Teyla reminded him.
"I have a bad feeling," John said stubbornly.
"Fierb could be bluffing -- the Canlaons are expert negotiators. They have put their best man to the job of bargaining with us. John, I know how these people operate. We have not seen more than the merest beginning of the strategy. I do not believe now that it was an accident that we met Fierb as we did. However, that does not mean we should despair for Doctor McKay." She cautiously touched a hand to his wrist for a second, and then went on, "We must see this through. If we cannot bring this to the real point of the negotiations--"
"And what if the point is to delay us from locating McKay so they can sell him to the highest bidder?" Ronon said.
"They do that?" John asked. "They're slavers?"
Ronon shrugged. "Slavers, recruitment specialists, negotiators. They are whatever gets them the deal they want. The only people that the Canlaon care about are the Canlaon."
"They have been good friends to the Athosians," Teyla insisted.
"Not good enough to offer your people sanctuary," Ronon snapped. "Nor mine." His face darkened.
"I don’t think I need to hear any more about the damn Ferengi," John said his back and neck starting to tighten up. "Ronon, you're with me. Teyla--"
She nodded at him. "I will stall the negotiations so far as I may. As long as we negotiate we remain protected under their own Rules."
"We have another --" he checked his watch, "four hours before they expect a check-in back home."
"I can get within radio distance of the gate in fifteen minutes from here."
John twitched his eyebrows up at Ronon, but made no comment. Having run with the man he wouldn't bet against it. Especially if they were in a hurry.
"We call the Daedalus in if any one of us is still missing at check-in."
They nodded and separated.
"Let's go see this amazing House of Records."
-+-
The heat of the day beat down on them, his black t-shirt too hot, but he kept walking, Ronon pacing alongside smoothly, like they had a hundred times before. More. The sun was almost directly overhead, dry, leeching moisture away from everything. Too hot to speak even; it felt like the saliva was drying out of his mouth as he spoke, cracking open his skin and showing too much.
“That’s where we stopped.” Ronon nodded at an open door. John took a step towards it and recoiled.
“Jesus! You went in there? Rodney went in there?”
“It wasn’t as bad this morning.” Ronon conceded, not going any closer than he already was.
“Forget it.” He shook his head, then grimaced.
Ronon waited, and John took a deep breath. “I’ll be a minute.”
It took no time to look around the place, raw sewage running along an open culvert through the middle of it.
He didn’t breathe, but that didn’t feel all that different.
Outside again he shook his head, already moving briskly up the street, taking in quick gasps of air until the relief of oxygen was overtaken by the way his throat was drying up. He drank some water, offered it to Ronon, who shook his head.
So fucking hot. The light was desert brilliant, echoing off the golden walls until it felt like they walked through towering canyons of sand dunes, etched out with doors and windows; the splashes of red flowers, bright buttons holding down a vast net of green, binding it into place. It was the flowers holding back the stench he could feel crawling at the edges of his senses, roiling his stomach, he was sure of it.
Passersby watched them curiously from under broad brimmed hats; a quick sweep over their bodies and packs, dip to the wrist where they had clipped the bone tags, and a flicker of a glance to the side, looking for the state spies. The shops looked pleasantly dim and cool inside, and they eyed each one, ignoring the bolts of fabric, piles of mismatched tech, tea houses, food shops with haunches of dried meat, flies crawling over the wrinkled flesh; fruit, different and yet familiar, as though the universe had only so many ways to seed itself. Or humans had only so much tolerance for new kinds of plants.
No sign anywhere. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for. Had they kidnapped Rodney, or just -- kept him interested in stuff until he didn't notice he was incommunicado? Was he okay and --
Okay. That way lay insanity and loss of focus.
Should they be asking as they went? They didn't have a picture of Rodney even if they wanted to pass one around, and he wasn't really sure that it would be a good idea anyway.
"This is the House of Records," Ronon said, and John nodded as though his mind had never gone anywhere but their destination. He pushed his sunglasses back up and grinned.
"Washed your hands and face, Ronon?"
Ronon just looked at him, and John's grin widened. "Let's see what they have to say to us this time."
What they principally had to say was, "You can't go in there! Colonel Sheppard! Colonel Sheppard, I promise you, Doctor McKay was not -- no!" as John stalked through the House of Records, summarily slamming open doors, and sweeping rooms with long, fast strides.
"Colonel Sheppard, I assure you that Doctor McKay -- that is the ancient artifacts room! It is climate controlled and--" The man was actually wringing his hands. "Please, some of the artifacts are quite, quite priceless."
John smiled genially at him. "Well, maybe I'll find a priceless artifact all of my own in there then." He examined the keypad, and raised an eyebrow. "Pretty high tech for this place."
Ronon glanced over. "Looks like Olesian work."
Sheppard cocked his head at Arde. "So it does. Do you know what happened to Olesia, Arde?"
Arde wrung his hands some more, not meeting Sheppard's eyes.
When the man made no effort to respond, John added, "We did. Key code, Arde."
"Oh, no, I -- I don't think-"
"You don't have it? Too bad. Ronon, open the door for me." He leaned back to Arde and spoke confidentially, "I love this bit. I never know what he's going to destroy next, but it's always fun. Hey, you don't have anything important on the other side of the wall, do you?"
"No!"
"Cool. Go ahead Ronon."
Ronon smiled and raised his gun to aim it at the door hinges.
"No, here, the, the code, please, let me--" Arde squeezed past John, breathing in to make sure they didn't touch. He flinched as both men's weapons followed him.
"Don't do anything stupid, Arde," John said, still smiling.
Arde visibly hesitated, then slumped a little, and tapped a rapid pattern over the keypad. "Please be careful, there's nothing of any -- Colonel Sheppard!"
John stared around the room, then pulled his sunglasses off and stared some more. "Wow."
"You know what this stuff is?" Ronon asked quietly, and John shook his head.
"Some of it. Maybe. But put McKay and Zelenka in here and we wouldn't see them for a month."
If anything, Arde looked more distressed. "Colonel Sheppard, you shouldn't say things like that."
"Oh, really?" John turned slowly and regarded the anxious librarian narrowly. Arde shook his head mutely, then reached back to pull the door to the room closed.
"I need to protect --" he broke off with a squeak as Ronon took two quick steps toward him and gripped his shirt, pulling him up on tiptoes.
"You better not be trapping us in here," Ronon said. Arde shook his head, tugging at the twisted collar around his throat, trying to breathe.
"Quiet in h-here. No surveillance. Closed security feed. I'm the only one -- no sound pickup."
John smiled. Arde didn't look comforted by it. "Convenient."
"Colonel, I," he wrung his hands, "I would not say, but there is Teram, and--"
"I think this is getting kind of boring. Do you think it's boring, Ronon?"
"I was bored ten minutes ago."
John shrugged at Arde, "Short attention span. What can I do?"
"Doctor McKay was taken by the research branch," he whispered. "They wanted to see if he knew what was wrong with one of their machines."
That was a little too pat. "And you're telling us this because ...?"
"They killed one of the junior staff members here." Arde's face twisted with distress.
"Friend of yours?" John said, and almost regretted his light tone when Arde burst out with:
"He was a good boy! He didn't deserve to die!"
"Doctor McKay didn't deserve to be kidnapped and held against his will." He held Arde's eyes steadily, waiting.
"I don't understand why they killed him," Arde mumbled, his voice bewildered and forlorn.
