“I always had cats,” Mel said. She sat down on the couch, stroking Newton’s silky fur. Sleek and healthy, the muscles in his shoulders sharply defined. Dr. Keller was taking nice care of a good cat.
Newton rolled over purring in ecstasy, displaying furry white belly to be scritched in an undignified way.
Ronon shook his head, the kind of admiration in his eyes that she’d expect for shooting something really important, or maybe kicking a guy twice her size, as she rubbed Newton’s tummy, all four sets of claws flailing in the air, some of them sticking on her flight suit cuffs as he writhed. “I figured you had guts since you were a friend of Sheppard’s.”
Mel shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve known John a long time. Since we were teenagers, actually. He’s a good guy.”
Ronon sat down on the other end of the couch, keeping a wide space between him and Newton, who he eyed suspiciously. “Was he always like this?”
“Sheppard?” Mel looked down at the purring kitten, now chewing playfully on her cuff with all four legs wrapped around her arm. She rubbed it under the chin, and it yawned, displaying a full set of nice clean needle sharp teeth. “He was a really sweet kid. A nice guy, kind of awkward.” She shook her head, remembering. “Trusting. Kind. The guy you go to when you have a problem because you know he’ll be there for you. He always had his heart on his sleeve.”
“Sheppard?”
“Yeah. Kind of a prep, but not snobby. He could have rushed, but I don’t think he cared about it. And then his dad messed his mom up over the divorce, and he had to work really hard to stay in school.” Mel stroked the cat’s little flat head. It had the long Siamese nose alright. “That’s why he joined the service. He took his mom’s part, and he had to have a way to pay for school. So no frat for him after that.” She gave Ronon a quick smile. “The detachment’s better than any frat.”
Ronon probably didn’t know what a frat was, but he nodded all the same. The concept worked, even if the exact words didn’t. “He’s not like that now.”
“Who is?” Mel shrugged. “I bet you’re not the guy you were when you were eighteen either.”
Ronon looked startled, then his face relaxed. “No,” he said.
“John said you were former military?”
Ronon nodded. “Yeah. When I was eighteen I was in my second year in examination school, getting ready to join the Immortals after the third year. I’d do three years there enlisted, then get my commission.”
“Did everybody have to do a tour as enlisted first?” Mel thought that sounded like a pretty fair idea.
“Yeah. You learn everything from the basics up. How can you command troops if you’ve never been commanded?”
“Makes sense.” Mel looked around at the lounge, at the windows opening onto night. “I’ve been in nineteen years. I might retire next summer. I don’t know.” She hadn’t said anything about it to John, or to anybody else yet. Saying it to someone Air Force would be like promising to do it.
Ronon’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t like it?”
Mel shrugged. “If I didn’t like it I wouldn’t have stayed in nineteen years. But I’ve got some other stuff I want to do in my life, stuff I’ve put on hold for a long time. I don’t see any way to do it without getting out.” The kitten purred, writhing on her lap. “For a long time the scale balanced the other way, either/or. But now it’s not.” She gently extracted a stuck claw from her flight suit. “I’ve done a lot of things that I really wanted to do, a lot of amazing things that I’ll never be able to tell anybody about. But I’ve done it. And now I’m wondering if it’s time to do something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet.” Mel shook her head. “I’m not sure a commercial airline job would cut it for me. I like training. I like teaching kids how to stay alive and make their kills. I like being somewhere new, dealing with different people.” She glanced up. “That’s one way John and I are just alike.”
Ronon put his head to the side. “So stay here.”
“That simple?” Mel frowned. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure the Air Force isn’t going to let me stay here if I retire.”
“Why not?”
“For one thing, it’s classified all to hell,” Mel said.
Ronon shrugged. “You’ve already got security clearance, right?” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Look, the way I understand this contractor thing, I’m Satedan but I work for the IOA as a contractor. I do my thing, they pay me for my skills. Right?”
“That’s usually how it works, yes.”
“So why can’t you stay here and be a contractor here? For, say, Sateda?”
Mel blinked.
“One thing this business with the Genii showed us is that if we want our world we’re going to have to show the Genii we can hold it. And that means reforming the Citizen Brigades. It means we need experienced officers who can train, and most of ours are dead. The ones who aren’t have gotten settled somewhere else by now. We need to get the Satedan Band back, and we need to have a plan. If the Earthlings or Taur’i or whatever you call yourselves can hire a Satedan as a contractor, why can’t Sateda hire you?” Ronon looked down at the claws hooked around her wrist. “I think we’d like you. And I expect you’d like us.”
Mel blinked again. A door had opened in a blank wall, one she’d never thought was there. Maybe she’d want to go through it and maybe she wouldn’t. But there it was. And maybe it was right. Maybe it could be the door into summer at last, the door to the place where she belonged. Her eyes hazed unexpectedly, and she looked purposefully down at the cat, smoothing its soft fur. “I’ll think about that,” she said. “I’ll think about that a lot.”
“No hurry,” Ronon said, standing up. “But do you think you could do me a favor?”
“What’s that?”
Ronon shifted from one foot to another. “Carry that animal back to Keller’s quarters for me?”
“Incoming wormhole!” Banks shouted, and John came tearing out of the office, one hand automatically checking his pocket to make sure he had extra clips. “We’re receiving a digital signal.” She turned her head, the change in posture telling him a second before her voice. “And an IDC. It’s Stargate Command.”
John let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Put them on,” he said. “And call Carter and ask her to get up here. Tell her the SGC’s managed to get their hands on a ZPM and is calling in.”
The static on the screen resolved itself into General O’Neill’s face, looking somewhat relieved. “Sheppard? So you’re still in the land of the living.”
“I am, sir,” John said, and couldn’t help breaking into a smile. “We’re just hanging out here. How about you?”
“When Caldwell left you were missing.”
“I’m found,” John said. He sobered. “But we’ve had some serious problems, as I’m sure you’ve heard.”
“I have,” O’Neill said. “What’s the situation with McKay?”
“The same,” John said. “The mechanical iris is holding, and we’ve had no further computer disruptions. They haven’t found us yet, but when they do we’re still screwed without a shield.”
“The status of the Hammond?”
“Colonel Carter’s on her way up,” John replied. “She’ll be able to tell you the details, but the Hammond is spaceworthy again.”
O’Neill nodded. “Good to hear.”
“Is Mr. Woolsey…” John began.
“We don’t know yet.” O’Neill shrugged. “His final hearing with the IOA is day after tomorrow. Supposedly either he’ll be on his way back to you, or someone else will be.”
“I see,” John said tightly. That was not good news. John would be relieved to have Woolsey back, but the idea of getting some unknown quantity decided upon by the IOA…