Act 2

Sheppard didn't knock. He didn't even think of knocking. He just stormed in and started on the offensive.

"I sure hope you're satisfied," he said, letting the volume of his voice speak to the intensity of his anger.

"Colonel Sheppard—" Woolsey started.

"Don't 'Colonel Sheppard' me!" Sheppard exploded. "Do you know what you've done?"

"I understand your concern," Woolsey said.

"No," he contradicted the expedition commander, "You don't understand anything."

Woolsey sighed and started to rise. Instead he stopped when Sheppard leaned down, bracing his arms against the desk and all but pushed his face right against Woolsey's.

"The Athosians were more than just our friends. They were our allies and our guides. We're still little more than strangers in this galaxy and without their knowledge and their help we would have been dead a long time ago."

"But, Colonel Sheppard, the fact remains – in attempting to rescue Teyla from Michael's compound the loss of life was completely unacceptable. Two whole teams, practically wiped out in the initial explosion and countless other souls lost in the subsequent battle against the Wraith."

"Woolsey," Sheppard pressed, "As bad as it was, as much as I might, in other circumstances, agree with you, it's nothing compared to the loss of life to come if we don't get Teyla back from Michael."

"Ah yes," Woolsey said. His sudden understanding lent his voice a very sarcastic edge. "Your Intel from the future."

"We have to get her back, Richard," Sheppard began pacing, "and before the baby arrives."

"Colonel, I've read the report, in some detail as a matter of fact. You found the place in McKay's information. She wasn't there. You've already changed the—"

"No," Sheppard argued again. "Michael still has her, and the baby, and once that's been born there'll be nothing to stop him from fulfilling his plan – destroying the Wraith and then subjugating the humans of this galaxy to his will. Those that survive, that is, just like McKay told me."

"Before you came back and changed things," Woolsey insisted, before going on, "and anyway, Colonel, wouldn't that in actual fact be a good thing?"

"Letting millions of people die?"

"Ensuring that Michael has the capacity to destroy the Wraith."

"No!" Sheppard swung round and glared at Woolsey. "If this is the real agenda behind the IOA replacing Carter… If this was their plan all along—"

"Colonel Sheppard, are you suggesting that the IOA would sacrifice Teyla's life in order to achieve some kind of twisted—"

"No, Woolsey, you did. You pretty much said as much."

"I said no such thing," Woolsey argued, finally standing and pushing out his chest in a self important display, "I was merely pointing out the positive of a tragic situation that has occurred as a consequence of war."

"Bullshit!" Sheppard spat, shocking Woolsey to silence. After a moment he added, "Besides which, it's an entirely moot point." He fixed Woolsey with another angry glare. "We're rescuing Teyla."

**

Lisstha thanked the man they'd left on guard at the door and pushed it open to go quietly inside to see Miran.

He sat up as soon as he saw her.

"Lisstha," he said her name with such emotion that she almost lost her resolve for what she came to tell him.

"Miran, you should not have spoken as you did," she said as he took her hands in his own.

"Someone had to," he told her, kissing her softly in greeting.

"This isn't the time. It isn't right."

"Lisstha, listen to me."

"No, Miran, it is you must listen to me." She let go of his hands and walked away from him a little way. "I am willing to make this sacrifice to keep my family and friends safe. After I am gone you will be needed in the village."

He huffed in disbelief. "They would be happy to be rid of me."

"They would be foolish to be rid of you," Lisstha corrected him. "The village needs the strength that is in your blood if it is to survive."

"There is no other thing to do, Miran." She shook her head and turned to face him again, "I want you to promise something to me. I want you to—"

"Don't even think that I'd take another than you."

"But you have to, don't you see?" she told him. "I told you the village needs your strength and the only way for that is for you to bring children."

"No, Lisstha, listen," he said, "I won't let you go to this end, can't you see that? The angel that came, he told me what will happen. The journey does not end with the Haradians. You will be taken from them to a terrible servitude. A servitude to which all of the others have gone before, and there is no chance of return. The moment you cease to please those that would master you, you will die a horrible, painful death at their hands."