"If it would make you happier I can kill you too," Ronon rumbled into his ear, and Arde yelped and jumped. He didn't get far with Ronon gripping the back of his shirt.
"Ronon," John chided him mildly, "Put Arde down. He only wants to help. You do want to help, don't you?"
Arde ducked his head once, and whether that was meant to be a yes or a submission, he'd take it. "Where's Doctor McKay, Arde?"
Arde bit his lip. "The researchers live below the city."
"Do they?" Suddenly, a bunch of things made sense. "Live in bunkers do they?" Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? The Genii weren't going to be the only ones to figure out that it might be possible to advance technologically if it was sufficiently out of the Wraith's view.
Except... he frowned, no, that really didn't make sense. Rodney had picked up on the abnormal power levels coming off of Canlaon from a few miles away. The Wraith would have been able to spot it from space, easily. So -- what was he missing here?
"They hold our lives lightly because they believe that they are the ones who protect us from --"
"From the Wraith," Ronon snarled.
"From the Wraith?" John said a split second after Ronon. "This isn't telling me where Doctor McKay is, Arde. Ronon, I think our friend here needs a little persuading."
Ronon stepped in close, and Arde stumbled backwards. "No, no, they, they'll, I'll-- It's below. Under Canlaon."
"You already told us that, Arde. Arde, I'm getting kind of tired of this. And Ronon's looking bored." He dropped all pretence of friendliness and looked coldly at the librarian. "You don't want to see what happens when we get bored."
Arde swallowed, and shook his head again. "I'm, I'm trying, I-- all my life, we never. I can't -- but Teram was--"
"Teram was the kid who got killed?" Ronon was oddly kind sounding, and John cut a sidelong glance at him. He was simply watching Arde, a curious expression on his face.
"Yes." Arde suddenly just looked like a sad old man, not the cool professional master of the house that he'd seemed when they first met. "Teram."
"Nice kid?"
Arde smiled painfully. "A good boy. Enthusiastic; prattled on about the least little thing -- oh, he drove us insane at times."
John couldn't help the quick grin, "And you sent him with Doctor McKay? That must have driven Rodney nuts."
Arde laughed a little hysterically, closed his eyes. "They slit his throat."
For one heart stopping moment John thought they meant Rodney and it felt like everything in him, everything, stopped, too frozen to think.
"Rodney--" he croaked, and Ronon was suddenly very close, a knife in his hand.
Arde shook his head, eyes wide, "No, no, they -- They took him away; they wanted to negotiate with him -- skills, knowledge, artifacts. Anything that he wanted to share really."
He ignored Ronon's narrow-eyed stare and asked, "And if he didn't want to negotiate any of those?"
Arde frowned, as though John had asked why the sky was made of marshmallow. "But everyone wants to negotiate, it's just a matter of setting the right price."
John loosened his hands out of the fists they'd curled up into and said softly, "And if the price is his life? Or someone else's?"
Arde wouldn't meet his eyes. "The negotiation -- that's what--"
"Cut the crap," Ronon said abruptly. "If you didn't know something was seriously wrong you wouldn't be dragging us into secure rooms without security feeds to tell us this stuff. Where's McKay?"
Arde blinked, then nodded, straightening up as though the brusque demands had strengthened his resolve.
"Here." He led them to a terminal and swiftly brought up a schematic. He tapped the screen. "This is where we are." He dragged a fingernail down the screen, and the schematic twisted into a three dimensional representation of the building, and the areas beneath it. "Down, and then here, and here to the main halls of the researchers, and then further to the west, here are the guest rooms."
Ronon and John exchanged a look at 'guest' but said nothing. "He may be here. Does that -- will that be enough to find him?"
"You could always come with us," John said, and Arde blanched, his tanned skin fading to the color of cold tea.
"No, I, I couldn't. I can show you the way in, you, you can find him. They'll keep him in one of the guest chambers." He looked anxiously to and fro. "His knowledge is valuable, very valuable. They will not harm him."
"You're sure they're not going to sell him to the highest bidder?" Ronon asked.
"No! I mean, I -- I don't think they would. As long as he has knowledge to trade with us there would be no reason to trade him away to someone else. It would be madness."
"Madness." John looked over Arde's head at Ronon. "McKay. He's doomed."
A smile twitched at the corners of Ronon's lips. "Never knows when to keep his mouth shut. Where's the entrance?"
Arde blinked, "Oh, um, the route I showed you -- do you remember the route?"
"Yeah, but--" Ronon was staring at him and John winced. "Okay, fine. Can you print off a copy of the map?" John asked.
Arde ducked his head a little, "Do not lose it -- and tell no one you have it." Arde reached over and a moment later several sheets churned through. "Here." He glanced at John then at Ronon, and arranged the sheets on the table. "Here, this is the entrance you need. Go right out of here, there's a door on the right halfway down the corridor. Take it and keep heading down until you hit the Halls of Knowledge."
"And we'll know we're there because...?"
Arde pursed his lips. "You'll know."
-+-
Teyla nodded, "Before I can agree to anything I must talk to Doctor McKay. In person."
Fierb shook his head, "Teyla --"
"I am happy to continue negotiations, but we cannot abandon one of our own merely on your word." His eyes flickered away for a split second -- in a negotiator of Fierb's experience and caliber this was astonishing, and Teyla leaned in to press the point. "If you can shift the grounds of the negotiation on me, then I can do so also." She smiled at him.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "I can hardly compare the two," he said.
Teyla shrugged. "I do not agree. All negotiations and trades agreed here are contingent on the agreement of Doctor McKay." Which of course shifted the ground again, from merely a proof of life requirement to making McKay's active participation --and agreement -- necessary. Now to see how badly they wanted for pursue the trade.
"Oh, Teyla," he looked at her, feigned disappointment on his face. "And I had such high hopes for you."
"And I of you," she said mildly.
There was a short silence and then he shrugged. "Very well. If a deal is agreed, Doctor McKay will witness it."
"Freely, and of his own accord."
"Of course," Fierb smiled slowly. "I think he will be very happy with our terms."
"Then we shall continue?"
"Unless you wish to break for food or to consult your friends -- I do hope they are enjoying the House of Knowledge?"
"My colleagues will contact me when they need to do so," she said. And there was that twitch again. She wondered what exactly the three men were up to -- and how Fierb knew about it. They needed time, and she would find them it. "The matter of diagnostic machinery."
-+-
"Two guards," John murmured. "Ronon?"
Ronon's face brightened. "No problem."
"Don't kill them, we just want to get them out of the way, not make enemies," John warned, and Ronon rolled his eyes. He slipped around the corner and John followed. Two shots from Ronon's gun illuminated the corridor before he could even get close enough to attack, and a moment later, the guards were lying on the floor. A quick check reassured Sheppard that they were just unconscious.
"Not leaving live enemies at our back would be smarter, Sheppard," Ronon said disapprovingly.
Sheppard shrugged. "Nobody's dead yet. Let's try to keep it that way."
"Nobody on our side," Ronon reminded him, and when John looked blankly at him, said, "The boy." It took John a moment to remember.
"You never even met him."
"Just keeping count."
John stared at him for a moment then nodded curtly. "All the more reason to show them we're not like that," he replied, and picked up the pace "We're wasting time."
They'd been walking for some time when the corridor widened out --stairs both up and down, and two corridors branched away.
"Got the map?"
They pored over it, but before they could agree on a direction, a rumbling sound from below them followed by a dull boom made them look up.
"That way," John said, relief flooding him. "I think I hear the sounds of a mad scientist."
