Not good.
Despite the obvious tension, the hominess of the gathering around the fireside triggered a sharp pang of regret in Elizabeth. This had been her home and her family for the past three years, and in many ways she'd come to know these people better than many in her own timeline, perhaps because, in spite of the dangers and difficulties the Atlantis expedition posed from day to day, life had been harder here. They'd had to fight for each basic amenity, and it had welded them together as a group.
And perhaps this simpering bout of nostalgia was caused by a combination of cold feet and the remnants of the drug in her system. In her system and all around her; the plant's thick vines were trailing down from branches and snaking through the undergrowth. Out of sheer habit she checked for mature blossoms. What she saw froze her in her tracks; buds, blossoms, tendrils-everything was encased in ice and shimmering like pink and red jewels. Utterly beautiful and utterly useless. Even if the plants survived and even if this unannounced winter stopped eventually, it would be months until the next crop was available. Which more than likely explained the late powwow around the fire by the gate. If she had noticed, they would have, too, and the community would be angry at the very least, panicked into an irrational frenzy at the worst.
This wasn't good at all. If she and John were going to steal back the jumper, it would be safer to wait until things had simmered down a little. To get caught now…
"John, I think we-"
"Shh!" He grabbed her arm and yanked her into a crouch behind some bushes.
It would have been too late anyway. Star had reached the village and several people spotted him simultaneously. They jumped up and toward him, and now their agitation was more than obvious.
"Must be nice to be missed," John whispered.
"That's not it," she hissed back. "I think they've discovered that they'll be going cold turkey once their current store of blossoms is used up."
His gaze traveled in the direction she was pointing. When he clocked the frozen flowers he swore under his breath. "They'll be pissed."
"To say the least."
"What about Star? He's as dependent on the stuff as any of them. Is he going to go through with it?"
She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, John. Given this development, all bets are off. You have no idea what it's like."
"That's where you're wrong, but I'll save the war stories for another day."
Star hadn't stopped for his welcoming committee. He strode through them and made straight for the campfire, which could mean any number of things. Oblivious to the cold that was again seeping under her skin and into her bones, and wishing she could make out what was being said, Elizabeth watched as Radek Zelenka rose in response to whatever piece of information his renegade disciple had flung at him. Then Star spun around and pointed back down the trail. To her it felt as if he were pointing straight at them.
"He flipped." John swore under his breath. "Let's-"
"They're all dead! I saw them! He's been lying to us all along!" roared Star, and that was audible enough. He whirled back at Zelenka to loose a straight right that caught the erstwhile scientist squarely in the jaw.
Yells of shock and outrage went up among the bystanders, and Zelenka reeled back, clutching his face. When he let go, he spat out a mouthful of blood that blossomed in the snow like one of the flowers. Star launched at him again, slipped and pitched into a headlong fall.
"My God, what is he doing?"
"I think he just got us Zelenka's DNA. The hard way." For the first time in days there was something like amusement in John's voice. "I bet you anything that Radek lost at least one tooth."
Over by the fire, Star pushed himself to his knees, his fist closing around that bloody flower in the snow.
"I know what he's up to," John whispered urgently. "In addition to giving us one hell of a diversion. We've got to get to the jumper. Now!"
He hauled Elizabeth to her feet and prodded her on, along the trail for twenty meters or so. Then he veered sideways into the undergrowth, pushing through bushes and ferns and stumbling over roots to make a beeline for the jumper. He pulled out the remote as he ran, activated it, and Elizabeth fully expected to hear an outcry go up as the hatch slid open. The outcry came, but with a split-second's delay she realized that nobody was paying any attention to them or the jumper. Everybody's attention was riveted on the fight breaking out by the fire.
One hell of a diversion.
Pale with rage, Zelenka flew at his attacker who was still down. Star dodged the onslaught, rolled to his feet, hands kneading the fistful of snow he'd grabbed. He let out an inarticulate shout and hurled that rosy snowball as if to release at least some of his anger before swatting aside Zelenka who'd charged again.
With a — dull thud, the snowball struck the jumper and slid down the side of the hull. John shot from cover and dived for it, scraped up every speck of pink snow he could see and a whole armful more besides, shoved it all at Elizabeth.
"Don't lose any of it and get in the jumper!"
"What are you-"
"Get in the jumper!"
Finally one of the ringside crowd noticed what else was happening. "Over there! Look!" It was a woman's voice, not that it mattered.
People swung around, dumbstruck, but their surprise wouldn't last. Elizabeth ducked up the ramp and stayed just inside the hatch to see what was going on. Over by the fire things were getting uglier by the second. Shouts of "Traitor!" went up, a chorus led by Radek Zelenka. People had recovered from their initial shock and the mood was turning against Star with a vengeance. The woman who'd shouted was pulling Zelenka out of harm's way, while three of the men, then four launched themselves at Star. The rest came stumbling through the snow and toward the jumper.
The report of a gunshot rent the air and stopped them in their tracks. Even the foursome that had set upon Star ceased their attempts to beat him into a pulp, and for a moment an eerie silence settled over the village.
It was shattered by John's voice. "Don't make me fire again. The next time I will shoot somebody, I promise."
Nobody was stupid enough to doubt him. Nobody moved a muscle.
Then Star, on all fours, blood trickling from a split lip and eyebrow, hollered, "Go! Get out of here!"
"Not without you! Get your ass into the jumper!"
A smile contorted the Star's bruised face. "But I can't. You know I can't. Once you manage to fix this it won't matter anyway, right?"
"Star-"
Zelenka seemed to have woken up to what was happening. "Stop them!" he screamed. "Don't let them leave!"
It galvanized the whole group into action. Those who'd stood staring so far, broke into a sprint, heading straight for the jumper.
"Go!" Star yelled again and was buried under a pile of attackers.
John Sheppard hovered for a moment, indecisive, then he must have realized the odds; he turned around and in a shambling run scrambled for the ramp. "Dial the gate!" he yelled at Elizabeth. "Doesn't matter where!"
Not bothering to acknowledge, she dumped that freely dripping armful of snow into a storage box, raced into the cock pit and dialed-Atlantis. With any kind of luck they would be going home. John came stumbling up the ramp, slapped the door switch, and joined her in the cockpit. The jumper's engines came online before he'd even thrown himself into the pilot's seat, responding to his thoughts. From outside, muted by inches of metal, came furious shouts and the clangor of fists and sticks pounding the hull. She knew that nothing the men outside could do would leave so much as a dent, but it was unsettling all the same, and she shuddered with relief when she felt the jumper leave the ground.