"You're wrong," she said, but wrapped her arms around herself in fear of his words. He had never lied to her before, why would he now, when there was so much to be said between them in so little time? "I know that you love me, and you wish to change my mind, but—"

"It is the truth. The angel told me—"

"You should be careful, Miran. Heed the words that have already been told to you. This may be no angel, but a demon sent to lead us all astray – or the servant of demons here to test our faith in what has always been." She came to him and gripped his hands again, tightly in her own. "This sacrifice is the only way to keep our people safe from the wrath of the Haradians. Please… I do not wish to spend this time in strife with you. I did not come to argue. I just…" her voice cracked slightly, "I just wanted to see you one last time."

"It does not have to be a last time," he insisted, "Only trust me."

"Trust the voice of this 'angel' you say you have seen," she pulled her hands from his. "No, Miran, not even for our love will I risk the safety of my people." She blinked back the tears that gathered in her eyes. "If you cannot see the foolishness of your words and deeds, then you are too blinded by the obsession of keeping me at your side. You cannot call it love unless you can let me go."

She turned from him and started toward the door. Desperately he called after her. Blinded by her tears now, she forced herself to keep on moving. She could not go to him now – it would break her resolve, and she could not allow herself to be responsible for the destruction of her village, no matter how deep her fear, or how much she wanted, truly wanted, to stay with Miran.

She closed the door on his desperate cries of her name; leaned against its smooth surface and let out the sob that had gathered in her chest.

"Goodbye, my love," she whispered.

**

It was a scene not unlike he had seen before on more than one occasion, only this time it carried a bitter air of finality. He stepped further into the corridor where the Athosians were piling their belongings ready to take them to the gate room.

"Halling," he called out to the man who had assumed the mantle of leadership. "Hold on."

"Colonel Sheppard," Halling said as he straightened up from checking on a number of cartons and boxes. "I know why you are here, and believe me, I understand the gesture, but my mind, and that of my fellow Athosians, is made up."

"Woolsey doesn't know what he's doing," Sheppard said, with an urgency infusing his usual lazy tones. "He's talking out of his ass."

"He is your leader, John Sheppard," Halling argued, "and even if you refuse to see it, I believe, he knows exactly your government's agenda."

"You—"

"How many times must we see it; be subjected to it before you too see as I see now. We have never truly been trusted, nor fully welcomed among your people."

"That's not true," Sheppard protested, the hurt clear in his voice, "there are no other people I'd rather have at my side."

Halling smiled, just a little. It was a sad smile, but genuine as he reached out and put a hand onto Sheppard's shoulder.

"I know that is true of you, John," he said softly, "but I am not speaking of you alone. I speak of your leaders and your military." He sighed as he continued, "This may be difficult for you to hear, Colonel, but there were several occasions when Teyla came, upset, to seek my counsel; when she would have left Atlantis to return to her people because of the things she felt, and the things that were said to her, and of her."

"Isolated individuals," Sheppard tried to argue, but Halling shook his head, stopping the words from finding their way from his lips.

"Not so, and well you know it," Halling said, then he sighed again, "It is no reflection on you personally that I choose to lead my people away now. Only it is the way it must be. If we Athosians were to stay in Atlantis now, we would have no more freedom than we had when we were prisoners of the one you call Michael."

"Halling—"

"Hear me in full, my friend, please," Halling held up his hand to stop him from saying anything more. "The one thing that kept us all from falling from our fear when we were captives was the certainty that Teyla would find some way to come to us in rescue. I know her. The thing that must sustain her through her own trials is the knowledge that we will do the same."

"We're going to find her," Sheppard interrupted. "I told Woolsey—"

"I am certain you did," Halling nodded, "but my decision must stand, Colonel Sheppard. Until Teyla's return to us, I must lead these people – what few we are – and my first responsibility is to their safety and comfort, both of body and spirit."

Sheppard sighed as he saw the resolute expression on Halling's face. "Where will you go?" he asked.

"Doctor McKay has located a suitable world for us to build our settlement."

"McKay—" Sheppard blustered, feeling a rush of antagonism toward his fellow team member at what he considered a betrayal.

Halling nodded. "Right after he and I had this self same argument that you and I now share." He sighed. "Sheppard, I know that you, and Doctor McKay, and even Ronon would argue the same for us to remain behind on Atlantis, but it just cannot be. We must find our own place in the galaxy once more… and we must find Teyla and bring her home to us."