The room at the foot of the stairs was vast, big enough to house an Ancient warship -- if only they were that lucky. Instead it was filled with technological detritus and scurrying scientists who barely looked up as they walked in.
"Where the hell did all this come from?" John said under his breath. It was meant rhetorically, but a pretty blue eyed scientist sitting at the nearest pile of junk looked up and smiled.
"Deals and Trades, elder," she said. "Have you come to negotiate materials in or out?"
John couldn't think of a thing to say. He'd been expecting shrieks of 'guards!', not cheerful offers to trade.
"Out, I think," Ronon said easily, a warning hand tightening on John's wrist.
John nodded, catching on. "We're down a couple of items back home, and we were kind of hoping, you know..." he trailed off hopefully. She glanced at his wrist -- the tags -- and nodded.
"Of course, elder. I'm not authorized to Trade, but if you see anything you like, just ask for it to be put aside, and we can add them to your negotiation."
"Sounds good. What do you think, Ronon?"
Ronon grunted.
"He thinks it's a great idea too," he leaned in and said with an air of sharing confidences. She blushed. "So, we'll just, you know, look around. Let you know when we're done browsing."
Ronon shoved him away and he waved a cheery goodbye.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, "I was getting information out of her."
"McKay's computer."
"Where?"
Ronon jerked his head off to the left. "Play it cool."
John scowled, but followed.
It was definitely from Earth. The decals had been peeled off, but had left a dirty sticky pattern that was very familiar.
"Fully functional, elder." This time it was a young man who popped up. "Just one careful previous owner." John shook his head.
"Got one at home just like that," he said. "Now, if I had someone who could show me how to use it ..."
"We can negotiate for that, elder," the young man said brightly. "Lessons are available on a fixed rate, variable according to the level of expertise required."
"And if I wanted a lot of expertise?"
"You'd better have a lot to trade," he said cheerfully. He held out a blue rectangular plastic strip. "If you're interested, that's my chit. Daness. Anyone can point you my way."
"Thanks." John tucked it into a pocket and moved on feeling vaguely bemused.
"I'm guessing they haven't noticed we're not supposed to be here," Ronon said softly, waving off another eager to sell scientist.
"Yeah. Keep walking like you're meant to be here," John replied. Ronon looked at him. "All right, fine."
"We should try the radios," Ronon said.
John nodded. He rubbed at his ear, and muttered, "McKay? You there?" There was nothing but static, and he wished he knew what was happening to Rodney.
He shook his head fractionally at Ronon.
"He might be fine," Ronon said encouragingly.
"Weren't you the one talking about slavers?"
"Or he might not," Ronon conceded. "Sheppard, look. He'll be fine. He's too valuable to kill."
"That's not as reassuring as -- " They were interrupted by a loud shout, and they looked at each other, back towards where they'd come in. A number of armsmen wearing the uniform of the House of the Exterior were running towards them. They looked at each other.
"Oops." They ran.
Shots rang out. They split apart almost reflexively, presenting a smaller target area. "You remember any exits?"
"That way!" Ronon called back, nodding off to the leftmost corner of the enormous room.
"Oh, great," he muttered. "I'll see you there," he called back, and kept running, weaving in and out of the piles of ancient junk. One pile exploded as shots riddled it, just missing him as he sprinted past it. He winced as Ancient technology sprayed everywhere, shattering and clattering to the floor. The scientist near the pile shrieked with horror, adding to the cacophony of the outraged House of Knowledge scientists. He glanced back. The scientists weren't impressed. They were desperately protecting their small hoards --in some cases with weapons.
Blue light flooded the place for a second, and he guessed that someone had broken out a Wraith stunner. Red light answered it, and he didn't dare to stop to wonder if Ronon was okay. He ducked low and swung around a mountain of Ancient control crystals, then shouldered roughly into the pile, knocking it over and taking out two of the closest armsmen.
They made a spectacular crash and he quickly fled in the opposite direction from the mayhem as scientists converged, apparently intent on rescuing crystals from the heavy boots of the armsmen.
Two minutes later he ran up to the agreed exit and found Ronon there, holding his gun on a couple of scientists.
"I've got a lead on McKay," he said, and jerked the gun towards the shorter of the two prisoners. "Tell him."
"He's in the private guest quarters," the man said frantically, "Through there, up three flights, on the left, you can't miss it!"
"You better not be lying," John said very softly, and the scientist's back straightened.
"I don't know what you take me for, elder. I've made a Trade and the deal is good."
"Ronon?"
"Information in return for his life."
"Huh. I thought the idea was no enemies left behind?"
Ronon grinned. "I thought we'd try it your way."
John just glared at him.
"McKay?"
John turned on his heel and pushed through the door. There were guards on this side too. He caught one under the chin with his elbow and the other collapsed as Ronon ripped a knife through his gut.
They jumped the bodies and fled up the stairs. Two more guards were disposed of, halfway up the second flight, and John found his heart pounding harder than just the adrenalin and exertion could account for. Third flight, and a corridor. The first door was open, and he glanced inside. No one was there, and he took two steps along before Ronon called him back.
"Sheppard, get in here."
It only took one step to get back, and inside. Rodney's jacket was on the end of the bed, and a stink was rising from a pool of vomit on the floor. There was blood on the sheets, red-brown streaks on the pillows, so much of it, and his whole body jerked to a stop.
"Rodney--"
The room was a good size, but there was nowhere for a missing astrophysicist to hide. He looked around wildly. "Rodney!"
"Bathroom's clear. I found this though," and Ronon held out a SGC issue radio.
John took it and turned it over in this hand. No blood on this, but .... "Shit. Where was it?"
"Under the bed."
John swore in frustration. "Dammit, McKay, where the hell are you?"
Ronon shrugged, and ambled over to the table on the far side of the room. "Looks like he stopped to eat though." Ronon ran a finger through the remains on the plate. "Huh. Tethat. They were serious about negotiating with him."
"What's he doing?"
"Escaping or negotiating," Ronon said. "Either way, he's not here. What are you going to do about it?"
John very deliberately opened his fists and took a deep breath. "What if he's badly --" He couldn't even finish that in his head, much less out loud.
"Might not be him," Ronon walked over and examined the sheets. "Can't tell." He sniffed at it and frowned.
"What?"
"Not sure it's blood." He tore a long strip off one of the pillowslips and passed it to John, who stuffed it inside a pocket. "We can check later if we have to."
"If he's had some sort of head injury--"
"He's not here now, and they're treating him well," Ronon said nodding towards the table and its cleared plates. "Tethat isn't cheap. Off of Andal it costs as much as a good sized weapons cache. They really want something from him."
John looked around the room, and picked up Rodney's jacket. "Let's go see if we can do something about that, then," he said, pushing all the 'what-ifs' away as hard as he could.
-+-
Part 3
Author:
temarisPairing: McKay/Sheppard (established)
Rating: PG
Recipient:
pollittSpoilers: Fourth season casting only.
Summary:
On Canlaon, anything is for sale.
Caveat emptor -- let the buyer beware.
Author's Note: This was intended to be a straightforward team thing, and then it got a little away from me :-) I hope you enjoy :-)
Many thanks to my last minute beta readers! You know who you are (and after the reveal everyone else will too :-) ) and you are fabulousity itself.
Part 1
"If you are determined, Teyla, my dear, there is obviously nothing I can do to stop you." Fierb leaned forward, resting his clasped hands on the table. "I should remind you, however, of the terms of entry to Canlaon." He smiled sweetly at her.
