Jo Graham: Homecoming

“We need Atlantis back in Pegasus,” Carter said. “I’m supposed to take the Hammond out on her first run, and then Steven Caldwell and I will alternate patrols with the Hammond and the Daedalus . I can’t begin to tell you how many times Steven says he’d have lost the ship if he hadn’t had Atlantis to return to. If we don’t have a base closer than eighteen days away, it’s going to make our job nearly impossible.”

“Your job?” Carson asked.

Carter gave him a hard look. “Defeating the Wraith. It’s not like we can afford to just forget about them.” She looked at Sheppard. “Or about the people who live there.”

Sheppard nodded, and there was a tone of respect in his voice he didn’t usually have for anyone in authority. “I know you’ll do your best.”

“That’s not the part that matters right now,” Carter said. She glanced toward the door. “It’s what happens in there. Since we lost the Korolev, we’ve been running on three functional starships. The George Hammond will make four, but there are no additional keels laid.”

Carson frowned. “What precisely does that mean?”

Carter’s eyes were grave. “It means there’s no money, doctor. With so many needs at home and a global economic crisis, construction on the next ship after the George Hammond has been suspended. The Russians aren’t in a hurry to replace the Korolev, either. Seven billion dollars, and she lasted less than two years in service? It doesn’t seem like a very good return on their investment. The Sun Tzu was badly damaged in the battle with the hive ship and still has to be salvaged, if she can be. Ariane’s Austerlitz class is still on the drawing board, and with our construction halted, that’s all of Earth’s spacecraft. It’s an incredibly expensive investment, and even the wealthiest nations are feeling the pinch.” She glanced back toward the conference room door. “At dinner last night Mr. Desai was making noises about Indian investment in a scientific vessel, but that’s further down the road than the Austerlitz , three to five years at best. We’re going to be alone out there.”

Sheppard’s brows knit. “More reason to take Atlantis home.”

“That’s what I think.” Carter put her head to the side. “But they don’t let me run the world.”

The conference room door opened again and General O’Neill slipped out, closing it carefully behind him. “Beckett. Carter.” His face changed when he saw Sheppard. “Sheppard, you’re out of uniform.”

“I realize the baby’s not regulation, sir,” Sheppard said, wincing as though he were ready for it.

“He’s asleep,” Carter whispered. “Don’t wake him up.”

“I see he’s asleep.” O’Neill bent down to take a closer look. Torren had his fist in his mouth, his plump face turned to the side against Sheppard’s chest. “Oh my goodness he’s big. He’s such a big boy. Aren’t you a big boy?”

Carson gave Sheppard a look of utter horror, while Carter seemed to be fighting another fit of laughter. She cleared her throat loudly. “Don’t you think we should take this conversation away from the door, sir?”

“Absolutely,” Carson agreed fervently.

Teyla smiled pleasantly as the IOA representatives reached for briefcases and jackets, gathering up their things to move on to the reception on the gateroom balcony that Mr. Woolsey had prepared for them, just some light hors d’oeuvres and cocktails in the fading sunset of a San Francisco evening. Though it was cool outside, Woolsey had assured her they would be warm enough with the addition of some heaters brought across the bay to make outdoor events more pleasant.

“A very informative presentation,” S.R. Desai said in his accented English. “You make your points with great lucidity.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Desai,” Teyla said politely.

“I wonder, have you trained as a diplomat in your place?” he asked. “Or did I understand that you are a soldier?”

“I am neither soldier nor diplomat,” Teyla replied. “In my own world I am a trader. I have represented my people for many years in matters of commerce, arranging the most advantageous sales of our goods on other worlds, and attempting to import the things we need at fair prices. We are a poor people, we Athosians, compared to many in the galaxy, and we have never been able to produce many of the medical or technical things that we use.”

Desai nodded gravely, his close cropped white hair in sharp contrast to his dark skin and dark eyes. “A very understandable circumstance.”

“This work is a change.” Teyla looked around the emptying conference room. “I was never trained to represent millions of people in matters of life and death.”

“And yet you are rising to it,” Desai said. “The world sometimes changes in unpredictable ways. Power shifts.” His eyes flicked to Shen Xiaoyi, who passed them with a sniff.

There was something to that, Teyla thought, some rivalry or bad feeling that she knew as yet too little of the history of their world to understand. There were so many stories, and she had only begun to scratch the surface of them. She could not yet put the pieces together as she did at home, all the nuances of politeness and shades of meaning that held deadly intention.

“Tell me,” Desai asked, “If your Atlantis were in the Pegasus Galaxy once more, would it be an open port?”

“I do not quite know what you mean by that,” Teyla replied. The others had almost all left the room. Presumably Mr. Woolsey had gone ahead to welcome people to the reception.

“Would ships of other nations be able to call there, other than only ships of the American military?”

“I would expect that all of our friends would be welcome at any time,” Teyla said. “The journey is hazardous, and we should never turn an ally from our door. At the moment, with the Sun Tzu badly damaged, only the American military possesses ships with the Asgard drive necessary to reach our galaxy.”

Desai’s eyes searched her face. “As it stands, yes. But no technological secret remains a secret forever. Once we know you are there, we will come. It is a matter of human nature.” He smiled, and it was not an unkind expression. “You must get your Mr. Woolsey to give you a book about the demarcation line set between Spain and Portugal at the Treaty of Tordesillas. And how well it worked.” He nodded to her gracefully. “I give you good evening.”

“Good evening, Mr. Desai.” Teyla reached back to pick up her laptop, letting him precede her from the room.

John and Sam were talking in the hallway, their heads bent together, and Teyla went to join them.

“Where is Torren?” she asked.

“General O’Neill has him,” Sam said. “Torren’s awake, so he took him to the reception.”

John shrugged. “It’s ok. It’s not like he’ll drop him off the balcony or something.”

“He’s a responsible person. Really,” Sam said, looking like the entire idea amused her tremendously. “How did the meeting go?”

Teyla spread her hands. “Truthfully, I do not know. They listened. At least most of them did. Mr. Nechayev did not, though he asked me at the break if I were married and if my husband were here.”

Sam rolled her eyes. “You know he’s hitting on you, right? And that you can punch him in the chops, IOA member or not?”

“I can handle Mr. Nechayev,” Teyla said. “Believe me, I have seen many like him when arranging trade agreements.”

“I’ll handle Nechayev,” John said with a dark look.

“John. There is no need for that,” she said, though she softened it with a smile. “And I thought you had said that you would have no part in the diplomacy, aside from the military briefing on the Wraith that Mr. Woolsey is having you give tomorrow morning before they leave.”