**

It was long after dusk before Lisstha returned to her home. She had spent the time walking alone among her people, settling her grief and her fear. He parents and her brother were waiting for her, but she waved them away, still wanting solitude.

"I must rest," she told them softly. "I have a long journey ahead of me."

"Of course," her father said softly, and kissed her brow before letting her go to her room at the very rear of the long rectangular home. She walked the corridor slowly, her legs tired, as heavy as if they were made of stone. All of her limbs felt the same, as if walking away from Miran's love had somehow taken all of her strength. Lethargically she pushed open the door and went inside, not bothering to push it closed behind her. She knew her family well and trusted their respect of her to keep them from following.

When the voice came from behind her as she entered the room, she froze.

"If it were not so tragic and unnecessary you could say almost that it was an act of heroism." She heard the door close behind her as the voice spoke again. "Please do not do anything so foolish as to cry out or draw attention to my presence. That would make this all the more of a tragedy."

"Who are you?" she demanded, spinning round to face the intruder.

"Miran told you already who I am." A figure stepped from the shadows behind the door. A man… he tilted his head to regard her. Miran's angel…

She knew the stories of the supernatural beings that were called angels among her people. She squinted at the one she saw standing framed by her door though half in shadow. Tall he was, certainly, and the half-light on his face lent him an otherworldly appearance, as did the pale quality of his eyes, but in spite of the strange markings she could see on the lighted side of his cheek, she would not have described him as at all reptilian in appearance as the legends of her people insisted.

"An angel would not counsel actions that would bring the wrath of the Haradians down on my village," she said defiantly.

He turned his head to the side, tilting it to regard her coolly. "I counsel salvation," he said. "The Haradians would take you from your village to give you in payment for their own freedom to ones far more insidious than the Haradia themselves. It is your journey's end that you should fear."

"I do not fear it because I know it will keep my people safe."

The 'angel' walked toward her, a cat stalking his prey and as he came into the light, even though each of her nerves and senses screamed at her to back away, her defiant resolve made her stand in place; accept his touch as he ran his fingertips over her face.

"So naïve," he said quietly, "for all these years your Haradian masters have kept from you, by their own servitude, the most fearful of terrors and you do not even know…" he shook his head then. "Such a shame it cannot continue."

"What do you mean?" she asked, stepping back in fear of his words.

"I must take you from here," he told her, sounding almost regretful, "If your people will not willingly comply with what must be, then I must ensure that it will occur by any other means."

"No," she said, beginning to look around her in panic for a way to escape him. "I will not allow you to do this."

"You have no choice," he said. He raised his hand toward her, and she saw he carried a weapon not unlike the ones the Haradian guards, that came with the Hag, carried. She had no time to make sense of the fact, for in the next moment a tingling heat spread through her body, enveloping every inch of her skin, pricking every nerve with intense sensation until her flailing senses could stand no more, and shrouded her in the comfort of oblivion.

The last thing she saw brought a scream, that never found escape, bubbling from deep inside her … the bloodied, severed head of the man she loved.

**

The last thing she expected was to see anyone with Major Lorne when she did her late evening rounds. It was for that reason that the small yelp escaped her as she opened the door of the isolation room in which Colonel Carter had suggested it would be safer to keep him, and not the 'who' of the figure standing at the bedside watching the steady pulse pass across the monitors. Nor the two armed guards who stood flanking the door through which she'd entered.

"Doctor Keller," Woolsey greeted her.

"Mister Woolsey," she said trying not to sound panicked. "What are you doing here?"

"Playing a hunch," he said mildly.

"I think maybe you shouldn't be here," Jennifer said, trying to sound official.

"I think I'm maybe ready for some answers now, Doctor," he said, the mildness becoming harsher, almost clipped.

"I don't know what you mean," she said and tried to move around him to check the flow of the drip, and the readings from the monitor, as well as make a visual examination of the Major.

"I'm neither blind, nor stupid, Doctor Keller. I know there's something going on, and looking at Major Lorne's appearance I believe I could make a pretty safe guess as to what that something is. Now either you start to provide me with some information or you will be leaving on the Daedalus when she returns to Earth." He caught hold of her arm and signalled to the soldiers, who began to step forward. "Which is it to be, Doctor?"

Jennifer sighed, "I'm following standing orders, Mister Woolsey, to say nothing."