Sheppard's right hand clenched into a fist, short nails digging hard into his palm. This 'deal' just kept on getting worse.
"Certainly," Teyla said composedly. "We merely wish to locate our remaining colleague, and we will leave."
Fierb shook his head quickly. "No, you do not understand. You were permitted within the walls on the understanding that you had something to trade. If you are not trading, then your permission to remain is revoked. I am sorry." He paused a beat, "Of course, if we find Doctor McKay, and he has no reason to be here legally, we will have no choice but to obey House Rules."
John gritted his teeth. "House rules?" he said softly.
Teyla shook her head. "I understood that the Rules said that negotiators were guaranteed free status for the duration of their visit."
"Ah, I see how the misunderstanding arose," Fierb said, "an easy mistake to make. We changed the Rules." His voice hardened. "Times are harder now, Teyla Emmagan. Canlaon must make profit where it finds it. We permitted you in, although you consort with murderers and Wraith-Raisers. We will trade with anyone. And all traders are protected under the Rules. But without anything to lay on the table, Teyla Emmagan, of Athos, of Atlantis, you are not a trader, and the Rules of the House give you no protection."
He settled back into his chair and waited.
"I... see," Teyla said slowly.
"Good. I hate it when people play ignorant." Fierb regarded each of them in turn, coming back to Teyla. "So. We move on to a new game. One where we do not lie to each other about ourselves." He nodded to someone behind them and one of the armsmen came forward and dropped three or four photographs on the table, the topmost one showing a very familiar face -- John's own, with Genii writing across it. Well, that explained a lot.
"Our position is... delicate... you might say."
"Delicate, my ass," John said sweetly.
"John, this is not helping," Teyla hissed at him, her face serene as she kept her eyes on Fierb.
"I'm not feeling helpful. This is nothing more than blackmail. We trade with you or you keep Doctor McKay hostage? Is that it?"
Fierb looked taken aback for a moment, and then he chuckled genially. "No. Not at all. As you have split the group, so we have split the Trade. Whether you trade with us or not, Doctor McKay will be discussing his future in private negotiations."
"I am sorry, but as we came as a single group, so we trade and will leave as one," Teyla said firmly.
Fierb spread his hands, "And how will you enforce that? Canlaon has its walls, its traditions. We are protected."
"Protected. Riiight. And what exactly does 'private negotiations' mean?" John asked.
Fierb tilted a mocking smile at them. "That would be private."
"You would wreck any hope of a future trading relationship with both Athos and Atlantis?" Teyla asked. "Do you think our peoples will not come for Doctor McKay? For all of us?"
Fierb shrugged and said gently. "They can come."
Teyla settled back to the negotiation table, and began again. The haggling was priced higher, information for technology, grain for pharmaceutical manufacturing data. Knowledge for knowledge, Fierb said more than once, and each time, Sheppard ground his teeth.
"We need to be out there, looking for him," Ronon grumbled under his breath, and John eyed the guards in the room.
"You reckon we could take them all if they want to keep us here?" he replied quietly.
"Between the three of us? Yes."
"You want to risk Rodney's life on that?" Because he wasn't about to take that chance. Ronon subsided with one final grumble.
"We should still try. Go and find him. You don't deal with Wraith worshippers."
John's attention snapped back to the table at Teyla's raised voice and the crash of a chair. Teyla was standing.
"Enough! We are either negotiating for Doctor McKay, or he is negotiating for himself. You cannot have it both ways!" Teyla slammed her hand down on the table.
"Of course we can. The negotiations may be independent of each other; if the good doctor chooses to stay--or move on to a new home, we cannot prevent the Trade."
"Then all your negotiations are lies, and the galaxy will know that Canlaon has fallen into corruption."
Fierb laughed so abruptly that he nearly choked, and had to grab a glass of water before he could speak. "Of course you will! You'll blacken our name everywhere, oh it will be terrible. Yes, I should be terrified now, yes?" His amusement deepened, grew vicious, malicious edges. "Ask your young Satedan friend what happens to planets that go after the good name of Canlaon."
Ronon frowned, taking a second to follow the statement through, then with a roar he launched himself at Fierb, who jerked back involuntarily even as armsmen swarmed out of the walls and passages and held both Ronon and John back.
"You? You brought the Wraith down on us?"
Fierb smiled. "We will trade with anyone who has something to bring to the table. One party needs a -- thorn removed; one party needs intelligence about the potential threats to their... activities. Canlaon finds a match for each need. A simple Trade."
Ronon nearly managed to throw off the men holding him, dragging them forward with him as he threw himself forwards.
"Monster."
"Negotiator," Fierb corrected. "You Lanteans have treated with the Wraith; what was your price up on that high moral ground?"
"We never turned them on a world because they were our enemies--"
"What of Olesia? Would they agree? Or of our galaxy itself? Who woke the Wraith, John Sheppard?"
"The Wraith always come," Teyla said, one hand hard on John's wrist. "Saying we woke them is like blaming the water for reflecting the sun."
"We're nothing like you," Sheppard said. "Nothing."
"Oh, you're very like us, Lantean. You just choose to direct your pragmatism to the theater of war. We have chosen the traders' table. Everything has a price. It's just a question of what the market can bear to pay."
"Rodney McKay is not for sale!"
"But you were prepared to bring his knowledge and skills to the table, yes?"
"In the right circumstances, we are prepared to help allies," he emphasized. "People who have proven themselves trustworthy."
"And how do we poor Pegasus galaxy denizens do that, Colonel? From where I sit, it looks like the choices are try and die trying. Unless lives are lost you do not take us seriously. How many Athosians were lost, Teyla Emmagan, because John Sheppard killed the Keeper of the Hives?"
"The Hives awaken, Fierb. If we have no other constant, this is always true. The Hives waken, the ships come, no one escapes the culling altogether. Except here." Teyla's face was grave. "Here, you suffer neither the Wraith, nor any other predators. Are the old stories true? What do you do, Fierb, sell whoever displeases you to the Wraith? Your own kind, and you blame us for awakening them."
"Not my own kind, Teyla. Those who come from Outside. And we flourish for it," Fierb said easily. "My children do not fear culling. My grandparents live yet, and of my siblings, one died of a childhood illness, the rest live and have families of their own. Can you say as much?" He shook his head, mouth a little moue of distaste. "You would have us all suffer as you have, Teyla Emmagan, merely to satisfy your sense of injustice. We merely protect ourselves."
"You live at the expense of others," she said softly. "A man here. A world there. Where do you stop?"
Fierb shrugged. "When the profit dries up."
A rap on the door heralded three armsmen bearing trays. "Lunch?" Fierb asked.
"This is -- this is incredible!" Rodney couldn't stop himself looking around, taking in everything: and everything was a junk yard of galactic proportions. The deep corridors had led into what Idarial called the deep rooms, filled with gadgets and gizmos and god knew what, just waiting for the right man to come along and -- he stopped himself and blinked, trying not to remember Teram's startled eyes.
Idarial smirked, and said quietly, "This is the work of the House of Knowing. Everything you see here." He gestured widely. "I knew you would understand."
"What powers it?" He didn't understand. He wasn't the kind of man to care more about technology than the life of a boy barely out of puberty.
Idarial looked at him chidingly. "Doctor McKay."
"I know, I know, but the lack of pollution alone--" He shook his head, more and more convinced that they had to have at least one ZPM powering all of this. More, surely. The technology was the most bizarre mishmash of types and styles he had ever seen. "People trade this stuff to you?"
