Amy Griswold - The Lost

“So what did we find out?” Woolsey asked, coming down the stairs behind her. He looked a bit relieved, too. They were all pretty twitchy at the moment.

“Basically the Stargate is sitting in the middle of a big open field,” Lorne said. “Just a big, flat grass plain, with what looks like a river and some trees way off to the north. No sign of a road. The good news is, you could see anybody coming for miles.”

Ronon nodded shortly. “What’s the bad news?”

“Anybody could see you coming for miles. If we were thinking about setting up an ambush, we’re going to need to take a cloaked jumper through.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Woolsey said. “Major Lorne, I’d like you to take a jumper and provide some backup, just as a precaution.”

Jennifer glanced at Ronon, suspecting he’d argue it wasn’t necessary, but he didn’t. He did hesitate for a moment, as if not sure whether Lorne expected to take charge of the mission. Jennifer wasn’t sure exactly how chain of command applied to the current situation; Ronon was a civilian acting on Woolsey’s orders, but Sheppard and by extension Lorne were supposed to be in charge in military situations, and if this wasn’t a military situation, she wasn’t sure what was.

“Let’s do this,” Ronon said when Lorne didn’t make any move to step in.

“I’m on my way,” Lorne said promptly, and headed for the jumper bay.

Jennifer shouldered her pack. “Let’s do this.”

“I’ll contact Todd once you’ve gone through,” Woolsey said. “Don’t hesitate to dial the gate if you have problems.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ronon said. Jennifer wasn’t sure exactly which way Ronon meant that, but the gate was already boiling blue, and Lorne’s jumper was descending in front of them. The event horizon rippled as it passed through ahead of them.

She and Ronon followed cautiously. She was very aware of the unfamiliar weight of the pistol in her thigh holster. She’d hesitated before putting it on, but there had seemed like too many ways this could go wrong. Just wearing the pistol didn’t mean she was going to have to use it.

She still wasn’t used to the tug of the wormhole, even after who knew how many trips through the Stargate in the last two years. It felt like being tumbled through cold air, like being on the carnival rides at the state fair when she was a kid with the world whipping by in streaks of color. She’d usually been too breathless to scream.

They stepped out into a warm afternoon. The grassy field stretched out in all directions, although in the distance she could see a smudge of trees on the horizon and what might be the distant gleam of water. Lorne must have already cloaked the jumper; she wished she knew where the jumper was, but it was probably better if she didn’t. It meant she couldn’t give its position away with an unguarded glance upwards.

Ronon turned a circle, his pistol drawn, before seeming to decide that they weren’t yet surrounded by Wraith.

“What now?” she asked.

“Now we wait,” he said. He backed up from the gate and lowered his pistol at it. Jennifer thought about drawing her own and decided that the situation wasn’t that dire yet. She tried to look like she was totally confident about dealing with the Wraith.

They didn’t have to wait long. Almost at once, the gate’s chevrons lit as it activated. Jennifer braced herself, ready to move fast if she had to.

Instead of Wraith, what emerged through the gate was a small floating device of some kind, roughly spherical and gleaming metallic in the sunlight. It hung in the air, rotating all the way around its axis, and then darted toward them.

Ronon aimed his pistol in one easy motion, looking like he was about to shoot the thing out of the air. Jennifer caught his arm. “I think it’s a probe,” she said. “We did send a MALP.”

“I know what it is,” Ronon said. He didn’t lower his pistol, but he didn’t shoot, either. He glanced down at her hand on his arm. “Don’t do that.”

Jennifer let go. “I just think that if we shoot the probe, it’s going to make them think twice about going through with this meeting.”

She half-expected Ronon to say that would be fine with him, but he let out a frustrated breath instead. “They’d better know something about where McKay is.”

“Well, I hope so, too,” Jennifer said. “Obviously. But we’re probably not going to find out if you shoot that thing.”

Ronon lowered his pistol to the side and spread his free hand with a little smile that didn’t actually make him look less threatening. “I know you can hear us,” he said to the probe. “We haven’t got all day.”

The event horizon rippled, and two Wraith walked through into the grass between them and the gate. One of them was all too familiar. She’d gotten used to looking at Todd through the blur of the stasis field. At close range without the field between them, she had to fight not to twitch as he strode toward them.

He and his companion stopped with a good ten feet still between them, well out of arm’s reach if not out of reach of a flying tackle. She hoped no one was about to tackle anyone else. “Ronon Dex,” he said, his rusty voice rising over the rustle of the tall grass. “Dr. Keller.”

“That’s us,” Ronon said. He didn’t like to use the names Sheppard had given the Wraith, Jennifer had already noticed. Then again, they weren’t their real names, if they had real names, so she wasn’t sure using them won them any points for being polite.

“Thank you for meeting with us,” Jennifer said.

Todd inclined his head slightly to her. She wished she knew exactly what that meant. “As you see, I am practically defenseless. This is neutral ground, by long tradition. You may put your weapon away.” His eyes flickered to Ronon as he said it, but returned to Jennifer.

“Wraith tradition,” Ronon said, in a tone that made it clear exactly how much weight he gave that.

“Our traditions are older than yours, Satedan.”

“We’re all here to talk,” Jennifer said. She suspected that if Todd started insulting Sateda, things were going to go downhill fast, and they couldn’t afford that. Not when this might be the only way to help Rodney. “We have a problem, and we’re hoping we can give you a reason to help us with it.”

“I will be pleased to hear about your problems,” Todd said. “But first, you will send the cloaked Lantean ship you have brought with you back through the gate.”

Jennifer very deliberately didn’t look up. She tried not to let her eyes move at all. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.

“There’s no jumper,” Ronon said.

“You are wasting my time,” Todd said. “I will not spare you much more of it. You do not trust me enough not to have taken precautions. You will order your ship to return to Atlantis, visibly, or we have nothing to discuss.”

Jennifer glanced at Ronon, a moment before it occurred to her that it was probably as much of a tell as if she’d looked up. With reluctance written in every line of his body, Ronon thumbed on his radio headset. “They know you’re here,” he said. “I want you to decloak and go back through the gate. Tell Woolsey we’re getting ready to talk.”

“If you’re sure you know what you’re doing,” Lorne said.

“We’ll be fine,” Jennifer said into her own radio. Todd laid one hand seemingly idly over the top of the probe, and the wormhole cut off behind him. The probe sank slowly to the ground.

The jumper shimmered into visibility, and the gate began to activate behind them — not the symbols for Atlantis’s new location, Jennifer realized, having spent enough time since they arrived memorizing those. Of course Lorne wouldn’t chance letting Todd see the gate address for their new home. If he didn’t already know it.