“And he can decide in our favor?”
“Possibly he can swing things in our favor,” Dick said. “We’ll see. I really don’t know what to expect.”
“You know that you may use me in any way that will help,” Teyla said.
Dick turned and met her grave eyes. “I appreciate that. And you have been very helpful.”
“I am an Athosian trader,” Teyla said. “I make impossible deals.”
“Colonel Sheppard.”
Sheppard broke stride, looked over his shoulder, frowning. It was never a good day when Carson Beckett called him by his title.
“If I might have a word with you, Colonel?”
Worse and worse. Full rank and formal diction. Sheppard stopped, and took a careful breath. “I’m scheduled for a meeting with Homeworld Command and the IOA in about forty-five minutes—”
“I know.” Beckett’s face was grave, the worry lines between his eyebrows even more pronounced than usual.
Sheppard waited, but the doctor didn’t say anything more. “All right. Lead on.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Beckett said, still formal, and turned on his heel. Sheppard trailed behind him down corridors that seemed oddly crowded, full of strangers in unfamiliar uniforms. They were heading toward the medical section, but Beckett seemed inclined to avoid the transporters, took them down a set of stairs instead.
“This isn’t anything good, is it?” Sheppard asked, as the lab door closed behind them. They’d come in the back way, avoiding the areas where the SGC personnel were working, and now Carson touched Ancient fittings, adjusting the lights and bringing a bank of screens to life. They showed feeds from the security cameras, Sheppard realized, four different views of Todd in his cell. The Wraith was sitting quietly, back straight, hands open on his thighs. Sheppard could see the opening of the hand-mouth crossing the right palm, the slit-pupiled eyes staring at nothing — meditating, you might have said, except he doubted the Wraith did that.
“It depends on your perspective, of course,” Beckett said, “but — no. I don’t think so.”
“Todd?” Sheppard turned his back on the screens. He didn’t like the look of things, didn’t like the Wraith’s unnatural stillness. He cut off that thought, made himself focus on Beckett.
“Aye.” Beckett looked past him toward the images in the screens. “There’s a good deal we don’t know anyway, like how long they can go between feedings, and it’s not a question he’s willing to answer. But I believe he’s beginning to starve.”
“There’s nothing we can do about that,” Sheppard said, more forcefully than he’d meant. He didn’t know if this Beckett knew that he’d — dealt with — that problem once before, and it still showed up in his nightmares. “It’s not like we can ask for volunteers.”
Too late, he remembered the Hoffan volunteer, stooped and sick, willing to face the worst death he knew to give his people a chance at life. And then it had all gone horribly wrong… From the flicker of expression, so did Beckett, but his voice was steady when he answered. “No. But that’s not our — his — biggest problem.”
“All right.” Sheppard waited.
“I’ve received a communication from an IOA representative,” Beckett said. “They’ve been approached by a — member state, though they’ve too much delicacy to say which one. They want Todd for research.”
“No way.” Sheppard shook his head, hard. “They can’t do that.”
“Oh, they didn’t put it in so many words,” Beckett said. “And if you asked them outright, I’m sure they’d deny it, tell you it was just a security issue. That’s what they called it, mind you, a matter of security. Said it wasn’t safe to keep him here, so close to a gate, and where he could conceivably get hold of the coordinates of Earth. But then you get down to the fine print, and there’s a paragraph or three about offering him the chance to earn privileges by cooperating with medical teams, and about non-cooperation being unacceptable—” He stopped again, controlling himself with an effort. “I won’t be part of it, John.”
“How the hell are we going to stop it?” Sheppard demanded. “They’ve got a point about the security issue—”
“Stasis.”
Sheppard stopped, his mouth falling open, closed it with a snap. “Yes.”
Beckett nodded. “It makes sense. He won’t starve, which means nobody has to face the problem of feeding him, and while he’s in the chamber there’s no way he can escape or steal information. It’s perfect.”
“The IOA won’t go for it,” Sheppard said.
“But Mr. Woolsey will.” Beckett smiled. “And he’s still in charge here. That just leaves convincing him.” He nodded toward the screens.
“You want me to talk Todd into going into stasis,” Sheppard said.
“Aye.” Beckett’s smile widened. “For some reason, he seems to like you.”
“Great,” Sheppard said, under his breath. “Now?”
“No time like the present,” Beckett answered.
Sheppard touched his earpiece, trying to order his racing thoughts. “Lorne.” Get out of the meeting, that was first, then talk to Todd—
“Colonel?” Lorne’s voice sounded in his ear.
“I need you to take over a meeting for me. IOA and Homeworld Command, in—” Sheppard glanced at his watch. “—half an hour. It’s nothing special, they just needed someone from Atlantis’s military contingent to be there.”
“Uh, sir—” Lorne paused, and Sheppard could almost hear him rethinking his protest. “What do you want me to tell them when they ask where you are?”
“Tell them something came up unexpectedly.” Sheppard smiled to himself. “A security matter. Nothing serious, but needed to be locked down right away.”
“All right.” Lorne’s tone was frankly dubious, but Sheppard ignored it.
“Thanks, Major. Sheppard out.”
No time like the present, Beckett had said. Sheppard looked at the screens, seeing Todd motionless in the spartan space — bed, table, chair, all stripped to the bone to keep him from taking advantage, the forcefield giving a blue tinge to everything even in Atlantis’s regular lighting. Experimentation — Sheppard shook his head. Even if he hadn’t had plenty of ugly examples from Earth’s past to think about, there was Michael fresh in his memory. Not a good idea. Not at all.
There was a Marine detail on duty at the entrance to the cells, two of them holding back to keep an eye on the monitors, the third forward where he could see into the cell. They were new to Atlantis, people Sheppard hadn’t seen before, and he returned their salutes with more precision than usual, gave them his ID to log this visit into the system.
“Thank you, sir,” the blond one said — the name patch read Hernandez — and returned the ID.
“Better stay well back,” the second guard said, and Sheppard glanced over his shoulder.
“Has he tried anything?”
“Not yet.” The young man — Pedersen — looked faintly embarrassed, and the third one shrugged uncomfortably.
“It gives you the creeps, sir.”
“No kidding.” Sheppard looked past them to the cell. It couldn’t be a lot of fun standing guard down here, stuck watching an alien that you knew thought of you as food, that you knew was getting hungry… He made a mental note to talk to the Marine captain in charge of the details, suggest he assign at least one experienced man to each guard team. They’d talk, of course, probably even exaggerate the Wraith threat, but at least they’d be talking facts rather than rumor, and that should make a difference.
And he was just putting off the inevitable. He took a breath and moved closer to the forcefield. Todd’s eyes shifted and focused, the pupils widening for an instant, then narrowing to hairline slits. There was a fractional hesitation before he pushed himself to his feet and came to stand just within arm’s reach of the field. Up close, without the intervention of the TV cameras, Sheppard could see the changes even more clearly: the hair was dull and coarse, the bones sharp under the skin, the way his fingers of his feeding hand curled inward, protectively. He cleared his throat, trying not to see.