"Exactly." Idarial smiled at him proudly, like a teacher with a backwards pupil who had finally connected the dots. Rodney wanted to say something incredulous, but the red-brown spatter pattern on Idarial's pale blue over coat cum robe thing was more than deterrent enough.
Instead he gritted his teeth and paced alongside Idarial.
"We mostly handle raw materials and power generation here," Idarial said happily, "I understand that you have some knowledge about power sources?" His voice ended on a lift, and Rodney looked back from where he'd been staring -- what looked like a cannibalized Wraith Dart drive unit -- only much, much bigger.
"Impressive, eh? You know what it is, of course?"
"Hive sub light drive," he said almost on autopilot, hands itching to get at it. "What's the core of the unit?"
Idarial smiled at him, "Yes, yes, I knew you would see things our way!" The smiles were starting to get on his nerves.
"I'm sorry, no, actually, I'm not, I have no idea what you're talking about. See what your way? What are you talking about? And what are you doing with one of those?"
"Come and see!" Idarial ushered him over. Several of the people working on the unit looked up, greeted Idarial by name, and went straight aback to variously welding, rewiring, and analyzing computer output with what -- He looked closer. They were analyzing the data with what looked like an SGC laptop!
"Where did you get this?" he snapped, reaching for the laptop. The scientist using it pulled it out of his reach.
"We dealt for it," Idarial said readily. "I believe that one was found --"
"On Hoff," the scientist said helpfully.
Rodney clenched his teeth together. He wasn't going to --"That was stolen from my people!"
Idarial shrugged, "I can't speak to that. The negotiator had salvage title, I believe. You abandoned it when you fled the planet," he added helpfully, as though Rodney was too stupid to follow their paper thin justification for fencing stolen gods. "We'll deal with anyone, provided they have something of value to offer us."
"I see." He leaned in closer over the scientist's shoulder. "And what are you-- reconfiguring the sublight drive. You're not going to get more than about point seven five C out of it you know, no matter what you do." He thought for a moment, "You might get up to point nine if you can figure out a way to make the inertial dampeners strong enough without actually impacting the weight/speed ratios."
"C being your notation for the speed of light?" the scientist asked, frowning. "Our projections suggest--"
"Yes, yes, the numbers might work, but any practical execution will show quite clearly that as you approach light speed particles become exponentially more massive, inhibiting them from crossing the threshold." He shook his head dismissively. "If you want FTL then you'll almost certainly need a complete rethink of your science. We had to develop an entirely new branch of physics just to cope with it."
Idarial nodded, "We need a qualitative breakthrough -- not predictable and not reliable. Not profitable," he shook his head. "Much better if we bargain for the information."
"Or -- wait, why are you doing this with a Hive ship drive?" But he realized the answer even as he asked the question.
"The units are powerful, but not strong enough for extragalactic travel. The Queen who commissioned the work desires that she too be able to join the Hives that can reach the new feeding grounds."
Ice formed in the pit of his stomach. "New feeding grounds."
"Your home world, I am told." He sounded like he'd suggested crossing the street to a new restaurant, not an entire inhabited world. Not Rodney's home world.
"You're building them an FTL drive to take them to Earth and you think I will help you," he said flatly.
Idarial nodded expectantly. "Just so. It would go much quicker if we can come to a suitable exchange of knowledge."
"No!" He was backing away, "That's my -- no! You're crazy if you think I'm going to give up anything to make it easier for the Wraith to feed on my people."
"Please refrain from theatrics, Doctor McKay. Everyone has a price."
"What's the price here? Thirty pieces of silver?" The reference passed Idarial by completely, and he tilted his head quizzically.
"How large would the pieces of silver need to be?" he asked, as though about to order a stack of ingots.
"No! No, I --" he took a deep breath. "There's nothing I can do to help you."
"No?" The look on Idarial's face made the ice spread outwards. "I understand that you can be very cooperative under the right circumstances." He smiled briefly. "Drugs or physical coercion?"
"What? I -- Are you seriously asking me if I have a preference? And I don't know where you got your information but no one has ever won against me, you know." But he couldn't stop the split second glance down at his arm, the scar from Kolya's men still something he didn't look at, didn't touch except with a washcloth between his hand and it. If it didn't exist he didn't have to remember it, even if, in the end, he'd turned their confidence in his information against them.
"And yet, here you are, in our underground labs, on your own, with nothing to help you except some little toys."
"You might think they are toys --" he stopped himself, but Idarial's eyes were already lighting up.
"Not toys? What do they do? They seem too small to do anything but of course the mechanical device is far smaller than anything we've been able to make ourselves."
"So where'd the printer things come from?" Rodney asked before he could stop himself.
Idarial looked surprised. "I'm surprised you haven't worked it out, Doctor McKay. Perhaps you are not the genius you were touted to us as. The printers -- the majority of technology that you see here, is--"
"Wraith," he breathed. Of course. Why stop at doing research work for them? John had said that had been humans on the Hive ships; willing partners, informants. One had tried to seduce John, of course. He could appreciate the impulse even if he didn't approve. Logically, he should have expected something like this. Not all humans recoiled from partnership with the Wraith.
Oh.
Especially if it came with a guarantee that they would remain untouched.
"It's nothing to do with the stones, is it?"
"Stones?"
"That ridiculous story about the city walls. The stones stop the culling beam. It's just, just a lie."
"We have never lied when asked," Idarial said, his face darkening. "We do not lie."
"But you sure as hell don't tell the truth when you hear a lie, do you? You know exactly what the rest of the galaxy would think of your deal with the Wraith."
"We deal with anyone who has something of value to us, Doctor McKay. Wouldn't you? If the offer on the table was freedom from the Wraith for your entire planet? All your people safe, healthy, free?
"You are not the only ones to see the benefit in allying with the Wraith. Turn one Hive into an ally, give them something they need and they will intervene against the other Wraith for you. We have a safe world, Doctor. We have not seen a culling here in six hundred years."
"And in return you work for the Wraith," Rodney said flatly.
"How is that any different to the alliance you made with them?" At Rodney's startled look, Idarial chuckled softly. "Information is always available to those with the right price."
"We were not working for them," he insisted. The difference was small, but they had not sold out anyone else to get what they wanted. Except maybe the newly human Wraith. He winced. That was a hard memory even now, the casual way the Wraith Queen had simply fed off one of her own; no longer Wraith, no longer safe from her hands. The way he'd opened fire on the alpha site... "We thought we had a way to destroy all the Wraith."
Idarial paused. "Truly?"
Rodney shrugged. "We're still ironing out some bugs."
"Perhaps we could help you with that," Idarial said readily, and Rodney met his eyes, trying to see into the man's mind.
Maybe the differences weren't all that great between them. These people were sharing technology; Atlantis had shared systems and bio-weapons. Was the only difference really that it was only when it was his home world on the table as an offer to the Wraith that he cared who was allied with them?
No. There were deals that he still wouldn't be party to.
"No, thanks, I don't think you could offer us anything that we couldn't do better ourselves," he said coolly. "I don't think I have anything to bring to the table, here."
"No?" Idarial said mildly. His eyes lifted for a second to look over Rodney's shoulder. "A pity. However, that does not leave us without options."
He was already turning when a hand holding a pad of something cold and pungent smelling wrapped over his mouth and nose.
"If you are not willing to be a part of the negotiation, Doctor McKay," Idarial said, his voice sounding like it was coming through a distant tunnel, thin and remote, "Then you will be a part of the deal."
