“Well, better, yes,” Carter said. “It’s entirely possible that they’ve found most of Rodney’s back doors into the system.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’,” Lorne said.
“Maybe not,” Carter said. “It’s just that he’s been working with these computers for five years, and I have some idea how being in this kind of job makes you think.”
“And?” Lorne said when she hesitated.
“I’m just saying that if I were locked out of the SGC’s computers, I’m not sure what odds I’d give anybody trying to keep me from breaking back in.” She shrugged. “It was always a problem. The only way to make it perfectly safe if one of us were compromised was to make sure there weren’t any back doors into the system, but if there weren’t any back doors, we wouldn’t be able to get back in if there were a foothold situation. I’m not saying that we had unauthorized means of access into the computer system — ”
“No, ma’am,” Lorne said. She certainly was not saying that, in so many words.
“I’m just saying that from everything I know about Rodney, I think he worried a lot less about being compromised than about being locked out of Atlantis’s computers and not being able to get back in.”
“So what do we do?”
Carter shrugged again. “What we’re doing. If we can even just make it more of a challenge for him to break in, it means we’ll have more time to react if he tries it again. And we need to get the mechanical iris ready as soon as we can.”
“I’ll just be here with these supply forms,” Lorne said. “If the Wraith attack, I figure you’ll let me know.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” Carter said. “Take it easy, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lorne said, but he found that somehow the conversation hadn’t exactly eased his mind.
William hoisted his laptop bag higher onto his shoulder and tried to look as though he’d been ordered to join the Atlantis delegation rather than just attaching himself to it. And it wasn’t as though he’d been told not to join the group. He simply hadn’t asked, just shown up as though it was his business to be there, which was a skill he had honed at the SGC, when there was a lot more competition for the really interesting jobs. Besides, this was exactly the sort of mission that called for — well, it called for an anthropologist, really, but he was the closest they had. He took his place at the back of the group waiting for the control room to dial the gate, out of Sheppard’s line of sight. Sheppard was busy with Lorne anyway, the latter leaning heavily on his crutches and nodding at some last minute instruction…
“I didn’t know you were coming.”
Of course that was Radek. He had paused to check on the progress of the mechanical iris — which was, William noted, looking almost complete, only the gearing that would let it open and close still to install — and that had brought them almost face to face.
“Team archeologist,” William said.
“These people are alive,” Radek said.
“And kicking, some of them,” William murmured, in spite of himself, and Radek gave him the look that deserved.
“Now I am trying to remember how many times you told me you were not an anthropologist.”
“I’m what you’ve got,” William said.
To his surprise, Radek gave a crooked little smile. “There is that, too.”
“Dialing!” a Marine called, and everyone took a few steps backward as the first symbol lit and locked. The gate turned, turned again, and locked, and the great plume of the unstable wormhole lanced out into the gate room. There were few things as beautiful, William thought. Even the lambent pool of the open Stargate was not as astonishing as that first burst of blue. At the head of the group, Sheppard looked over his shoulder, frowning slightly, almost unconsciously, and waved for them to follow.
They emerged into the now-familiar gate square, more crowded, though, than William had seen before. He recognized Cai, and the stocky woman, Arden, who had owned a string of tea-shops and now fed the settlement, but there was a second group, standing a little apart, who had to be un-returned Satedans. Some of those were wearing what looked like military uniform, black trousers and indigo jackets badged with knots of black and silver cord, discreet but elegant. There were four of them, standing together, subtly apart from both the returned and the expatriate, and William slanted a glance toward Ronon, wondering who they were. The big man was carefully not looking in their direction, but from that very care, William thought he was very aware of their presence. An elite unit? Some civilian authority? They carried sidearms, though, in holsters wound with silver filigree. He filed the question for later.
The Stargate lit again, and the first of the Genii delegation came through. He recognized Ladon Radim from Atlantis’s files, short, dapper, neatly bearded — quite handsome, really — and guessed that the taller blond woman at his side was the sister, Dahlia, who was also Chief of Sciences. None of the others were in the files, and their drab, gray-green uniforms gave no clue even to relative rank. And that, William thought, was interesting. The uniforms proclaimed a radical equality that was entirely lacking in the society: another indication, perhaps, of intrinsic instability.
“There is trouble,” Radek said under his breath, and William followed his gaze to see Sora and a couple of soldiers emerging from between two of the collapsed buildings. She had chosen an oblique approach, one that emphasized she and her people were already here, and William thought he saw the faintest of frowns cross Radim’s face. Cai glared openly, and the other Satedans muttered among themselves. Sheppard bit his lip, and moved to intercept her and Radim, so that visually, at least, he was the arbiter.
“What is her problem?” William said softly, under the introductions, and Radek rolled his eyes.
“Teyla was responsible — indirectly and unintentionally, but responsible — for her father’s death. She hasn’t forgiven that.”
“One wouldn’t, I suppose,” William murmured. She and Dahlia were the only women among the Genii delegation: also an interesting contrast to the Satedans, and to what he’d seen of the Athosians. “Who are the ones in blue, do you know?”
Radek shook his head. “Ronon does not talk about Sateda. We thought they were all dead.”
There were several answers to that, none of them appropriate. William peered over the top of his glasses at the open-sided pavilion that had been set up toward the far end of the square. Long narrow banners hung like streamers from the corner poles, and the canopy was a dusty burgundy; he wondered where they’d found it, and what traditions it represented. Cai gestured broadly, waving them all toward it, and William trailed behind the others, the sun warm on his back.
There weren’t enough chairs at the three-sided table for everyone, of course, just for the leaders and a pair of aides apiece. Sheppard took the middle chair, flanked by Caldwell and Ronon; Cai and Arden and one of the blue-coated men took the Satedan side, and Radim was joined by an older man, bald and scowling, and a fair-haired, nondescript man with a bandaged hand. The rest of their parties clustered half in and half out of the shade, milling quietly behind their principals.
“Right,” Sheppard said. “Glad everyone’s here. Introductions first, for the record.” He took a breath. “Lt. Col. John Sheppard, commander of Atlantis. Colonel Stephen Caldwell, of the Daedalus; Ronon Dex.”
“Mr. Woolsey will not be joining us?” Radim said, with a lifted eyebrow.
“He had to return to Earth,” Sheppard said. “This didn’t seem like it could wait.”
Radim’s eyebrows rose even higher, but he nodded. “Ladon Radim, Chief of the Genii. Commander Carel Sar, Speaker Reiter Telez.”
The commander was the one with the bandaged hand. That title was no surprise, but William wondered exactly what the Speaker’s role was in their government. Sheppard nodded once, and looked at Cai.