"You exaggerate, Kellec." Merise shook her head, but tolerated the remark. "My father was one of the city's finest craftsmen," she explained. "From an early age he schooled me in both the art of creating the whip and the skill of controlling it."
The bread made its way to Ronon. He found it sweet and surprisingly delicate. "Much effort is devoted to the creation of a whip, is it not?" Teyla asked.
Unhooking her whip from her belt, Merise moved to show the visitors its attributes. "The most difficult aspect is the fall." She indicated the long, flexible part. "A thin strand of adarite runs from the top of the handle down the length of the fall. It must be a continuous strand of a certain width, or the weapon will not discharge sufficient power. Adarite can be worked with heat, but it is fragile. It takes years of apprenticeship to fashion a quality whip. Few who take up the trade have the focus to master it."
Teyla examined the whip's construction, skimming her fingers along the braided fall. "Would you teach me some of your handling skills?" she requested. "It would occupy our time, and I am curious to learn."
Men' se looked to Kellec for permission. The chief warnor responded by handing his own whip to Teyla. Once she had secured her dark hair away from her face, Merise dropped into a familiar combat stance: one foot slightly behind the other, toes turned out. The whip hung loosely at her side. Teyla copied the position.
"Guess you have to be careful not to accidentally turn the thing on," Ronon said.
A rueful smile curled the corner of Kellec's mouth. "A key reason why only the finest of our soldiers are selected for the warrior order."
The two women went through a series of basic motions, which Teyla picked up quickly. In the forward jabs, sideways sweeps, and spins, there were notable similarities to her usual fighting style, although the whip had a much longer reach than her staffs. It appeared almost like a dance: fluid, yet with a percussive force provided by the occasional snap of the weapon. Ronon was impressed by Merise's control. Despite the length and pliancy of the whip, she was able to put her strikes exactly where she wanted them, near or far. He found it difficult to predict her moves.
At the warrior's silent invitation, Ronon took her whip-careful to avoid the power band on the handle-and tried to mimic Teyla's movements. His fighting skills ran toward guns or hand-to-hand, so he wasn't nearly as coordinated at first, and he found that he had to work harder than he'd expected just to maintain the pace and keep the whip from touching anything it shouldn't. Still, he could see how such a weapon could have its advantages, even if the spinning moves made him a little unsteady.
After a few minutes, Teyla returned Kellec's whip to him. "Thank you," she told him, brushing damp hair back from her forehead. "It is a demanding style."
She looked tired, more so than Ronon would have expected for such a short period of activity. As he handed Merise her whip, something in the distance caught the attention of the group.
Arider approached, sitting astride one of the beasts that Sheppard had dubbed `Energizer Bunnies on steroids.' A scarlet and gold banner, presumably a flag of conference, billowed out behind him. The messenger, Ronon identified. That hadn't taken as long as he'd feared.
As the rider drew nearer, he slowed the animal to a walking pace and then dismounted, keeping hold of the reins. "Day's greetings, Chief Warrior," he called.
"Day's greetings," replied Kellec. "Have you the Nistra's answer?"
"I have, sir. Minister Galven accepts the governor's invitation. He will come to the Hall at the appointed time with only his personal guards. However, he cautions that if he does not find the guards provided by the mediator to be satisfactory, his acceptance is forfeit."
"That won't be a problem," Ronon said.
Kellec smiled. "I am gratified. Please go and tell your people that the talks are set. We will take the good news to the governor."
Something more than anticipation lingered in the man's eyes, though. Ronon glanced at Merise and found the same expression. Caution, maybe, or suspicion. From the looks of it, no one was all that confident about the prospects for a positive outcome from these talks. He found himself hoping that if these two groups really were primed to do battle, they would at least let him and his team get out of the way first.
"At last," Rodney said theatrically, plunking himself down on a nearby chair. "For a while I thought we were going to have to wait until the Daedalus came by again to get our damn mail."
"Relax, Rodney. I'm sure your bulk order of Twinkies is safe." John grinned at the immediate spluttering his comment produced.
"I do not hoard Twinkies. It was only that first supply run, because it had been so long since we'd had anything resembling actual food. And would you keep your voice down? The last thing I need is Marines with stealth skills and scientists with rewiring skills trying to break into my quarters in search of a junk-food stockpile."
The mess hall was one of the largest spaces in the occupied section of Atlantis, and it was rapidly filling with people, all eager for a taste of home in whatever form it might take. For John, who'd pretty much been military from birth, home tended to be wherever he was currently assigned, but he could admit to some interest in the latest movies and sports DVDs Stargate Command graciously provided with each supply run. And Frosted Flakes. God, he hated it when the mess ran out of Frosted Flakes.
They still had a few minutes until the official start of mail call, so he perched on the edge of Rodney's table. "How are you guys coming along on your analysis of the adarite?"
Next to Rodney, Radek Zelenka shrugged. "We have a good sense of its molecular structure. Similar to naquadah, as Rodney theorized-"
"More precisely, similar to naquadria." Rodney ran over his research partner's explanation without hesitating, oblivious to Radek's exasperated gaze. "In the sense that it's highly energetic and only stable in certain forms. It makes one wonder if the ore formed naturally on the planet or if it was a byproduct of the Ancients' charming pastime of terraforming."
Yeah, John had felt charmed by their all-too-recent terraforming adventure, all right. He figured he should probably take note of that comment about stability, but Rodney and Radek were on the job, so he wasn't overly concerned.
"However, the crystalline structure is brittle," Radek continued. "Manipulating it will not be as simple as standard metalworking. And we do not yet have a method for directing the discharged energy once it leaves the ore, which will be necessary before we can develop any sort of distance weapon."
"You'll make it work," John said, realizing a half-second too late that his tone had sounded more like a command than an expression of faith.
Rodney tossed him a long-suffering scowl. "If for no other reason than it would be vexing to break my streak of day-saving, yes, of course I'll make it work. But I'll need some time."
"How much time do you think we have, Rodney?" John retorted. "How long do you think it'll take the Asurans to build another cityship and point it toward us?"
Now Rodney was looking at him strangely. "You want to dial back the paranoia for a minute? That's supposed to be my role. As soon as I get into the facility on 418, things will go faster."
As tough as it was to admit, Rodney was right. John needed to step back and let them do their jobs. A little embarrassed, he pushed himself up from the table. "Well, good luck with it. Anyway, I think it's time to get this show on the road."
He headed for the front of the room, where Elizabeth was standing next to two large pallets stacked with boxes and four containers of envelopes. Her eyes twinkled. "Colonel, would you like to do the honors?"