"That's it," John muttered under his breath to Ronon, who was munching on some sort of flaked fish. "I'm going after him."
Teyla shook her head, leaning in. "Have you heard some news of Rodney, Colonel?"
Reluctantly John shook his head. "Not as such, but you keep these guys busy for a couple of hours, and I bet Ronon and I could track McKay; shake this place up a little."
"Follow the explosions and shouting," Ronon suggested, and John nearly smiled at that.
"We can't just leave him like this."
"We don't know for sure that he is even in trouble," Teyla reminded him.
"I have a bad feeling," John said stubbornly.
"Fierb could be bluffing -- the Canlaons are expert negotiators. They have put their best man to the job of bargaining with us. John, I know how these people operate. We have not seen more than the merest beginning of the strategy. I do not believe now that it was an accident that we met Fierb as we did. However, that does not mean we should despair for Doctor McKay." She cautiously touched a hand to his wrist for a second, and then went on, "We must see this through. If we cannot bring this to the real point of the negotiations--"
"And what if the point is to delay us from locating McKay so they can sell him to the highest bidder?" Ronon said.
"They do that?" John asked. "They're slavers?"
Ronon shrugged. "Slavers, recruitment specialists, negotiators. They are whatever gets them the deal they want. The only people that the Canlaon care about are the Canlaon."
"They have been good friends to the Athosians," Teyla insisted.
"Not good enough to offer your people sanctuary," Ronon snapped. "Nor mine." His face darkened.
"I don’t think I need to hear any more about the damn Ferengi," John said his back and neck starting to tighten up. "Ronon, you're with me. Teyla--"
She nodded at him. "I will stall the negotiations so far as I may. As long as we negotiate we remain protected under their own Rules."
"We have another --" he checked his watch, "four hours before they expect a check-in back home."
"I can get within radio distance of the gate in fifteen minutes from here."
John twitched his eyebrows up at Ronon, but made no comment. Having run with the man he wouldn't bet against it. Especially if they were in a hurry.
"We call the Daedalus in if any one of us is still missing at check-in."
They nodded and separated.
"Let's go see this amazing House of Records."
The heat of the day beat down on them, his black t-shirt too hot, but he kept walking, Ronon pacing alongside smoothly, like they had a hundred times before. More. The sun was almost directly overhead, dry, leeching moisture away from everything. Too hot to speak even; it felt like the saliva was drying out of his mouth as he spoke, cracking open his skin and showing too much.
“That’s where we stopped.” Ronon nodded at an open door. John took a step towards it and recoiled.
“Jesus! You went in there? Rodney went in there?”
“It wasn’t as bad this morning.” Ronon conceded, not going any closer than he already was.
“Forget it.” He shook his head, then grimaced.
Ronon waited, and John took a deep breath. “I’ll be a minute.”
It took no time to look around the place, raw sewage running along an open culvert through the middle of it.
He didn’t breathe, but that didn’t feel all that different.
Outside again he shook his head, already moving briskly up the street, taking in quick gasps of air until the relief of oxygen was overtaken by the way his throat was drying up. He drank some water, offered it to Ronon, who shook his head.
So fucking hot. The light was desert brilliant, echoing off the golden walls until it felt like they walked through towering canyons of sand dunes, etched out with doors and windows; the splashes of red flowers, bright buttons holding down a vast net of green, binding it into place. It was the flowers holding back the stench he could feel crawling at the edges of his senses, roiling his stomach, he was sure of it.
Passersby watched them curiously from under broad brimmed hats; a quick sweep over their bodies and packs, dip to the wrist where they had clipped the bone tags, and a flicker of a glance to the side, looking for the state spies. The shops looked pleasantly dim and cool inside, and they eyed each one, ignoring the bolts of fabric, piles of mismatched tech, tea houses, food shops with haunches of dried meat, flies crawling over the wrinkled flesh; fruit, different and yet familiar, as though the universe had only so many ways to seed itself. Or humans had only so much tolerance for new kinds of plants.
No sign anywhere. He wasn't even sure what he was looking for. Had they kidnapped Rodney, or just -- kept him interested in stuff until he didn't notice he was incommunicado? Was he okay and --
Okay. That way lay insanity and loss of focus.
Should they be asking as they went? They didn't have a picture of Rodney even if they wanted to pass one around, and he wasn't really sure that it would be a good idea anyway.
"This is the House of Records," Ronon said, and John nodded as though his mind had never gone anywhere but their destination. He pushed his sunglasses back up and grinned.
"Washed your hands and face, Ronon?"
Ronon just looked at him, and John's grin widened. "Let's see what they have to say to us this time."
What they principally had to say was, "You can't go in there! Colonel Sheppard! Colonel Sheppard, I promise you, Doctor McKay was not -- no!" as John stalked through the House of Records, summarily slamming open doors, and sweeping rooms with long, fast strides.
"Colonel Sheppard, I assure you that Doctor McKay -- that is the ancient artifacts room! It is climate controlled and--" The man was actually wringing his hands. "Please, some of the artifacts are quite, quite priceless."
John smiled genially at him. "Well, maybe I'll find a priceless artifact all of my own in there then." He examined the keypad, and raised an eyebrow. "Pretty high tech for this place."
Ronon glanced over. "Looks like Olesian work."
Sheppard cocked his head at Arde. "So it does. Do you know what happened to Olesia, Arde?"
Arde wrung his hands some more, not meeting Sheppard's eyes.
When the man made no effort to respond, John added, "We did. Key code, Arde."
"Oh, no, I -- I don't think-"
"You don't have it? Too bad. Ronon, open the door for me." He leaned back to Arde and spoke confidentially, "I love this bit. I never know what he's going to destroy next, but it's always fun. Hey, you don't have anything important on the other side of the wall, do you?"
"No!"
"Cool. Go ahead Ronon."
Ronon smiled and raised his gun to aim it at the door hinges.
"No, here, the, the code, please, let me--" Arde squeezed past John, breathing in to make sure they didn't touch. He flinched as both men's weapons followed him.
"Don't do anything stupid, Arde," John said, still smiling.
Arde visibly hesitated, then slumped a little, and tapped a rapid pattern over the keypad. "Please be careful, there's nothing of any -- Colonel Sheppard!"
John stared around the room, then pulled his sunglasses off and stared some more. "Wow."
"You know what this stuff is?" Ronon asked quietly, and John shook his head.
"Some of it. Maybe. But put McKay and Zelenka in here and we wouldn't see them for a month."
If anything, Arde looked more distressed. "Colonel Sheppard, you shouldn't say things like that."
"Oh, really?" John turned slowly and regarded the anxious librarian narrowly. Arde shook his head mutely, then reached back to pull the door to the room closed.
"I need to protect --" he broke off with a squeak as Ronon took two quick steps toward him and gripped his shirt, pulling him up on tiptoes.
"You better not be trapping us in here," Ronon said. Arde shook his head, tugging at the twisted collar around his throat, trying to breathe.
"Quiet in h-here. No surveillance. Closed security feed. I'm the only one -- no sound pickup."
John smiled. Arde didn't look comforted by it. "Convenient."
"Colonel, I," he wrung his hands, "I would not say, but there is Teram, and--"
"I think this is getting kind of boring. Do you think it's boring, Ronon?"
"I was bored ten minutes ago."
John shrugged at Arde, "Short attention span. What can I do?"
