No, what he hated was the IOA. With Woolsey gone about ninety percent of his inbox was IOA stuff, reports and questions and a million nit-picky stupid things which either didn’t make any difference or were for reasons that anybody with half a brain could have seen. “Why do you transmit on Tuesdays?” Why not? Tuesday was a perfectly good day to transmit. “Why do you maintain encryption on internal messages?” Because our computer systems have been compromised so many times they look like Swiss cheese, and anything that will slow people down for ten minutes buys us ten minutes.
Overnight there had been another email upload, thirty-seven messages this time, all of them work related. There really wasn’t anyone on Earth who sent him personal email messages. And there was one from Woolsey with fat attachments. John opened that one first.
He read it three times, then took a gulp of his coffee and considered. The Indian research vessel, the Asoka, was launching earlier than expected. OK, that wasn’t actually a surprise. It was a usual Air Force thing to allow more time than you actually needed in case problems came up, and he doubted the Indian Air Force did things differently. If they were anticipating a summer maiden voyage, they must be having smooth trials now, so they were going ahead and sending out research and maintenance personnel. Made sense. That way when the Asoka arrived they could look her over after her shakedown cruise. But that was a pretty big contingent. Other than the US contingent, that was the single largest other nationality represented. If the Asoka’s crew was anything like the size of the Hammond’s, that meant when they were in port the Indians would be about a quarter of the total population of Atlantis. That would change things. And the Asoka wouldn’t be going back and forth like Daedalus and Hammond, nor primarily Milky Way based like the Russian battlecruiser. It would be based in Atlantis and its mission was to explore the Pegasus galaxy. This was going to be really different.
But it was probably a good thing. The more non-US nations that had a stake in Pegasus, the less likely that a political retrenching would close Atlantis down. No, they were here to stay, and the Asoka was one part of that. His job was to make it work. So he’d better start talking to whoever the IAF liaison was. It was going to be a brave new world.
Lorne collected his tray in the mess hall and settled down at a table. There was a shipment of trade goods to Sateda scheduled for that morning, but for once he actually had time to sit down and eat breakfast. He had his first bite of scrambled eggs halfway to his mouth when his radio crackled to life.
“Perfect timing,” he muttered, and then said more loudly, “Lorne here.”
“Sir, we’ve been working on getting the equipment set up at the alpha site,” Sgt. Anthony said. “But we’ve run into a few problems.”
“And those problems would be?” Lorne prompted, watching the eggs on his plate congeal.
“It’s the equipment we were issued,” Anthony said. “It’s junk. The first tent we put up is already falling apart, and one of the ones we just put up ripped as soon as the wind picked up. And two of the water containers that we brought through are leaking.”
“So come back and get new ones,” Lorne said as patiently as he could.
“Affirmative, sir, I’ve sent Harper back with the jumper to do that. She could use some flight time in the jumper anyway. But this stuff is out of the shipment that just came out on Daedalus. Maybe we just happened to pull some bad equipment, but… ”
“But if they sent us defective equipment, we need to know that now,” Lorne finished. “I appreciate the heads-up.”
“Harper’s bringing back the gear that fell apart.”
“Great,” Lorne said, his mind on his rapidly cooling breakfast. “When she gets back with replacements, get that alpha site set up. We may not need it, but if we need it we’re going to need it fast. And we can’t park people on a desert planet without water.”
“Copy that,” Anthony said, and cut the transmission.
Lorne started to go back to his interrupted meal, now complete with an extra helping of nagging worry. He looked up as Radek Zelenka put his tray down. Zelenka was the acting head of the science department — everyone had been a little nervous about handing that responsibility directly back to Dr. McKay, despite all the doctors’ assurances that he was fully recovered from having been a Wraith. He ought to know if the scientists were having any similar issues.
“Hey, doc. Have any of the scientists been having any problems with the equipment that came out on Daedalus?”
“You mean the most recent shipment?” The Czech scientist frowned. “Not that I have heard. Dr. Elkins in botany complains that the broad-spectrum lights aren’t adequate to their needs, but he has made that complaint about every shipment of them we have received. And Dr. Kusinagi reported her new mass spectrometer was damaged in shipment. She expressed herself in fairly strong terms about it.”
“Do you think it was defective in some way?”
“No, I think that somebody dropped it. The SGC personnel are not always as careful as they should be with scientific equipment.” Radek looked at him over the rim of his glasses. “Why do you ask?”
“One of my teams had some of their gear fall apart. Probably they just had the bad luck to grab the wrong tent and the wrong water containers, but… ” But those were two separate items, probably packed in entirely separate shipping containers for the trip from Earth, both of which had turned out to be defective. “But you never know around here,” Lorne said, scooping up his scrambled eggs in a piece of toast. “I’m going to go take a look.”
“There is the trade mission to Sateda scheduled for this morning.”
“I’ve got time if I eat breakfast and put the fear of God into the supply officer at the same time. I’m in the Air Force, we can multitask.”
“I will ask around as well,” Radek said. “But I have found that the scientists rarely hesitate to complain. Especially when they know it is me and not Rodney who they will be complaining to.” He shook his head. “If they do not put Rodney back in charge soon, I may have to ask him for lessons in appearing less sympathetic.”
“He could probably give you some pointers,” Lorne said, and headed off, improvised sandwich in hand.
Teyla nodded to the Marine on duty outside the door of Ember’s guest quarters and then opened the door. *Ember?* she called silently. *Are you there?*
He was, of course. It was courtesy to ask, as she’d already felt his presence. Ember was sitting before the floor to ceiling window looking out across the city, the only light the bright reflections of the lights of other towers and the distant stars, more than enough light for a Wraith to see by easily. His dark coat blended with the black leather of the bench he sat on, though he rose to his feet immediately. A white ball fell out of his lap and picked itself up indignantly, washing one paw with a superior expression on its little gray face.
*The animal was friendly,* Ember said sheepishly. *I do not know where it came from. It simply was here.*
*That is Newton,* Teyla said, shaking her head as the cat looked up at her. *It is Dr. McKay’s cat. No matter where he tries to keep it, it gets out and roams where it wishes. I will tell him where it is.*
*I did not harm it,* Ember said.
*So I see.* The nearly year old cat was winding its way around Ember’s ankles, purring loudly.
Teyla walked over to the window. It was indeed an awe-inspiring view. *You know that you do not have to stay in this room. You are a guest, not a prisoner.*
Ember’s reply was the mental picture of the Marine at the door.
*That is an escort, not a guard. You are more than welcome to join the rest of us this evening.*