She held the older man's gaze securely. "They are good people who will follow if they are led. Lead them."
For some time, Galven stared back at her, and the silence scraped away at her resolve.
At last, he swiveled to address one of his guards. "Bring the flag of conference."
Teyla thanked whatever Ancestors might be listening and waited to see what message would be sent to the Falnori. To her surprise, the minister did not assign a representative to carry a proposal to the other side. Instead, he took the flag from his assistant, apparently intending to make the journey himself.
"Are you certain…" she began, only to trail off upon seeing the set of his features.
"You asked me to lead, warrior Emmagan," he said simply.
That moment, more than any before it, showed her that he was indeed deserving of his post.
"Then you will need bodyguards. One with no need of a whip will be helpful." She turned to Dantir. "Stay here," she instructed him, leaving no room for argument. If Ronon had been killed, as she feared, she would not let his last effort fail now.
With a purposeful stride, Galven started forward, and Teyla prepared to follow him into the heart of the battle.
Chapter seventeen
When Cestan walked out of the command post, heading for the hill, and ordered that the prisoners be brought along, Ronon once again had no idea whether or not he was about to die. The odds of him being publicly killed as an example had been waxing and waning for some time. He considered the factors involved in making an escape attempt. Could he tear the whip that bound him out of Kellec's hands before the warrior could turn it on? Was the likelihood of his execution great enough to be worth the risk of losing his hands?
Then Weir fell into step beside Cestan, and Ronon banished any thoughts of trying to escape. He would not risk her safety or that of the military team in order to save himself. In any case, the situation was too tenuous to be disturbed further. He would have to take his chances and stay alert for any change.
"I grant that your allegations may be true, Dr. Weir," said the governor, focused not on her but on the Stargate ahead. "Before I address them, however, there is a matter left undone. I cannot ask my people to believe a group of off-worlders if I allow one to go free after taking up arms against us. Treasonous acts have been committed, and punishment must be delivered."
Ronon had lived under a death sentence for seven years, and so-though it took effort-he didn't flinch at this one. To her credit, neither did Weir. Instead, she immediately took three long steps to outpace Cestan and planted herself in his path.
"That's not acceptable to me, Governor," she said firmly. "At the very least, I request that you delay the execution until after a lasting ceasefire is struck. We can discuss the level of punishment at that time. I'm confident that our assistance here will be significant enough to partially mitigate Ronon's offense."
"I fa lasting ceasefire is struck," Cestan corrected. "I do not share your certainty that Minister Galven will see reason. And I will agree to let you present your case and the raider to him only if you allow my warriors to deliver this one's punishment." A dark gaze, tinted by disdain rather than fury, fixed on Ronon even as he continued to speak to Weir. "He made his choice. If you sincerely want to broker peace on this world, you will stand aside."
Weir stepped away from Cestan to stand in front of Ronon. Although her composure never wavered, her eyes betrayed her conflict. He didn't envy her the terrible quandary she faced. Lives were being lost now, in this moment, and her only chance at bringing it all to a halt was to sacrifice his. Countless unknowns on one side, weighed against one friend on the other.
He knew what the right decision was, and he suspected she did as well. It obviously tore at her soul to contemplate such a thing, so if he could do anything to make it easier for her, he was willing.
"He's right," he said quietly. "I made my choice."
"Ronon," Weir murmured, looking utterly lost. "I can't…"
Barely noticing that she hadn't finished the sentence, Ronon spotted a flash of color from the corner of his eye, making its way across the battlefield on the Nistra side. He struggled for a second to identify it. When he succeeded, a swell of relief overtook him. This was a true, honest opportunity- for all of them.
"You can," he reassured her. "Just for a while."
"For a while? How does that-"
"Ma'am, Governor," Lorne interrupted, apparently every bit as observant as Ronon and looking in the same direction. "Look down there."
As everyone turned to survey the battlefield below, Ronon watched Cestan. The Falnori leader's expression shifted from suspicion to shock and back. "A flag of conference," he said, half to himself.
Lorne drew a small set of field glasses from his vest and peered down at the combatants parting to make way for the banner. The fighting hadn't ceased, but it had slowed. "It's Minister Galven," he stated. "And he's not alone." The Major handed the viewing device to Weir. As soon as she lifted it, the worry fell away from her face.
"It could be a ploy," Kellec pointed out.
"It isn't," declared Weir.
Cestan narrowed his eyes. "How can you be sure?"
She turned to him with a smile born of confidence and poise. "Because I would trust my life to the woman walking beside him."
Her response told Ronon everything he needed to know. Thank you, Teyla.
"Ma'am, you could call her," suggested Lorne, tapping his radio.
That hadn't occurred to Ronon, and it didn't seem to have occurred to Weir, either. She hurried to detach her own radio from her jacket. "Teyla, can you hear me?"
A snap of static quickly yielded to a familiar voice. "I am here, Elizabeth. I have provided some further information to Minister Galven. He is willing to discuss the possibility of a truce. Will Governor Cestan consider a proposal?"
"They should offer surrender, not truce," scoffed Kellec.
The governor waved him silent. "Can you guarantee that the flag of conference will be respected?" he asked Weir.
"I can't," she admitted. "I can, however, offer you the protection of these men." She nodded at the Marines. "Galven took a substantial risk to approach you himself in this manner. I'd consider that a gesture of goodwill."
It seemed obvious that Cestan was less than completely convinced. But certainty wasn't required right now-just an open mind.
"Bring our flag," he ordered a nearby warrior. As the woman hurried off to comply, he turned to Weir. "If the Nistra have plotted to deceive, your man Ronon will not be the only one to suffer punishment."
Weir accepted those terms more readily than Ronon would have; he didn't trust that some overeager Nistra wouldn't take unilateral action. Yet she merely lifted her radio. "We're coming, Teyla. Tell Minister Galven that we especially look forward to introducing him to Sekal, the leader of the Cadre."
After a pause, the response arrived. "I believe that would be very beneficial to all."
"We're on our way."
The flag was obtained and raised on its staff, and at Weir's urging the two Marines not directly guarding Sekal moved to flank Cestan. Kellec tugged Ronon for ward with his whip.
The Falnori stationed on the hilltop gaped at the unexpected procession, but they quickly moved aside in deference to their leader. As the flag moved down the slope toward the battlefield, Ronon scanned the masses of soldiers until he could identify Teyla near the Nistra flag. His eyesight was strong, and he could see her face brighten when she located him in return. He tried to look reassuring, even if he couldn't offer much comfort. Good news: he was still alive, a fact which she'd been given good reason to doubt. Bad news: he was still a prisoner.