“Ushan Cai, head of the Satedan provisional government — ”
Radim leaned forward, folding his hands on the tabletop. “Surely that’s part of what we’re discussing here. Not a given.”
“And if you’re not willing to acknowledge that,” Cai retorted, “there’s no point in these discussions.”
Out of the corner of his eye, William saw Teyla shift slightly, as though she would have liked to answer. Sheppard said, “Let’s stipulate that nobody’s agreeing to anything right at this point.” Deliberately or not, he had used the same tone he used with Torren, and a smile flickered across Teyla’s face.
Radim’s expression didn’t change, but he leaned back. “As long as that’s clearly understood,” he said.
Cai snorted, but gestured to the woman at his right. “Arden Mai, second-in-charge, and Colonel Kashek Yan, senior commander of the Satedan Band.”
“And is the Band taking an official interest?” Radim asked.
“We hold a watching brief,” Yan answered. “On behalf of those Satedans who wait to return.”
“Then I’m not sure we can agree to your presence,” Radim said.
William barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes. It was obvious what Radim was trying to do, derail the talks before they could get started, and equally obvious that these weren’t serious protests. Under cover of the rising voices, he leaned forward to speak in Radek’s ear.
“What’s the Satedan Band?”
Radek shrugged, and to William’s surprise, Teyla glanced over her shoulder. “They are a famous elite unit among the Satedans, oath-bound to each other and to their service.”
William lifted his own eyebrows at that, wondering if he was reading in more than was intended, and Sheppard tapped on the table.
“OK. Then Colonel Yan stays.”
“This speaks to the basic question under discussion,” Radim said. “Sateda was abandoned — with good cause, no world Culled as deeply as Sateda was can survive. Her people scattered and found new lives. Colonel Yan is an excellent example of this, and he himself says he’s not returning. Sateda as we knew it is no more. Now we are — as Colonel Sheppard, and indeed everyone, is aware — in need of every scrap of Ancient technology that we can salvage to try to make some stand against Queen Death. A group of scavengers squatting in the wreckage — who cannot even use the technology they’re denying to others — is not Sateda.”
“We are Sateda,” Cai said. “This is our world, our home. Neither the Genii nor anyone else have any right to our resources.”
“You can’t use what you have,” Telez blurted.
“Then why not trade for it?” Sheppard asked. “It seems to me you’ve both got some opportunities here — ”
“Meaning no offense,” Radim said, in the tone that meant precisely the opposite, “but I see no reason we should withdraw and leave Atlantis in charge.”
“We’re here to trade,” Sheppard said, firmly. “And no offense taken.”
“That’s what they all say.”
William couldn’t see who had said that, but there was a murmur of laughter from among the Genii. It was going to be a very long day.
Chapter Nineteen
Diplomacy
The sun was setting behind the broken roofs, sending long shadows across the gate square. The last of the light shimmered on the top of the gate, the naquadah gleaming as though it were oiled or wet, the shadow of the ring stretching out behind it. Cai’s people were setting up trestles, laying out food and drink they’d gotten from somewhere, and John frowned, trying to think what was wrong. Or, no, not wrong, but missing. Because there was an absence, something that should be there… Children, he realized abruptly. On almost every other world he’d visited, when the party began, the food came out and the torches were lit, there would be children in the background, either helping, or watching with excitement to see the latest travelers from another world. That was the thing he still couldn’t get his mind around — well, yes, his mind, but not his heart, not the bone-deep certainty that anyone at all could open the Stargate and walk to another world. That Sateda might be destroyed, her cities burned, but her people could find refuge, and a way home again. Not like Afghanistan…
He shied away from that thought, and saw Teyla give him a curious look. She did not comment, however, merely held out a wide-mouthed cup. He took it, sniffing warily, but it smelled only of smoke and herbs.
“Dr. Lynn says he believes it to contain something like caffeine,” Teyla said.
“Yeah?” John took a careful sip, decided it tasted a little bit like lemons and mint. And smoke, which was disconcerting. “You know, I don’t remember including him in this.”
Teyla smiled. “He says this is his job.”
John smiled back, took another sip of the — he supposed it was a tea. “It’s not going to replace coffee,” he said. He looked back at the tables, where the Marines were hauling lamps into place, and Radek was tinkering with the generator: Atlantis’s contribution to the party, light and pole heaters for the chill ahead. “How do you think it’s going?”
Teyla’s smile widened. “It is… going. This will take time, and I do not believe that Ladon Radim wishes it to be settled quickly.”
“Not so much,” John said. He glanced over his shoulder, checking the rest of the Atlantis team. One of the Satedans had come over to look at the generator, and he and Radek were talking now, gesturing as though they were sketching plans on the air. Ronon was talking to Cai and one of the Satedan Band — not Yan, a younger, more lightly built man with crooked teeth and a wide smile. Caldwell, stiff-backed and poker-faced, was listening to Sar and one of the other Genii officers, and Dahlia Radim was talking to Sora. Hopefully telling her to be sensible, John thought, but knew better than to believe it. “It’s not exactly to his advantage.”
“No…” Teyla’s expression changed, and John turned, not surprised to see Radim approaching, the blond aide Ambrus at his heels.
“Chief Ladon.”
“Colonel Sheppard.” Radim gave a thin, unfriendly smile. “I am sorry Mr. Woolsey is unable to be with us. When will he be back, can you say?”
“I’m afraid I can’t,” John said, with a smile of his own. From Teyla’s lifted eyebrow, he guessed it hadn’t been successful. “The situation was fluid. But he left me with full authority.”
“I’m sure he did,” Radim said.
He thinks I killed him. John felt his mouth drop open, closed it sharply. Son of a bitch. That was about the last thing he’d expected, and it annoyed him more than he would have imagined. “How’s it going with Avenger?” he asked, and Radim frowned.
“Avenger? Oh. We’ve renamed her Pride of the Genii.”
“Her name’s Avenger,” John said. It was unreasonable to be angry about that, but the Ancient warship he’d rescued for them had had a name, and a personality: a sweet ship, willing, glad to be awakened. He had liked her a lot. “How is the project coming?”
“We’re making progress,” Radim said, stiffly. “And it would be going faster if we were free to make use of the technology abandoned here.”
John could see Teyla looking at him as though she would like to kick him, and forced another smile. “Well, that’s what we’re here to work out.”
“Both your people and mine need what’s here,” Radim said. “You can’t seriously mean to maintain that this is a viable government. Fifty people — at the most — squatting in the ruins, bringing in supplies from off-world.” He shook his head. “And if the Wraith come, what happens then?”