"That's most admirable, I'm sure," he said without letting go, "but my command supersedes any orders given by my predecessor and I'm telling you that I want to know what's going on here."

Jennifer snatched her arm from his grasp and massaged the flesh where his fingers had dug in. She glared at the soldiers, until Woolsey signalled to them to step away again. Then she answered, "When he was a captive, Major Lorne was exposed to Michael's retrovirus."

"What!" Woolsey exclaimed as though it had been at the same time both his greatest fear and also the furthest thing from his mind. "Do you mean to tell me that he's going to turn into one of those… things… one of Michael's zombies?"

"I wouldn't put it exactly like that," she said.

"Then how would you put it, Doctor?" Woolsey frowned deeply as he gingerly leaned forward to look more closely at the Major. "His presence in this state compromises the security of this base. Exactly when were you going to tell me?"

"I wasn't," she snapped, finally tiring of his officious threats, "it was a medical decision, and with the standing orders I'd been given I was to report only to Colonel Sheppard if and when the situation became unmanageable."

"This is mutiny!"

"This is the Hippocratic Oath, Mister Woolsey, because I'm certain that the next words out of your mouth are going to be some form of order that will threaten the life of my patient."

"How dare you!" Woolsey blustered.

"Contradict me then," she said. "Prove to me that I'm wrong, and that you're not about to suggest that having Major Lorne around here threatens the safety of Atlantis," she fixed a mock surprised expression on her face and continued, "Oh wait, you can't… didn't you just say that only a moment ago?"

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Doctor Keller," Woolsey said angrily, "nor does it address the issue."

"Which is what?" she demanded. "That you're going to have your goons bundle me up and ship me back to Earth?"

"Which is keeping someone around who's turning into… into…"

"A hybrid, Mister Woolsey," Jennifer said, tired also of dancing around the issue. "Major Lorne was exposed to Michael's retrovirus and he's turning into a hybrid. And whilst I'd be the last to try and defend Michael, it's my medical opinion that, in giving him the drug, Michael may well have saved his life."

"What do you mean?" Woolsey asked, momentarily disarmed.

"Everything that Doctor McKay told me, and the report from the medics aboard Daedalus that rescued him from Michael's cruiser, suggest that without the retrovirus, there's no way the Major would have survived the crushing injuries he suffered in the collapse of the compound."

"But…" Woolsey appeared to consider her words and was confused by them, but only for a moment before he said, "but what are we going to do?"

"Do, Mister Woolsey?"

"Well, we can't leave him here like this."

"What do you suggest," she snapped, "that we lock him up? He still needs medical attention even though he's not in danger from his injuries any longer, his body's undergoing massive trauma. His DNA is literally being rewritten. Even now it's possible that the shock of that could kill him."

"There must be something you can do," Woolsey said, "some way to stop this."

"I've already been administering the strongest NTRI drugs that we currently possess, but they did little to slow the progress of the drug. A few days ago, I added in a small quantity of the original retrovirus that Doctor Beckett created, but—"

"Doctor Keller," Woolsey interrupted, "unlike my predecessor I'm neither a scientist nor have I a grasp of medical knowledge."

"I've been giving the major drugs that were specifically designed to combat infection by retroviruses, like AIDS." She paused to watch understanding pass over Woolsey's face, "They don't work on Michael's retrovirus. Doctor Beckett's retrovirus was a little bit more successful – at least at first."

"What do you mean?" Woolsey asked again.

"Carson created the drug to suppress the Wraith aspects of the DNA present in the Iratus bug from which our best information leads us to believe the Wraith evolved. Michael's retrovirus, from what I've been able to ascertain, imposes Wraith DNA onto the human genome. At first the two almost balanced each other out."

"But not any more?" Woolsey asked.

Jennifer shook her head, "Over time, it's almost as if Michael's retrovirus adapted to the presence of Beckett's and the changes started again. I'm still trying to find a solution, but as fast as I find something that works, even for a short time, the retrovirus adapts." She sighed, "besides which, genetics is not exactly my specialty."

"Perhaps Doctor Beckett—"

"No," she said, "I already considered that, and the risk of awakening Carson is unacceptable. I doubt he'd survive and I'm not prepared to have that on my conscience."

