“All of our people are Satedan,” Cai said. “Those of us who have returned, and those of us who never will. If you can’t understand that, you don’t understand very much about us.”
“I don’t need to understand much about you,” Sora said.
Cai shook his head at her. “I can see that you’ve never been a trader,” he said. “You may find when you don’t get what you want by demanding it that you change your mind about that. Please enjoy our hospitality, if any of it suits you. I have other people I need to talk to.”
Sora watched him go, trying not to feel that she’d handled that badly. If she’d made up to him, been soft and apologetic the way Dahlia wanted her to, he’d never have believed her. At least she’d tried honesty, not that it seemed to be worth much.
She hesitated, and then reached for one of the cups on the table. She was beginning to feel like a drink wouldn’t be a bad idea.
By the time it seemed possible for John to get enough people back into the conference tent to formally adjourn the meeting for the evening, there didn’t seem to be much point. The Genii had set up tents of their own, provoking glares but not arguments from the Satedans, and everyone was making serious inroads on the food and drink. Cai’s people had brought out oil lamps, and some of the open windows around the square cast more lamplight into the street.
Darkness softened the jagged shapes of the buildings against the sky, but it made the square seem like a fragile oasis of light in a big, dark desert. There were no distant lights at the outskirts of town, no moving headlights or lit lamps beyond the square. Just a big, dark ruin, empty of people the way no city on Earth stayed empty for long, no matter how bad the damage had been.
The square was anything but empty, though, and anything but quiet. Radim was talking intently to Teyla, who looked like her patience was being tested by whatever he was saying, although her polite smile didn’t fade. Across the square, Ronon was apparently introducing Dahlia Radim to a Satedan woman who John thought he remembered as one of Cai’s engineers. A good move, but he could probably use Radek, who would have more idea what they were talking about.
John looked around for him, and found him on the fringes of the crowd with a cup of whatever liquor Cai had broken out for the occasion in hand. There were still cups of the smoky tea set out, but they’d gone cold, and most people seemed to have moved on to the heavy drinking portion of the evening. That might be a good thing, or really not, but he expected they’d find out which.
“I think Ronon’s trying to get Dalia Radim and some of Cai’s people to bond over science,” John said. “He could maybe use some backup in that department.”
“Right,” Radek said resignedly, draining the cup and setting it down. “Is there any sign that we’re getting anywhere?”
“At least they’re talking,” John said. “We’re going to have to sit down again in the morning and see if anybody’s willing to bend at all, but maybe if they can start seeing each other as people, it’ll make them a little more sympathetic to each other’s problems.”
“Yes, that is a theory,” Radek said. He sounded as skeptical as John felt.
John ran a hand through his hair. He was pretty sure that by this point Elizabeth would have come up with some creative solution to the problem and figured out how to bully everyone into accepting it. Woolsey would have kept everyone at the conference table, on the theory that fatigue and boredom would eventually motivate them to actually negotiate. In hindsight, that might have been the way to go.
“Or maybe they’re just going to grandstand at each other, but at least right now they’re talking and not fighting,” he said. As he said it, he wondered if that was true; he could hear rising voices, and when he looked up, one edge of the crowd seemed to be turning into a pitched argument between some of the Genii officers and what looked like about half of Yan’s Satedan Band, with Caldwell in the middle of it trying to make sure they stayed bodily separated.
“Cool it off, people,” Caldwell was saying sharply, but no one seemed very inclined to listen to him.
“Damn it,” John said. “Come on, let’s go break it up.”
“I am sure they will be happy to listen to us,” Radek said dryly, but he trailed John as he shouldered his way through the crowd.
“You want a fight, you can — ”
“Back off, Satedan — ”
“You and your whole regiment — ”
“All right, settle down,” John said when he was close enough that he thought anyone might listen to him.
“Oh, they’ll settle down,” one of the Satedans said, a little too loudly. One of Yan’s Satedan Band, John’s brain supplied, the young officer Ronon had been talking to earlier. “They like to talk, but they don’t like to fight.”
“Everybody knows Satedans like to fight,” one of the young Genii officers said. “They just don’t like to win.”
Caldwell interposed himself as the Satedan took a step toward the man. “Let’s not do this.”
“Maybe you’d have gotten farther if you put men in the field instead of girls,” one of the other Genii put in.
“You mean like Sora Tyrus?” John said. “Or maybe Teyla.”
“I mean like these pretty little flowers,” the Genii officer said. John wished he was more certain exactly how he ought to translate that. Any way you looked at it, it seemed a little rich for a bunch of guys most of whom stood half a head taller than the Genii they were squaring off with.
“I don’t think anybody needs to be calling anybody else names,” John said.
“You wouldn’t last ten minutes in a fight,” the Satedan officer said over his shoulder.
“Says the man hiding behind the Lanteans.”
John was losing patience. “You two want to fight? You know what, fine, go beat the crap out of each other. And then it’s over, all right? No saying ‘somebody got a bruise and now it’s a diplomatic incident’.”
Caldwell gave him a look. “Sheppard — ”
“A fair fight, no weapons. Call it sparring.”
“More like giving lessons to children,” the Genii officer said, but there seemed to be muttered agreement on both sides.
“All right,” John said. He glanced across the square at Teyla. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to think this was a very good idea. “Let’s get out of this crowd. I don’t want this to turn into a general brawl.”
“You are a crazy person,” Radek said as they trailed the would-be combatants and their friends behind a row of buildings, following the light of the lamp one of them carried. “You know that, yes?”
“It’ll get it out of their systems.”
“Assuming they do not kill each other.”
“Let’s hope not,” John said. He made sure the lantern was set high enough that it was unlikely to be knocked over — setting what was left of the city on fire probably would cause a diplomatic incident — and said, “Let’s have some rules, here.”
The Satedan officer gave him a look that reminded him of Ronon. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want anybody put in the hospital.”
“First one knocked down,” Caldwell said. “The point’s not to see how much damage you can do, the point’s to see how well you can fight.”
“Whatever,” the Genii soldier said, glaring at the Satedan. “You probably won’t get up after the first time anyway.”
“Sure,” the Satedan said.
John repressed the urge to roll his eyes. “You people have names?”
“Petros Dar,” the Satedan said.
The Genii officer scowled at him. “Airth Gradon.”
“Eat dirt,” the Satedan said, and rushed him.
There was a clamor from the spectators, but they seemed willing to stay out of the fight, so John settled for shouldering people back if they looked like they were going to get in somebody’s way. Both Dar and Gradon were good, but John thought Dar was better. Gradon looked more thrown by not having a weapon, and Dar had the reach on him, although he wasn’t built like a brick wall the way Ronon was.