"Doctor McKay was taken by the research branch," he whispered. "They wanted to see if he knew what was wrong with one of their machines."
That was a little too pat. "And you're telling us this because ...?"
"They killed one of the junior staff members here." Arde's face twisted with distress.
"Friend of yours?" John said, and almost regretted his light tone when Arde burst out with:
"He was a good boy! He didn't deserve to die!"
"Doctor McKay didn't deserve to be kidnapped and held against his will." He held Arde's eyes steadily, waiting.
"I don't understand why they killed him," Arde mumbled, his voice bewildered and forlorn.
"If it would make you happier I can kill you too," Ronon rumbled into his ear, and Arde yelped and jumped. He didn't get far with Ronon gripping the back of his shirt.
"Ronon," John chided him mildly, "Put Arde down. He only wants to help. You do want to help, don't you?"
Arde ducked his head once, and whether that was meant to be a yes or a submission, he'd take it. "Where's Doctor McKay, Arde?"
Arde bit his lip. "The researchers live below the city."
"Do they?" Suddenly, a bunch of things made sense. "Live in bunkers do they?" Why hadn't he thought of it sooner? The Genii weren't going to be the only ones to figure out that it might be possible to advance technologically if it was sufficiently out of the Wraith's view.
Except... he frowned, no, that really didn't make sense. Rodney had picked up on the abnormal power levels coming off of Canlaon from a few miles away. The Wraith would have been able to spot it from space, easily. So -- what was he missing here?
"They hold our lives lightly because they believe that they are the ones who protect us from --"
"From the Wraith," Ronon snarled.
"From the Wraith?" John said a split second after Ronon. "This isn't telling me where Doctor McKay is, Arde. Ronon, I think our friend here needs a little persuading."
Ronon stepped in close, and Arde stumbled backwards. "No, no, they, they'll, I'll-- It's below. Under Canlaon."
"You already told us that, Arde. Arde, I'm getting kind of tired of this. And Ronon's looking bored." He dropped all pretence of friendliness and looked coldly at the librarian. "You don't want to see what happens when we get bored."
Arde swallowed, and shook his head again. "I'm, I'm trying, I-- all my life, we never. I can't -- but Teram was--"
"Teram was the kid who got killed?" Ronon was oddly kind sounding, and John cut a sidelong glance at him. He was simply watching Arde, a curious expression on his face.
"Yes." Arde suddenly just looked like a sad old man, not the cool professional master of the house that he'd seemed when they first met. "Teram."
"Nice kid?"
Arde smiled painfully. "A good boy. Enthusiastic; prattled on about the least little thing -- oh, he drove us insane at times."
John couldn't help the quick grin, "And you sent him with Doctor McKay? That must have driven Rodney nuts."
Arde laughed a little hysterically, closed his eyes. "They slit his throat."
For one heart stopping moment John thought they meant Rodney and it felt like everything in him, everything, stopped, too frozen to think.
"Rodney--" he croaked, and Ronon was suddenly very close, a knife in his hand.
Arde shook his head, eyes wide, "No, no, they -- They took him away; they wanted to negotiate with him -- skills, knowledge, artifacts. Anything that he wanted to share really."
He ignored Ronon's narrow-eyed stare and asked, "And if he didn't want to negotiate any of those?"
Arde frowned, as though John had asked why the sky was made of marshmallow. "But everyone wants to negotiate, it's just a matter of setting the right price."
John loosened his hands out of the fists they'd curled up into and said softly, "And if the price is his life? Or someone else's?"
Arde wouldn't meet his eyes. "The negotiation -- that's what--"
"Cut the crap," Ronon said abruptly. "If you didn't know something was seriously wrong you wouldn't be dragging us into secure rooms without security feeds to tell us this stuff. Where's McKay?"
Arde blinked, then nodded, straightening up as though the brusque demands had strengthened his resolve.
"Here." He led them to a terminal and swiftly brought up a schematic. He tapped the screen. "This is where we are." He dragged a fingernail down the screen, and the schematic twisted into a three dimensional representation of the building, and the areas beneath it. "Down, and then here, and here to the main halls of the researchers, and then further to the west, here are the guest rooms."
Ronon and John exchanged a look at 'guest' but said nothing. "He may be here. Does that -- will that be enough to find him?"
"You could always come with us," John said, and Arde blanched, his tanned skin fading to the color of cold tea.
"No, I, I couldn't. I can show you the way in, you, you can find him. They'll keep him in one of the guest chambers." He looked anxiously to and fro. "His knowledge is valuable, very valuable. They will not harm him."
"You're sure they're not going to sell him to the highest bidder?" Ronon asked.
"No! I mean, I -- I don't think they would. As long as he has knowledge to trade with us there would be no reason to trade him away to someone else. It would be madness."
"Madness." John looked over Arde's head at Ronon. "McKay. He's doomed."
A smile twitched at the corners of Ronon's lips. "Never knows when to keep his mouth shut. Where's the entrance?"
Arde blinked, "Oh, um, the route I showed you -- do you remember the route?"
"Yeah, but--" Ronon was staring at him and John winced. "Okay, fine. Can you print off a copy of the map?" John asked.
Arde ducked his head a little, "Do not lose it -- and tell no one you have it." Arde reached over and a moment later several sheets churned through. "Here." He glanced at John then at Ronon, and arranged the sheets on the table. "Here, this is the entrance you need. Go right out of here, there's a door on the right halfway down the corridor. Take it and keep heading down until you hit the Halls of Knowledge."
"And we'll know we're there because...?"
Arde pursed his lips. "You'll know."
Teyla nodded, "Before I can agree to anything I must talk to Doctor McKay. In person."
Fierb shook his head, "Teyla --"
"I am happy to continue negotiations, but we cannot abandon one of our own merely on your word." His eyes flickered away for a split second -- in a negotiator of Fierb's experience and caliber this was astonishing, and Teyla leaned in to press the point. "If you can shift the grounds of the negotiation on me, then I can do so also." She smiled at him.
He raised his eyebrows at her. "I can hardly compare the two," he said.
Teyla shrugged. "I do not agree. All negotiations and trades agreed here are contingent on the agreement of Doctor McKay." Which of course shifted the ground again, from merely a proof of life requirement to making McKay's active participation --and agreement -- necessary. Now to see how badly they wanted for pursue the trade.
"Oh, Teyla," he looked at her, feigned disappointment on his face. "And I had such high hopes for you."
"And I of you," she said mildly.
There was a short silence and then he shrugged. "Very well. If a deal is agreed, Doctor McKay will witness it."
"Freely, and of his own accord."
"Of course," Fierb smiled slowly. "I think he will be very happy with our terms."
"Then we shall continue?"
"Unless you wish to break for food or to consult your friends -- I do hope they are enjoying the House of Knowledge?"
"My colleagues will contact me when they need to do so," she said. And there was that twitch again. She wondered what exactly the three men were up to -- and how Fierb knew about it. They needed time, and she would find them it. "The matter of diagnostic machinery."
"Two guards," John murmured. "Ronon?"
Ronon's face brightened. "No problem."
"Don't kill them, we just want to get them out of the way, not make enemies," John warned, and Ronon rolled his eyes. He slipped around the corner and John followed. Two shots from Ronon's gun illuminated the corridor before he could even get close enough to attack, and a moment later, the guards were lying on the floor. A quick check reassured Sheppard that they were just unconscious.
"Not leaving live enemies at our back would be smarter, Sheppard," Ronon said disapprovingly.