"But—"

"If we found a way to get our hands on some of the serum that Michael was injecting into Doctor Beckett, then perhaps I'd consider it, but… since you won't authorise any further action against Michael then that's out of the question. So… Major Lorne will have to make do with my efforts… and I remind you that he's my patient, and therefore outside of your jurisdiction – unless of course you plan on making good on that threat of removing me as head of the Medical Division of this expedition?"

"God knows I should!" Woolsey exploded. "For your sheer insubordination toward me, but the irritating truth of the matter is that technically, since you were following standing orders, you've done nothing wrong. But keeping him here, this is insanity, doctor."

"This is defending the rights of my patient, Mister Woolsey, a member of the team. Didn't you say we needed to prioritise, and defend the Atlantis expedition?"

"Don't quote my own words back at me, Doctor Keller," Woolsey said angrily.

"How can I not?" she exclaimed in frustration. "Since the moment you stepped foot on this base you've been singularly unreasonable, and you haven't got a clue what's going on in the Pegasus galaxy or how best to deal with it. You won't listen to your advisors, and you alienate those with whom we've spent years building relationships. You can't keep on riding roughshod over everything that's gone before. If you want to be the commander of this expedition then you've got to earn the respect, not expect it just because of your position."

"Are you done?" Woolsey asked her. She threw up her hands and turned to leave the room, eager to get away from the annoying little weasel she saw in him.

"Doctor Keller?" his voice halted her steps in the doorway, and she turned to face him.

"What?"

"How long?"

"Hmm?" she frowned, momentarily confused.

"How long before the transformation is complete?" he asked, nodding toward Major Lorne.

She shook her head, "I don't know. It could be a matter of days, it could be longer. Why?"

"I think," he started and nodding toward the two soldiers said, "for the sake of safety, I'd like to post those guards on the isolation room – if that's all right with you."

"He's unconscious, Mister Woolsey," she said with another sigh.

"For now, yes," he agreed, "but what happens when he wakes up?"

**

Smoke curled skyward from another of the ruined buildings and the sound of weeping interrupted the nightly singing of the insects that lived among the trees and bushes of the village. For the third night since the disappearance of the murderess, Lisstha, the Haradia had come with their weapons and with fire to destroy the buildings and force the villagers to flee the solid protection they afforded.

Remnants of families wandered aimlessly among the ruins, searching for possessions or for family members they feared taken by the Haradian men that had come in force to take their youth and the promise of their future.

"Damn her!" one of the village husbands, clinging tightly to what was left of his family, spat into the dirt where those who had so far survived injury gathered to discuss what they might do in their defence. "She brought this on us."

"And she is gone," one of the remaining elders shook his head, "it serves us little cursing her existence. We must decide what we should do now. We have tried fighting the Haradians, and we have tried offering them no resistance. The outcome is the same. It seems they wish to reduce us to ruin."

"And then what?" one of the women sobbed. "The menfolk all hurt, the young men and women taken... what will become of us?"

"I do not think we have a choice," Ynek spoke up, holding his infant daughter close, "We must take a chance on what Miran said, and use the mystical box to send for help against the Haradians."

"Miran is dead," the elder pointed out to him, "And the secret of which of the symbols would summon this help is gone from us."

"Not so," Ynek admitted quietly. "Before he came to you all with the news of his visitation, he came to me and told me of it. I tried to dissuade him from speaking, but he was unswayed – and it has cost him his life. As his friend, I must honour his memory, and if his mad visions can bring us even a little hope against our destruction, I say we follow his advice… and do as he urged us.

"But what if—"

"The time for 'what if' has passed, Elder Gramm," he said respectfully. "I believe it is the only way."

"And you will do this?" The elder asked, nodding slightly. "It will be a risk. To do so you must travel toward the Haradians."

"I know." He sighed, and handed his child to one of the others, before taking from his pouch the small box that had once belonged to Miran. "But I believe we have no choice."

"Then go with our blessing, Ynek, in this desperate hour… and let us hope that Miran's angel was just that… and not some demon to lead us astray."

"What can be worse than that which we now suffer?" Ynek asked softly, before he turned and made his way out into the darkness, toward where the Ring of the Ancestors stood.

**

Halling looked up from sharpening his weapon as the flap that made the doorway of his hastily constructed home rustled and then lifted aside. Jinto entered, looking behind him as though he was suddenly afraid of the night.

