Chapter Nine
My Little Eye
If Zelenka’s day had been one of disturbing revelations, he was certainly not alone in that. Teyla Emmagan was faring no better.
Things had started to go sour for her almost as soon as the day had begun, with her return trip through the Stargate. Teyla was used to walking out of the gate and into Atlantis; falling uncontrollably out of the event horizon was a bad way to come home. She’d not had any time to prepare herself for the trip back from Malus Rei, that was the problem. There had been no time to ready herself for the strange, headlong sensations involved in being flung between worlds. Instead, she had entered the rippling surface of the event horizon in mid-leap, desperately trying to evade a hail of Malan crossbow bolts.
Although there was a degree of subjective time between entering one Stargate and leaving another — enough to remember the feeling of being hurled about, at least — in terms of objective time the journey was instantaneous. Teyla came out of the Atlantis Stargate in mid-air, the other half of the frantic jump she had made back on Malus Rei, but the Malan gate had been neglected so badly it was leaning askew on its foundations. The change in perspective was startling in other ways, too; Teyla started her leap at early evening, and ended in morning light, tumbling uncontrollably along the gate room floor.
Dust, gritty and pale, puffed out along with her, as did several crossbow bolts. Thankfully, due to the angle of the Malan gate these whickered harmlessly over her head and clattered into the ceiling of the gate room.
Teyla scrambled up, dropping into a fighting crouch with her gun raised, in case any Malans came out after her. But as she did so the gate closed, the mirrored surface of its event horizon scattering into quantum foam and spinning away to nothing.
Half a crossbow bolt tumbled out of the foam and skittered forlornly along the floor.
Teyla straightened up, and then turned to those who had gone before her. “Is everyone all right?”
The rest of the team — three medics, two engineers and a handful of armed marines — nodded, raising clouds of gray powder as they did so. Malus Rei was prey to dust storms, and it was during a particularly violent one that the inhabitants had turned on them. Just like Teyla, all of them were covered in the stuff, and most had bits of cloth tied around their faces to keep the worst of it out of their lungs.
“Very well,” she told them. “I will make my report to Colonel Carter. I suggest the rest of you take a shower and then get some rest. It has been a trying few hours.”
She watched them disperse, trailing dust and grumbles, then wandered away from the gate. She stooped to pick up a bolt, and as she got up she saw that Carter was trotting in to meet her. “Good morning, Colonel.”
“Teyla, it’s good to see you back in one piece. What happened?”
Teyla coughed, tasting dust. “I am afraid things did not go well, Colonel. The Malans did not appreciate our efforts. Or our presence.”
Carter was looking at the crossbow bolts littering the floor. “They attacked you?”
“Their offspring did… I have to admit, being chased out of town by crossbow-wielding children is not an experience I have any desire to repeat.”
“I’ll bet.” She glanced up at the operations balcony, and then stepped closer to Teyla. “Listen, we need to talk. Can you come up to my office?”
“Of course.” Teyla unwrapped the cloth from her own nose and mouth. “Right now?”
Carter smiled. “When you’ve gotten some color back.”
As planets go, Malus Rei — Carter’s people called it M2S-318 — was largely unremarkable. It was dry, and dusty, and prone to storms, but it had a sizeable population, scattered in tough little townships that huddled around natural wells. During the previous day, Teyla had led her team through the Malan gate on a goodwill mission: the plan had been to visit several of the larger settlements and provide the inhabitants with medical supplies, food, and other material aid. Nothing would be asked for in return, but obviously there were benefits for the Pegasus expedition in terms of information and a growing network of local allies. Such missions had proved invaluable in the city’s previous location, and the tactic had been adopted again, now that the new resting place of Atlantis seemed to be permanent.
The Malans, however, were simply not receptive to goodwill. Perhaps they had been culled once too often by the Wraith, or maybe the harshness of their dusty lives had made them naturally surly. Or perhaps, Teyla thought to herself, as she showered the powdery dust out of her hair, they were simply desperately unpleasant people. There were all kinds of humans in the galaxy, she knew. It would have been naïve to assume there were none who were, by their very nature, just plain bad.
She should have found the Malan attitude to children a warning, she decided. Any race who regard their own offspring as expendable has serious issues. Although, she had to admit, using the children as warriors had a certain twisted logic. After all, when one is being chased by hordes of filthy, dust-caked youngsters — even those armed with crossbows and jagged iron knives — it is hard to shoot back.
Well, from now on the Malans would be alone on their stormy little world, sending their children out into the choking dust to gather water and farm their tough, fibrous root crops. They had their way of life, and it would be folly to try and convince them it was wrong, even if it went against everything Teyla had been brought up to believe.
Besides, there were people in the galaxy who not only needed help but would welcome it. In future, she would direct her energies towards such folk, and let those who were just plain bad make their own way.
Carter was not alone in her office when Teyla arrived in the control room. She was talking to a young, dark-haired woman with glasses, and standing to one side of the office was a middle-aged man wearing what Teyla took to be Earth civilian clothing. She didn’t recognize either of them, and the emotions of the man were hard to read. But the woman seemed agitated, even afraid.
Teyla found an empty seat and watched them, curious as to what was going on and unwilling to simply walk into what looked like a difficult situation. From what she could see, the woman had a request for Carter, and it seemed that the Colonel wanted to acquiesce. But she kept looking over to the man, and each time she did there was a tiny, almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Somehow, this civilian seemed to be in charge of the situation.
It was a puzzle. Teyla did not know Colonel Carter well — the woman had only been in charge of the Pegasus expedition since the loss of Doctor Weir, not much more than three weeks earlier. Since that time she and Teyla had not interacted much, and the few conversations they had shared had been models of stiff professionalism. But from what she did know about Carter, Teyla couldn’t imagine her as someone who would give up authority easily. Whoever this man was, he must have been in a position of considerable power.
After a few minutes, the young woman appeared to realize she was getting nowhere. When she left Carter’s office, the man went with her. Neither of them were talking, but the woman was plainly upset.
Teyla watched them pass. As they did, she heard one of the techs near her curse under his breath.
She turned to him. “Is something wrong?”
The man — bearded, somewhat heavy-set — shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry.”
“Is there a fault with the Stargate?”
He was silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the control board in front of him. Then: “It’s not the Stargate. Look, perhaps I shouldn’t say, but…” He glanced briefly over to Carter’s office. “The girl who was just in there? She’s a friend of mine.”
“I see.” Teyla moved her seat closer to the man. Franklyn, she remembered. “She seems troubled.”
“Yeah, well… She’s been assigned to the Ancient’s tech team. Not like she’s been given any choice in the matter, either.”