Sheppard shrugged. "Nobody's dead yet. Let's try to keep it that way."
"Nobody on our side," Ronon reminded him, and when John looked blankly at him, said, "The boy." It took John a moment to remember.
"You never even met him."
"Just keeping count."
John stared at him for a moment then nodded curtly. "All the more reason to show them we're not like that," he replied, and picked up the pace "We're wasting time."
They'd been walking for some time when the corridor widened out --stairs both up and down, and two corridors branched away.
"Got the map?"
They pored over it, but before they could agree on a direction, a rumbling sound from below them followed by a dull boom made them look up.
"That way," John said, relief flooding him. "I think I hear the sounds of a mad scientist."
The room at the foot of the stairs was vast, big enough to house an Ancient warship -- if only they were that lucky. Instead it was filled with technological detritus and scurrying scientists who barely looked up as they walked in.
"Where the hell did all this come from?" John said under his breath. It was meant rhetorically, but a pretty blue eyed scientist sitting at the nearest pile of junk looked up and smiled.
"Deals and Trades, elder," she said. "Have you come to negotiate materials in or out?"
John couldn't think of a thing to say. He'd been expecting shrieks of 'guards!', not cheerful offers to trade.
"Out, I think," Ronon said easily, a warning hand tightening on John's wrist.
John nodded, catching on. "We're down a couple of items back home, and we were kind of hoping, you know..." he trailed off hopefully. She glanced at his wrist -- the tags -- and nodded.
"Of course, elder. I'm not authorized to Trade, but if you see anything you like, just ask for it to be put aside, and we can add them to your negotiation."
"Sounds good. What do you think, Ronon?"
Ronon grunted.
"He thinks it's a great idea too," he leaned in and said with an air of sharing confidences. She blushed. "So, we'll just, you know, look around. Let you know when we're done browsing."
Ronon shoved him away and he waved a cheery goodbye.
"What are you doing?" he whispered, "I was getting information out of her."
"McKay's computer."
"Where?"
Ronon jerked his head off to the left. "Play it cool."
John scowled, but followed.
It was definitely from Earth. The decals had been peeled off, but had left a dirty sticky pattern that was very familiar.
"Fully functional, elder." This time it was a young man who popped up. "Just one careful previous owner." John shook his head.
"Got one at home just like that," he said. "Now, if I had someone who could show me how to use it ..."
"We can negotiate for that, elder," the young man said brightly. "Lessons are available on a fixed rate, variable according to the level of expertise required."
"And if I wanted a lot of expertise?"
"You'd better have a lot to trade," he said cheerfully. He held out a blue rectangular plastic strip. "If you're interested, that's my chit. Daness. Anyone can point you my way."
"Thanks." John tucked it into a pocket and moved on feeling vaguely bemused.
"I'm guessing they haven't noticed we're not supposed to be here," Ronon said softly, waving off another eager to sell scientist.
"Yeah. Keep walking like you're meant to be here," John replied. Ronon looked at him. "All right, fine."
"We should try the radios," Ronon said.
John nodded. He rubbed at his ear, and muttered, "McKay? You there?" There was nothing but static, and he wished he knew what was happening to Rodney.
He shook his head fractionally at Ronon.
"He might be fine," Ronon said encouragingly.
"Weren't you the one talking about slavers?"
"Or he might not," Ronon conceded. "Sheppard, look. He'll be fine. He's too valuable to kill."
"That's not as reassuring as -- " They were interrupted by a loud shout, and they looked at each other, back towards where they'd come in. A number of armsmen wearing the uniform of the House of the Exterior were running towards them. They looked at each other.
"Oops." They ran.
Shots rang out. They split apart almost reflexively, presenting a smaller target area. "You remember any exits?"
"That way!" Ronon called back, nodding off to the leftmost corner of the enormous room.
"Oh, great," he muttered. "I'll see you there," he called back, and kept running, weaving in and out of the piles of ancient junk. One pile exploded as shots riddled it, just missing him as he sprinted past it. He winced as Ancient technology sprayed everywhere, shattering and clattering to the floor. The scientist near the pile shrieked with horror, adding to the cacophony of the outraged House of Knowledge scientists. He glanced back. The scientists weren't impressed. They were desperately protecting their small hoards --in some cases with weapons.
Blue light flooded the place for a second, and he guessed that someone had broken out a Wraith stunner. Red light answered it, and he didn't dare to stop to wonder if Ronon was okay. He ducked low and swung around a mountain of Ancient control crystals, then shouldered roughly into the pile, knocking it over and taking out two of the closest armsmen.
They made a spectacular crash and he quickly fled in the opposite direction from the mayhem as scientists converged, apparently intent on rescuing crystals from the heavy boots of the armsmen.
Two minutes later he ran up to the agreed exit and found Ronon there, holding his gun on a couple of scientists.
"I've got a lead on McKay," he said, and jerked the gun towards the shorter of the two prisoners. "Tell him."
"He's in the private guest quarters," the man said frantically, "Through there, up three flights, on the left, you can't miss it!"
"You better not be lying," John said very softly, and the scientist's back straightened.
"I don't know what you take me for, elder. I've made a Trade and the deal is good."
"Ronon?"
"Information in return for his life."
"Huh. I thought the idea was no enemies left behind?"
Ronon grinned. "I thought we'd try it your way."
John just glared at him.
"McKay?"
John turned on his heel and pushed through the door. There were guards on this side too. He caught one under the chin with his elbow and the other collapsed as Ronon ripped a knife through his gut.
They jumped the bodies and fled up the stairs. Two more guards were disposed of, halfway up the second flight, and John found his heart pounding harder than just the adrenalin and exertion could account for. Third flight, and a corridor. The first door was open, and he glanced inside. No one was there, and he took two steps along before Ronon called him back.
"Sheppard, get in here."
It only took one step to get back, and inside. Rodney's jacket was on the end of the bed, and a stink was rising from a pool of vomit on the floor. There was blood on the sheets, red-brown streaks on the pillows, so much of it, and his whole body jerked to a stop.
"Rodney--"
The room was a good size, but there was nowhere for a missing astrophysicist to hide. He looked around wildly. "Rodney!"
"Bathroom's clear. I found this though," and Ronon held out a SGC issue radio.
John took it and turned it over in this hand. No blood on this, but .... "Shit. Where was it?"
"Under the bed."
John swore in frustration. "Dammit, McKay, where the hell are you?"
Ronon shrugged, and ambled over to the table on the far side of the room. "Looks like he stopped to eat though." Ronon ran a finger through the remains on the plate. "Huh. Tethat. They were serious about negotiating with him."
"What's he doing?"
"Escaping or negotiating," Ronon said. "Either way, he's not here. What are you going to do about it?"
John very deliberately opened his fists and took a deep breath. "What if he's badly --" He couldn't even finish that in his head, much less out loud.
"Might not be him," Ronon walked over and examined the sheets. "Can't tell." He sniffed at it and frowned.
"What?"
"Not sure it's blood." He tore a long strip off one of the pillowslips and passed it to John, who stuffed it inside a pocket. "We can check later if we have to."
"If he's had some sort of head injury--"
"He's not here now, and they're treating him well," Ronon said nodding towards the table and its cleared plates. "Tethat isn't cheap. Off of Andal it costs as much as a good sized weapons cache. They really want something from him."
John looked around the room, and picked up Rodney's jacket. "Let's go see if we can do something about that, then," he said, pushing all the 'what-ifs' away as hard as he could.
Part 3
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