"I did it, father," he said. "Marida's mother said that she will pass the word. The men and fighting women will gather at the central fire as soon as the homes are completed."

"Thank you, Jinto. You are a good son to me."

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"May I go with you?"

Halling shook his head, "You are among the few I would trust to stay and defend the village, my son. I cannot allow you to come."

"You do not think me capable—" Jinto began to argue.

"On the contrary," Halling said quietly, smiling at his son proudly, "if there were no need to protect those we leave behind, I would gladly have you at my side, and Teyla also would be happy to have been delivered by Jinto, son of Halling, but there are those too young to travel with us, and some with child – and we are so few in number that we must protect them all. So I will call upon you to stay and guard them."

Jinto sighed, and threw himself into his seat beside the fire. "I suppose," he said, sulkily. "Perhaps we should have stayed with Colonel Sheppard. Then I could have fought at your side."

"No, my son," Halling reached over and ruffled his hair, "it is time for the Athosian people to decide their own destiny and not to blindly follow those that walk in the place of the Ancestors without their wisdom."

"When will you leave?" Jinto asked, leaning against his father a little. "And where will you go to begin the search for her? How will you find where Michael has her captive?"

"Tonight, I do not know," Halling answered, "but in the morning, I will trust what comes to me as I sleep. It is what Teyla would do."

Jinto nodded, and then added, "And I will keep the village safe for when you all return."

"I know you will, my son," Halling cupped his son's face between the palms of his hands, and lowered his forehead to Jinto's. "I know."

**

Sheppard leaned against the desk, arms folded, listening again to the message that had come into Atlantis from the relay station.

"…and we need your help. They come nightly… destroy our homes, take our children, our youths… please… if you can hear us… we need your help."

"It has to be some kind of trap," McKay said, frowning deeply, "I mean… how would they know – M3X-667 – we've never had any contact with them, not even the Athosians as far as I recall."

"That is the relay station we told Todd to use to contact us." Ronon nodded agreement with McKay.

"For all we know they could be a bunch of Wraith worshippers just waiting to sell us out to the highest bidder, and by that I mean…" McKay made a sucking motion with his hand slightly outstretched.

Sheppard shook his head, "I can't explain it," he said, "But something about this feels… genuine…"

"Why?" Woolsey asked, clearly still angry from everything he'd discovered, "I have to admit I rather agree with Doctor McKay, as strange as that might sound."

"Thanks," McKay said sarcastically.

"Because…" Sheppard began, not even sure of what he was about to say. "… I mean… if they'd have said it was the Wraith that were attacking, sure, I would agree too, but they don't. They're under attack by another bunch of people, what do they call them?"

"Haradians," McKay supplied the answer and then looked over toward Ronon. "Anything?"

Ronon shook his head, "No one I've ever heard of," he said.

"Look," Sheppard cut the air with the side of his hand. "Who they are, and what their agenda, is irrelevant. They know we're here and they've asked for our help. So we should—"

"I disagree," Woolsey said.

"There's a surprise," Sheppard said sarcastically. He turned to Woolsey. "We have a certain responsibility to the people of this galaxy and—"

"While we're standing around here arguing about it," McKay cut in, sighing, "nothing is getting done, either here or elsewhere. There has to be some way we can find out more without committing ourselves too deeply."

"What do you suggest, Doctor?" Woolsey asked.

"What if we send in a small reconnaissance team, while we," he indicated himself, Ronon and Sheppard, "contact some of the people we know to see if they can tell us more about the Haradians."

Sheppard pointed at Rodney, nodding. "I can go with that," he raised an eyebrow at Woolsey in question.

Woolsey sighed. "Very well, but I want to note for the record that I'm not entirely happy about it."

"Noted," Sheppard said, sarcastically, "and for what it's worth—"

"It's worth very little, Colonel Sheppard," Woolsey said before he could even finish the sentence, "Nothing that anyone has said today has changed my opinion in the slightest on what our priorities here should be. I'll be in my quarters when you find something."

Sheppard sighed as he watched the man leave. "God!" he exploded once Woolsey was out of sight.

"Well you have undermined his authority in just about everything today," McKay said with a shrug. "How do you expect him to behave?"

