“And the revenge?” Sora asked.
“You survive.”
Sora gave a bark of laughter that turned into a harsh cough. “And the Lanteans get what they wanted all along.”
“It is past the point where you can influence that,” Teyla said. That was what her father had called a trader’s truth, not entirely a lie, but without much acquaintance with honesty. She had a flash of memory, flowers tumbling as a red-haired tomboy swung upside down from a tree branch, Tyrus scolding her down, too old to play like that — She put the thought firmly aside. “That is for Colonel Sheppard and Ushan Cai and Chief Ladon to work out among them. But you can live and know you are a thorn to his foot.”
“Why not?” Sora said. She looked old again, drained. “Why the hell not?”
“Why not, indeed?” Teyla looked at her. “Can you walk?”
Sora nodded, and Kneeland offered a hand to pull her to her feet. She came up wincing, and Teyla gave her a wary look. It would do them no good to bring her back unconscious, she should walk into camp on her own two feet — And then Sora straightened, nodding. Kneeland kept one hand on her elbow, steadying her, as they started back to the gate square.
At least they’d gotten through the rest of the evening without another incident, though John was aware that the Satedan Band and some of the Genii were still muttering insults when they thought none of the authorities were listening. He hoped that meant they’d got the worst of it out of their system, and that there would be no further need for anybody to prove their manhood. He’d seen Yan talking to Dar, and thought he could rely on Yan to keep the peace. But, of course, they’d won. It was the Genii he probably needed to worry about.
At some point, the Satedans had cleared the long tables, except for a small tapped keg and a scattering of cups. He wished briefly he could believe it held beer, but it was too small to be anything but the harsh Satedan moonshine. He’d nursed a cup of it for about an hour before he’d been able to set it discreetly aside, but everyone else seemed to have been knocking it back pretty steadily. He kind of hoped they did all have hangovers in the morning…
“Colonel Sheppard.”
John closed his eyes for a second, then stitched a smile on his face and turned to meet Radim. “Chief Ladon?”
He’d seen Radim drinking along with the others, matching his officers toast for toast, but it didn’t seem to have affected him. “This sparring match — ”
“Was very impressive,” John said. “Your guy, Gradon, he throws a nice punch. I wouldn’t bet against him — but of course there won’t be a rematch.”
An unwilling smile flickered across Radim’s face, and was instantly suppressed. “I’d hoped we could ensure that, yes.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” John began, and something moved at the edge of the light. He saw a Marine swivel toward it, P90 not quite raised, and a sober Genii reached reflexively for his sidearm, stopped himself at the last moment.
“Colonel Sheppard! And Chief Ladon! How fortunate you are here.” That was Teyla’s voice, and she came fully into the light, Corporal Kneeland behind her, supporting a battered-looking Sora. John caught his breath, hoping there hadn’t been another fight, and Teyla kept talking, her voice raised just enough to carry, riding over any comment. “There has been an accident, a collapse of wreckage, but luckily Sora is unharmed.”
“Lucky, indeed,” Radim said. He sounded sour, and John gave him a glance. The Genii’s face was impassive, and John wondered if he’d heard correctly after all. “And very fortunate that you were there to help.”
“Yes,” Sora said, with odd emphasis. “It was very fortunate indeed.”
She looked like hell, John thought, blood on the front of her jacket, her vivid hair dulled with dust. She glared at Radim as though she blamed him, and abruptly the pieces clicked into place for John. Radim hinting at Woolsey’s murder, his willingness to ignore Sora’s near-insubordination, everything he’d done to get power… He opened his mouth to say something, and Teyla gave him a minatory look.
“I believe she is unharmed,” Teyla said, “but I would like our medic to take a look at her. So that there can be no misunderstandings.”
“We have a physician here ourselves,” Radim said.
“We insist,” John said. “Like Teyla said. No misunderstandings.”
Radim shrugged. “If Sora wishes, I have no objection.”
“I’m well enough,” Sora said. Teyla’s eyes narrowed, and the younger woman sighed. “But, yes, I suppose it would be wise.”
Radim lifted his hand, and the blond aide hurried to his side. “Ambrus, if you’d go with Sora and — ”
“Corporal Kneeland,” Teyla said. She made no move to go with them, and Radim bowed.
“Then I think I should retire.”
“I’d like a word before you go,” John said. Radim paused, tipping his head in question, but John waited until he was sure the others were out of earshot. “I know what you did, or what you tried to do, there. Not a smart move.”
Radim blinked once. “Frankly, I would have thought it would be to your advantage.”
“It looks bad,” John said. “Trying to get rid of the officer who was running this operation before she got caught? It makes it look like you have something big to hide. But. We want this deal to happen. You need a deal, the Satedans need a deal. Make it happen, and we don’t have to go into what you might have been planning that you needed to cover up this way.”
There was a little silence, and John hoped he hadn’t completely screwed up whatever Teyla had been planning. Then, abruptly, Radim laughed. He looked momentarily younger, and genuinely amused. “That’s not exactly easy to arrange, Colonel.”
“I think you can handle it,” John said.
“I — you’ll accept an agreement to trade for what we need?”
“If the Satedans will,” John said. “But I think that would work out.”
“Then I expect we can reach an agreement,” Radim said. “Good night, then.”
“Good night,” John said, and Teyla echoed him politely. He looked sideways at her, and saw that she was smiling.
“Your diplomatic technique is improving, John.”
Chapter Twenty
ZPM
It was quiet in the lab, clevermen moving in careful choreography as they drew a newly formed cable from the wall. It was designed to mesh with the framework that held the ZPM, and Quicksilver adjusted the socket, eyeing the connector warily. The last three had failed catastrophically, and he was more than a bit tired of being splashed with molten cable… Salt tugged it forward, letting it wind around his off hand, so that he could examine the cable’s mouth Quicksilver leaned closer himself. It wasn’t his specialty, but he couldn’t help wanting to see what things had changed. It looked like an adapted sucker, a leech-mouth lined in tiny sparks like diodes, and at his side Ember gave a shrug.
*We won’t know until we try.*
Salt showed teeth in answer, and unwound the cable from his wrist. He led it into the frame, and it reached out hungrily, fastened and clung. Lights pulsed, data cascading down the monitor, and Salt lifted his head eagerly. And then there was a snap, and the cable shriveled back, trailing smoke. Salt caught it and another cleverman quickly smothered the flames.
*How hard can this be?* Quicksilver exclaimed. *How many times do you intend to try this?*
*Until it works,* Ember snapped, and Salt snarled in agreement.
*Which will be when?*
*When it is done,* Salt said, and Ember lifted his hand.
*As you saw, we are nearly there.* He had himself under tight control. *The next iteration should resolve the last compatibility issues.*