Most of the first year, Dr. Weir was entirely out of contact with Earth, Dick said. I'm beginning to envy her.
I am not suggesting we hire someone new, Zelenka said. Frankly what I need as much as someone with Rodney's computer skills is someone who understands how Rodney thinks. Myself, I try not to think like Rodney most of the time. It is better for my peace of mind.
What are you suggesting? Dick asked as patiently as possible.
Jeannie Miller, Zelenka said.
Mr. McKay's sister?
She has worked with him in the past, and she understands him as much I suspect as anyone does. If anyone can figure out what back doors Rodney has left for himself and how to close them, I suspect it is her.
I should really write to her in any event, to inform her. I was planning to wait a little longer, but I'll go ahead and ask if she willing to come out and give us some assistance.
What would be very helpful, Zelenka said. It will be at least couple of weeks before the Daedalus can get here, but if we wait and it leaves without her, it will be a month or more.
I'll see what I can do. And then figure out how to explain it to the IOA in a way that doesn't overly emphasize Dr. McKay's unauthorized modifications to the computer system.
I will leave you that in your hands, Zelenka said quickly, and left.
I sure you will, Dick said to no one in particular, and began typing again.
Chapter Thirty-two: Dangerous Passages
Teyla stretched, trying to find balance. Her left hip was still tender, though the range of motion was back. The problem was weight. When she tried to stand on her left foot and extend her right foot straight out in front until her toes were level with her shoulders, her left hip gave. It was very frustrating.
Dr. Keller had said that the bone bruise would heal well eventually, but a matter of weeks seemed like such a long time. It has only been six days, Dr. Keller had said. You have to give it time. And yet time was the thing it felt there was so little of. Every day, every moment that flew by, was another moment that Rodney remained in captivity, was another day that he might be giving the Wraith everything they wished to know, was another day he might be in torment while they had no idea where he was or what they might do.
It weighed upon them, knowing there was nothing to do. How do you search the galaxy for one man?
Teyla stretched, extending her arms in counterpoint to her legs, each extension graceful and controlled, her long thin slitted skirt opening in flowing lines.
Mr. Woolsey said that they must give their sources time to work. John had only returned from returning the Avenger to the Genii day before yesterday. It would take time for their intelligence networks to be cast wide to bring in useful information, even if Ladon Radim acted immediately to keep their bargain. Teyla did not doubt that he would at least bend some effort to keeping it, but how much and how quickly was questionable. And so they must prepare and wait, make certain that everything was in readiness when the call came.
It seemed like so little. It felt like doing nothing, and how could they do nothing even for a few hours? It was worse with Torren on New Athos. When he was here, Teyla never lacked for something to do. Every moment was filled and more so. While he was with Kanaan, she might sleep with no regard for his schedule, eat with her friends, go to the gym. And yet this day seemed to be taking forever.
Though it was only ten in the morning.
Stretch. Concentrate. Surely even if her mind were too disordered to meditate, she could find release for this tension in movement. Eyes closed, stretching toward the bright snowlight that came in through the stained glass window, the city's heating systems purring softly.
The sound of the studio door opening.
Oh, sorry, John said.
She opened her eyes to see him standing just inside, clad in sweat pants and a black t shirt, his gym bag in his hand.
“I didn’t realize you were here,” he said.
Which was an out and out lie, Teyla thought. If he had not known she was here he would not be carrying his bantos sticks. Also, he would have knocked on the studio door before entering if he truly did not know who was using this room.
John at least had the good grace to look sheepish. “I can come back,” he said.
For a moment she was almost tempted to say, yes, you can, so foul was her mood. But it would be unfair to take it out on John, when he was as worried as she was and probably equally keyed up. “I do not mind sharing the room,” she said, her shoulder cracking as she completed the stretch and sank into her last posture. Thankfully, her hip held, though it twinged rather painfully.
John shrugged, his sticks protruding from his gym bag. “Want to spar? I promise I’ll take it easy with your hip.”
“Will you?” Teyla’s eyebrows rose. “Will you take it easy on me?” Absolute nerve, as though she didn’t clean the floor with him nine times out of ten.
“Yeah, I mean, you’re just getting back into it and all…” He gave her a sideways smile. “Maybe I’ll win for a change.”
“I would not place any bets on that,” Teyla said, going over to the bench for her sticks.
“Think you can take me with your hip messed up?”
Teyla turned around, lifting her sticks into guard, her eyes meeting his in challenge. “I can take you anytime, any way I want.”
“Ok then.” He lifted his, a smile transforming his face, reminding her suddenly of that so much younger man who had come to Athos nearly six years ago, who had said that he liked tea and Ferris wheels and things that went very fast. “Come and get me.”
“I will,” she said, beginning a long, wide circle around him, sticks at the ready.
There were ways to compensate for an injury. In real fights this happened all the time. More than once she’d had to take on an opponent when she was already wounded. Of course John had both the height and reach on her, not to mention the strength, but it had never done him that much good before.
Circling, circling. She saw the movement in his eyes an instant before he lunged, and she sidestepped it easily, spinning around him on her right foot, bringing the stick down in a stinging blow across the back of his thighs.
“Yow!” He twisted around, dropping out of guard as he did, his left arm rising.
Perfect. A straightforward forearm blow, right across the inside of his left arm.
John dropped the left hand stick, and Teyla backed off, circling, a little smile on her face. “Are you going easy on me? Or perhaps I should go easy on you?”
He bent and picked it up, his eyes not leaving hers. “That wasn’t fair.”
“Wasn’t it?” she asked airily. “You can surrender anytime you like.”
“I don’t think so.” He was grinning as he picked up the stick, though she could see the long red welt standing out on his forearm. “We’re not done.”
“No, we’re not,” she said. Circling. Circling. This time he was going to wait and let her come to him. Which was smarter, actually, give the difference in their heights. Playing defensively was a better strategy for him, but one he almost never used.
A feint, and she dropped below his response, letting the momentum of his movement carry him sideways to her as she once again stepped behind him. Both sticks, in swift one-two motion, right across the seat of the pants. No doubt it was less painful than the forearm blow but more embarrassing.
He backed off, scrubbing his sweat soaked hair back off his forehead. “What’s gotten into you today?”
“Merely blowing off some steam,” Teyla said. It felt so good to move like this, to feel each connection solid and real. “If it is too much for you, you can retire.”