"You think this has something to do with Michael, don't you?" Ronon asked, preventing Sheppard from answering that he expected Woolsey to pass the stick that was currently up his ass and start behaving like someone who could command the Atlantis expedition sensibly.

"I can't explain it," Sheppard answered. "But there's something about this whole thing—"

"Or maybe you're seeing what you want to see," McKay said, with a tone of regret. "Much as I hate to say this, we have to consider the possibility that we might never catch up to Michael, and find Teyla."

"No," Sheppard said vehemently. "I refuse to accept that." Without another word, he slapped Ronon's arm and indicated the gate room with his head.

**

The commander of Bravo team straightened from his firing position as the last of the aggressors fled from the village.

"Bravo team, stand down," he ordered and watched as the rest of his men lowered their P90s and looked around them.

Slowly… timidly, from within the remains of the houses came movement as the villagers began to show themselves.

"Ynek," the commander called softly, "We're looking for Ynek. You called for us…"

One of the shadows moved and resolved itself into a grizzled looking man who had obviously seen battle in recent days. His shoulder was bandaged, and an open wound on the side of his chin was reddening with the promise of infection.

"I am Ynek," he said. "You are those who came from beyond the Ancestors' Ring?"

"We heard your call for help, yes. I'm Captain Warsh. The leaders of my expedition sent me here to find more information, so that we can assess how best to help you."

"Well, you have seen first hand what we face, as I described with the mystic box," Ynek said. "Those men come nightly to drive us from what little protection our shelters afford us; to punish us for not sending to them the one chosen by the Hag."

"I think maybe you'd better start at the beginning," Warsh said quietly. "You were supposed to send someone to them? Who are these people?"

**

"I'm not asking for more than two or three men at most," Sheppard tried very hard not to raise his voice as Woolsey once again denied his request.

"The settlement is unprotected," Sheppard ran a hand through his hair and spun around to face the base commander. He was certain he was being deliberately difficult in order to make a point, only he couldn't figure out just what that point might be.

"You said that Halling's son, and some of his companions remained behind to defend the settlement."

"He's a child," Sheppard moaned, through clenched teeth.

"My understanding is that Jinto is more than capable," Woolsey countered, and went on to add, "besides which, as I have already pointed out, our priorities now must lie with the defence of this base from the very real threats that exist in this galaxy."

"Threats that aren't going to leave the Athosians alone just because they try to distance themselves from your prejudice and the prejudice of men like you!"

"There's no need to get personal, Colonel," Woolsey said, "I'm certain that Jinto knows how to contact us, should the need arise."

"Should the need arise, it will already be too la—"

The Gate activation alarm cut Sheppard off mid-word and after another moment or two of treating Woolsey to a look that would have withered many a man in his tracks, but failed entirely to even penetrate the shield of ignorance surrounding the new base commander, followed the other man from the briefing room to the control room, where the gate technician was already checking for the presence of an IDC.

"It's Captain Warsh's team," he announced.

"Lower the shield," Woolsey commanded. "Let's see what the Captain managed to discover about our mysterious cry for help."

Woolsey treated Sheppard to a look of smug sarcasm before he turned to look out over the balcony and down into the Gate Room. As he did so, the self satisfied look faded from his face, to be replaced by a shocked expression of disbelief. The four man team of marines stepped from the event horizon, and then turned to usher the first of a ragged and somewhat dirty group of refugees, mainly older men and women, into the rapidly filling Gate Room.

"This is kind of familiar," Sheppard said almost cheerily as he watched the newcomers looking around them, awe and more than a little fear showing on their faces.

"What… what is the meaning of this?" Woolsey demanded as he stepped closer to the railing to address Captain Warsh.

"That wasn't very diplomatic," Sheppard said, heading for the stairs down to the floor, merely a step or two ahead of Woolsey.

"Captain Warsh?" Woolsey persisted in trying to get a report from the commander of Bravo team.

"Mister Woolsey," Warsh said urgently, "Colonel… I know this isn't exactly protocol, but I didn't feel I had any choice."

"Go on?" Sheppard prompted, feeling more than a little satisfied with the way this had begun to play out.

Warsh nodded, and to both men, ushering one of the refugees to come forward, said, "This is Ynek. I really think you need to hear what he has to say."