She glanced over to see that Newton was curled into a tight ball in the middle of the bed, his tiny eyes shut. Rodney was trying to be strict about not letting the kitten sleep in the bed, but Jennifer wasn’t planning to leave her laptop on as an alternate source of warmth, and anyway she didn’t mind the company.
“Rodney will say I’ve been spoiling you,” she said, and tried not to wonder whether he was ever really going to get the chance.
“Sheppard, you’re in my parking place!”
John grinned at the viewscreen in the control room, now showing Sam Carter with an impish smile on her face. “Sorry about that, Colonel. I happened to pick up this Ancient warship somewhere, and it takes up the whole driveway. We’re doing a little classic car restoration around here.”
“Where do you want me to put the Hammond then?” she asked, and John didn’t miss the caressing note in her voice on her ship’s name. If the shiny sleek Hammond were his, he’d be in love with it too.
“Think you’ve got room to bring it down over on the south pier?” he asked.
“The pier that’s to the south, or the pier that we used to call the south pier?” she replied, glancing forward at the control panels of the helmsman ahead of her. Or possibly out the main forward window at Atlantis on approach over a cloudless cold sea, weak afternoon sun casting the shadows of the towers long over the water.
“The pier we used to call the south pier which is now the west south west pier,” John clarified. “I think there’s room, though it’s tighter.”
“We can put the buggy in a pretty small space,” Sam said, grinning back. “Improved reverse thrusters.”
“Send me to school, Colonel,” John said. Her smile was infectious.
“Believe I will, Sheppard.” She cut the transmission cheerfully.
John switched to the external cameras to watch the Hammond land. Built on the same lines as the Daedalus, she incorporated the most recent generation of features, including more heavily armored superstructure around the bridge and larger and wider landing bays for 302s. With her paint shiny and every antenna trim, she was indeed a beautiful ship. It was a pleasure just to watch. He could only imagine how much fun she’d be to fly.
John glanced back toward the office door. Woolsey had his head buried in his laptop. John shrugged and looked at the controller on the gate array at the near board. “Sergeant, will you tell Mr. Woolsey the Hammond is in? I’m going down to the pier to greet them.” Woolsey wouldn’t want to go down anymore than Elizabeth had. She’d always made a point of making Caldwell come to her. But he could damn well go down if he wanted to.
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Taggart replied. “I’ll let him know.”
The wind was gusting as John came out of the tower and onto the pier, low clouds scudding in from the west, where the sun was dipping into purple shadows. More snow on the way, he’d bet. He’d seen those kinds of clouds over the Rockies as a boy, and it always meant another blow. It was well below freezing, so every flake would stick.
Sam Carter and several of her crew came down the ramp from the hatch. She shivered as she stepped out of the shelter of the ship wearing only her flight suit. “Nice climate you’ve got here, Sheppard.” Her hair was more bronze than golden now, caught back in a long tail instead of severely braided as it had been when she first came to Atlantis.
“Welcome to Atlantis, Colonel,” he said formally. It was what he’d said the first time, more than two years ago, now. He’d been glad to see her then, worn out from those sleepless and hopeless days after they’d lost Elizabeth. Having Carter step through that Stargate was like getting a real grownup, and he hadn’t realized how relieved he was until, those first briefings completed, he’d fallen into bed and slept the clock around.
“It’s nice to be back.” Sam looked up at the bright towers, a smile on her face as though she’d missed them. “Really nice.”
“Please let your crew know to make themselves comfortable,” John said. “We’ve got the locker rooms open with unlimited fresh water showers and there’s still the lunch line in the mess for another hour. Airman Dees there has maps of the city and transporter codes for your people, so they don’t get lost. But of course you know where everything is.”
Sam turned to her first officer. “I’m sure we’ll be glad of the showers after twelve days in space.” She gave John another smile. “Colonel Sheppard, this is Major Tyrone Franklin, the Hammond’s first officer.”
“Major.”
“Colonel.” They shook hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Franklin said. He was a young black man in his thirties, rather short and squarely built, with a solid handshake and a direct gaze.
“Some of it good, I hope,” John replied.
“All of it, sir,” Franklin replied.
“Franklin comes to us from flying a Lancer in Iraq,” Sam said. “And he did a tour at Kandahar a few years ago.”
“Oh,” Sheppard said. Suddenly he realized why the guy looked familiar. Lieutenant Franklin had just arrived at the base when Mitch and Dex went down. He remembered him now, looking grave and spooked in the background while Colonel Chapman explained that what they had to send home was less like remains and more like forensic evidence. He felt the cold suddenly, and it didn’t come with the rising snow-laden wind.
Sam had seen the change in his face, and she’d been around the block enough times to read it. “Franklin, it’s quite a city,” she said.
“My first alien city,” he said with a look like he still didn’t quite believe it. Last year he’d been in Iraq. Now he was flying a spaceship to an alien city in a different galaxy.
“The city’s pretty safe,” Sam said. “But bear in mind we’re still in a forward base. Something can come up any minute. We need to keep a full watch on board at all times. The other two watches can enjoy some liberty. You’ll arrange the rotation.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’ll go do that now.”
“Sounds good.”
Franklin turned and hurried back up the ramp, and Sam turned to him. “Franklin’s a good guy, John.”
“Yeah,” John said, moistening his lips against the wind. “I didn’t really know him in Kandahar. He came in right before I left. Just three or four weeks, something like that.” He made himself focus on her face. “How’d the Hammond shake out?”
Sam’s eyes lit. “Oh, she’s a beauty! You have to come aboard and let me give you the tour! She makes the good old Prometheus look like a Wright glider!” She glanced back toward her ship fondly. “The only thing is that we don’t have our 302s aboard yet. Homeworld Command didn’t want to delay our launch, given the problems you guys had getting here, to wait on our 302s when we had a glitch with them.”
“A glitch?” John raised an eyebrow.
“A glitch involving the Tok’ra and a very long story.”
“That kind of glitch.” John nodded. They had moved to the door of the tower, out of the wind. “I’m glad to see you, Sam.”
“It’s good to be back.” She put her hands on her hips, nodding fondly at the doors and the scoured concrete of the pier beyond. “I’m really sorry about Rodney.”
“We haven’t given up,” John said tightly.
“I know,” Sam said, and her eyes were grave. “And I’m here to help.”
John swallowed. “Thanks.” Franklin and four of her crewmembers were coming down the ramp again, walking toward them. “And you’re not going to believe what’s up.”