Weir nodded. "I agree. Colonel Sheppard is right that there's a risk, but Carson is correct. The commoners are not Daus and his barons. If we can help them, we must."
John frowned again. "Fine, but I want to take a little extra insurance with me. A Puddle Jumper."
"I though we wanted these people to underestimate us," said Beckett. "Won't an invisible Ancient spaceship raise a few eyebrows?"
Sheppard gave him an arch look. "I'm not gonna do the `invisible' thing. Not unless we need to, anyhow."
"Permission granted," said Weir. "Carson, gather your team and whatever supplies you need. John, Jumper Three is in the hangar and prepped for launch." Beckett left them alone, and Elizabeth touched Sheppard's jacket where a series of ragged rips were visible. "You might want to get a change of uniform while you have the chance."
"Oh yeah. Right." He blinked. "Sorry. I've kinda been in the moment for the last couple of days." John sighed. "How do you do it, Elizabeth? How do you look a scumbag in the eye and make nice, when all along you just want to deck him?"
"Thinking happy thoughts helps," she noted, "that, and hav ing a punching bag you can take out your annoyance on."
That raised the first smile Weir had seen from Sheppard since he came back through the Stargate. "Good advice. I'll keep it in mind."
She hesitated. "John, I know I don't have to say it, but I'm going to anyway, just for my own peace of mind. Tread carefully out there."
"Wanna go in my place?"
"What, and let Caldwell turn up on the Daedalus to find me gone?" Weir said lightly. "He'd be moving into my office in a hot minute." She smiled again, but it faded quickly. Elizabeth felt conflicted, and for once she knew it was showing on her face. "I think Daus has another agenda. Call it diplomatic instinct, but from what I hear from you and Rodney, I think you need to be prepared for another play from him."
Sheppard met her gaze and held it. "Don't worry. We'll be ready."
Advance. Parry. Lunge. Turn. Block. Strike. Strike. Parry. Strike once again.
Teyla moved through the training regimen with a flowing grace, her moves seamless and swift. Years of practice on Athos had turned the routine into something she could do by sheer reflex, the motions coming from memory ingrained in her muscles and nerves. The two short sticks in her hands hummed as they moved through the air of the courtyard, assailing invisible foes.
Sheppard had a name for these kinds of exercises; he told her they were called kata on his world, a word from the native language of the scientist Dr. Kusanagi back on Atlantis. Kusanagi's people, so John had explained, were known on Earth for a martial art called kar-ah-tey, although Teyla had never seen the bookish woman exhibit any prowess in it. Sheppard had shown her recordings, these dramatic presentations the Earthers called "movies", where men and women demonstrated this kar-ah-tey and other fighting styles called kung-foo and bok-sing, often in battles where they were hugely outnumbered or were forced to use eclectic common objects as weapons.
Many of the soldiers from Earth were also trained in these techniques, although none of them seemed to have the ability to balance on the tips of sword blades or skip across rooftops, like the fighters in the films. Teyla enjoyed sparring with them; the way they fought was fresh and it challenged her own skills. Similarly, she liked the occasional match against Ronon Dex. Where Teyla's stick fighting was all about grace and accuracy, the Satedan fought with power and speed. John Sheppard, by contrast, was a wary and careful opponent, looking for the swiftest way to bring the fight to a conclusion. Sheppard didn't glory in combat the way Ronon did; the colonel fought to win, not for the thrill of it. They were both very different men…
Parry. Back fist. Turn and sweep. Block. Advance. Cross and strike.
The clean, pure flow of the kata helped her clear her mind of distraction, of all the fears and concerns that had crowded her since they arrived on Halcyon. This was the first real moment of peace she had felt in days, the distant psychic murmur of the Wraith retreating as she found her focus. The woman let herself draw in, become centered.
She pivoted as she moved, her eye line crossing the cloistered corridors running around the edges of the quad. Teyla knew the palace guards were there, watching her without trying to be obvious about it. When she had asked a young trooper where she could take an hour of exercise, the look on the soldier's face was one half of shock, half of fascination. She heard him whisper to his comrades as she walked away, one word spoken like a prayer to ward off evil. Wraithkin.
The trooper had directed her here, to this training square. The large open courtyard itself was deserted; part of it was a short weapons range with steel target silhouettes in the shape of a man, and at the other points of the square were racks of wooden training swords, a jointed practice dummy and something like a climbing frame. Teyla moved in tight circles on a broad rectangle of yellow flagstones worn smooth by hundreds of years of sparring.
And rest.
She completed the exercise by bringing the sticks to her chest with a clack of wood on wood. Teyla panted, the air cool on her bare arms; and then there was a tingle at the back of her mind.
"Interesting," began Vekken, emerging from the shady side of the quad. "Your method has some similarities to the Halcyon two-dagger school from the Rekil Era. You seem very proficient."
Teyla watched him approach. "I led a large community on my homeworld. It is important to have the skills to back my leadership with force, if matters require it."
Vekken accepted this with a nod, pausing to examine the training weapons. "But you are no longer a leader? You serve Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard."
"We are colleagues," she corrected. "We work in unison." Teyla sensed the adjutant's verbal feint and parried it. "We have common goals."
The other man selected something resembling a quarterstaff, but with a curved hook at one end, like a herdsman's crook. "I often use this place to take exercise myself," he explained, removing his tunic. Beneath, Vekken wore light cotton clothing better suited to melee combat than his usual brocade jacket. He produced two glass bottles of water and offered her one.
Teyla took it and sipped warily.
"Still suspicious?" Vekken took a long draught from his bottle. "I would think you have nothing to fear from us now the Magnate has decided to be open with your commander."
"Would you give your trust easily in my place?" she replied.
Vekken gave a brief, rueful smile. "I would not." He weighed the staff in his hands. "You and I, Teyla Emmagan, we share an understanding that few others do. The touch of the Wraith upon us… It gives one a unique viewpoint, do you not agree?"
"That is one way to consider it." She moved to leave. "If you will excuse me-"
Vekken held out the staff to bar her way. "Ah, but there is a minor question of rules to address. You see, this square was allocated to me this morning, and you have used it without my permission."
"The soldier did not mention this."
"I imagine so. Normally, I would let the matter pass, but the soldiers are watching and it does not serve discipline for me to allow an infraction. You are on the quad," he tapped the flagstones with the staff, "and so I must take it from you. By force."
"Your rules?" Teyla sniffed. "I do not wish to fight you."
Vekken brought the staff up to a guard position. "Just a little friendly sparring, Teyla. Enough to satisfy protocol. Unless you wish to concede to me?"
She raised her sticks. "Very well. First to yield, then?"
He nodded. "First to yield." The staff flashed out at her and Teyla knocked it up and away, sidestepping and taking distance.