Carter bounced back, regained her stance, and then darted in to pummel the bag with a series of vicious elbow and fist strikes, ending the sequence with a mud dhrong punch that would have broken a strong man’s jaw. The bag, suspended top and bottom with heavy bungee cords, rattled and bounced, swaying to a slow halt as Carter backed off.
She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, letting the bindings mop up some of the sweat, shook some more out of her hair. She hadn’t planned on working the bag for as long as she had, and the sustained assault she had unleashed on it was beginning to take its toll. There was a continuous ache across the back of her shoulders, now, and the dull muscle-memory of repeated impacts in her knuckles and shins. Maybe, she thought, this hadn’t been such a great idea.
Then again, ever since the IOA had called to deliver their decision she had needed to hit something. And doing so, over and over for almost an hour, had felt good.
It wasn’t a realization that she was especially proud of. In truth, she recognized it as a failing. She should have been prepared for what the Advisory was going to decide: knowing what she did about them and how they worked, she should have expected it. But the decision, when it came, surprised and distressed her far more than she had expected. She hadn’t been able to think of another way to get rid of the effects of that call other than to make her way down to the gym, set up a punch bag and beat the living daylights out of several imaginary members of the IOA.
There was no-one else in her section of the gym. From the next room, though, the sounds of heavy blows and occasional grunts of pain issued. Ronon Dex and John Sheppard were in there, sparring again. It seemed to be something they did frequently — Carter had only been on Atlantis for just over three weeks, and she had already noticed them in there several times.
They were talking as they fought, but she couldn’t quite hear what they were saying. Perhaps Carter wasn’t the only one getting rid of some aggression.
She left the punch bag to dangle, and walked across the gym to where her towel lay folded neatly on a bench. She picked it up and dried her face with it, and when she brought it down Angelus was standing in front of her.
It took an effort not to start. She’d not heard him at all, and she was sure she’d only had the towel over her face for a second or two. Either he could move very fast, or very quietly, or both. In any case, it was something she would have to watch for in the future.
“Angelus,” she said, as calmly as she could. “What are you doing here?”
“I was told I could find you here,” he replied. Then he tilted his head, very slightly, gesturing over his shoulder. “Pleased don’t be alarmed. I have my chaperones.”
Carter glanced behind him, and saw DeSalle and Kaplan by the door. “I see. Well, it’s good that you’re up and about. You must be feeling better.”
He was looking at the punch bag. “What are you doing?”
“Exercising.”
“By attacking this… Object?”
She nodded, feeling oddly embarrassed. “It’s called Muay Thai. The fighting style, not the bag… It’s a martial art from my world.”
“Art…” he repeated softly. He walked partway around the punch bag, watching it, as though waiting for it to impart some deep insight.
“In the room next to this one,” he said after a few seconds, “I noticed Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard and a tall man with very distinctive hair. They were fighting too.”
“That was Ronon Dex.” Carter made a slight, fluttering mime around her head. “With the hair. They’re sparring, sort of pretend-fighting. Keeps them in practice.”
“They seemed to be taking it very seriously. Are you sure it wasn’t some kind of dominance ritual?”
Carter smiled. “No, I think they just like hitting each other.”
He didn’t answer. Next to him, with his stillness and calm grace and the smooth, liquid tones of his voice, she started to feel awkward. “Look, Angelus. This isn’t something I normally do.”
“It isn’t?”
“No. I mean, you probably think it’s pretty…” She grimaced slightly, unsure of how to go on, but his expression urged her to continue. “Pretty childish,” she said finally.
He looked at her oddly for a moment, then a slow smile spread across his pale features. “Ah, Colonel Carter. Do you think me too enlightened to see the value of this? You think my people were any better?”
She shrugged wordlessly.
Angelus shook his head. “No. Oh, to hear us talk, you would think us beyond the need for such pursuits. Noble, we were, and full of high ideals… We knew all the answers, Colonel, and we shouted them like anthems, to anyone who would listen. But still.” He lifted his hands strangely, his long fingers crooked. “We are gone, and yet you remain.”
There was the sound of a heavy impact from the next room, and a series of muffled curses. Somebody had hit the mat, hard, and Carter didn’t think it was Dex. “Maybe not for much longer,” she said grimly.
Angelus lowered his hands. “What do you mean?”
She sighed deeply. “You know I take my orders from a group on Earth, right?”
“I thought you had autonomy here.”
“On some matters, yes. But not wholly. And not when it concerns you.” She began walking back towards the punch bag, and then realized that she still had the towel in her hand. She balled it up and slung it back towards the bench. “I presented them with my report last night. All my concerns, Apollo’s sensor logs from Eraavis, everything.”
“Your concerns?”
She rounded on him. “Angelus, I’m sorry. But it’s my opinion that you represent a clear and present danger to Atlantis. The Replicators obviously consider you public enemy number one, and they’ve already shown they will stop at nothing to destroy you — not genocide, not suicide, nothing. Right now they don’t know where you are, but if they find out they will destroy Atlantis and everyone in it to get to you.”
“That’s a logical assumption. But your superiors do not share your concerns?”
“Oh, my superiors?” She spat the word. “They consider you an acceptable risk. I’ve been ordered to give you full access to any facilities you need here. They’re even going to send an observer to make sure I do.”
There was a long silence. Then Angelus said: “I don’t understand.”
“Sure you do.” That was Sheppard. Carter looked around to see him standing by the door. He had a towel draped over his left shoulder and a long bruise purpling the side of his face. He looked sour.
“You know damn well what’s she’s talking about, Angelus,” he went on. “And don’t try to tell us it’s not what you wanted.”
“Not against your wishes,” Angelus replied. “And believe me, Colonel Carter, I share your concerns. I watched the Replicators destroy everything I loved, and I will share the blame for that until the day I die. But trust me, I have no intention of hastening that day.”
“Trust you?” she began, but he moved towards her, very quickly and very silently. Before she could step back, he had her hands in his.
They were cool, like before, and gentle against her skin. “Trust me in this, Colonel Samantha Carter. Whether I am here or not, one day they will come for you. They hate you too much not to do so. But if you let me complete my work, you need not fear them. Not them, nor the Wraith, nor any threat that might arise against you or your homeworld. I promise you this.
“Let me finish my weapon, and I will rid you of the Asurans forever.”
Carter knew that McKay would react badly to the news, but she had misjudged just how fast that news would travel. It must have reached him in less time than it took for her to shower and track him down to the mess hall — when she found him there, she only had to look at him to realize he already knew the IOA’s decision.