Storytime with Rachel F Hundred

Marshall held to the belief that turning up at a meeting to find not only your own commanding officer but his commanding officer too was never a good sign.

“Generals,” he saluted smartly.

“Colonel Sumner,” General George Hammond greeted him warmly.

“At ease, Marshall, before you sprain something,” Jack O’Neill hadn’t lost his irreverence with his promotion. He stood by his new desk in his usual green fatigues.

O’Neill’s office chair was filled with the stout form of Hammond who was dressed in his usual service blues and looked as though he had never left the SGC.

In many ways, Marshall wished that he hadn’t but he knew the changes were necessary after Anubis’ attack on Earth. Hammond was respected by the President and his new position as Head of Homeworld gave them someone in Washington D.C. who would fight for them. Jack wasn’t a bad choice either to take over the SGC. He’d been Hammond’s second-in-command for years. He knew what it was like to be in the field and he was actually a good administrator for all he’d deny it.

Marshall altered his stance and looked at Jack expectantly. He figured he was about to receive new orders rather than returning to the Beta site. Since his recall the day before, he had sat through a very long debriefing which had felt like a final review.

Jack sighed. He picked up a pale blue folder on the desk and handed it to Marshall. “We have a….a proposition for you; an opportunity, if you will.”

Marshall raised his eyebrows a touch. His gaze dropped to the folder and he had to fight to keep the grimace off his face at the sight of the logo chosen by the International Oversight Advisory.

“Yes,” drawled Jack, “that’s what I’d thought you’d say.” He threw a look to Hammond.

“Take a seat, Colonel,” Hammond said with a warm Texan smile which gave away that it was an order.

Marshall took a seat and started to flip through the folder. “You want me on the Atlantis gig.”

He’d heard the buzz in the mess about Jackson finding the address in the chair database down in Antarctica. A man didn’t need to be a genius to put two and two together.

Jack pointed two fingers at him. “That.”

Hammond kept his eyes on Marshall. “It is a voluntary assignment, Colonel, given the situation with the Prometheus and the possibility that the Atlantis gate may not have power to dial Earth.”

Marshall nodded and set the folder back on the desk.

“We need an experienced military commander,” Hammond continued, “and you’ve set up two Alpha sites and the current Beta site. You know what it takes to establish a holding post on another planet.”

“Plus the brass has decided the Marines will be the primary service for the Atlantis gig and you are a Marine Colonel,” Jack added, rocking back on his heels a touch.

That made sense.

Marines were trained for ground combat. It had been a shock when he’d entered the programme to realise the SGC was mostly staffed for planetary exploration from the Air Force.

“What’s the bad news?” asked Marshall bluntly.

“It has been agreed that the IOA will be the primary organisation leading the Atlantis mission,” Hammond did not sugarcoat it, leaning forward, hands clasped on top of the desk.

Marshall grimaced. “Which means working with a civilian leadership, correct?”

Hammond nodded. “Doctor Weir has been appointed.”

Marshall repressed the urge to run his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’m sure it was reported that she and I didn’t particularly click when she was in charge of the SGC.”

“It was a testing time for everyone,” Hammond said diplomatically. “The truth is that we need someone in charge of the military who can go toe-to-toe with Doctor Weir and challenge her when necessary. The draft Charter states that the military contingent will not report directly to the expedition leader but to the SGC. We’re effectively subcontracted for security.”

“We need someone in charge who can operate independently,” Jack added. “The plan is to use the ‘gate to dial Atlantis. We have no idea if there will be power to dial back to Earth on the other side. We’re a good eight months to a year away from having the Prometheus ready to travel that distance given the beating it took. There is a very good chance that the expedition will be alone for an extended period of time and have to rely on its own resources.”

Marshall nodded. “I see.”

“There is another complication,” Jack said bluntly. He reached down and plucked another file from underneath a stack on his desk. He opened it and handed it to Marshall.

Marshall froze at the sight of the photo attached to the personnel jacket he’d just been handed. Nothing like seeing a ghost from the past, he thought wryly, mentally shaking off his shock. There were black bars over much of the actual information but that wasn’t a surprise to him.

“Seven days ago, Major John Sheppard became the most valuable asset in this galaxy,” Hammond said crisply. “He has the strongest expression of the Ancient Technology Activation gene of any we have recorded to date.”

“You know him,” Jack said confidently.

Marshall looked up from the file into Jack’s knowing gaze. “Not officially.”

Jack smirked. “Unofficially, he and his team plucked your team’s asses out of the fire just before you were transferred to the SGC. It was one of his first missions apparently.”

In fact, Marshall knew it had been the first mission John Sheppard had undertaken post assignment to Special Ops, but that mission was classified for a very good reason and Marshall had no inclination to talk about it. He and the five men with him owed their lives to Sheppard and the others in his team.

He flipped to the last page, scanned the pages before which were all blacked out, and frowned. “Why was he at McMurdo?”

“Politics,” Jack said succinctly.

Hammond gave a barely audible sigh. “Three years ago, he lost his Special Ops team due to poor intelligence,” he said crisply. “He was reassigned into a frontline SAR posting in Afghanistan. Last year, he went against orders to rescue a downed team. His helicopter was shot down in the attempt, but he still made it back to base on foot with the only survivor. Unfortunately, Captain Holland later died on the operating table.”

“Holland…” Marshall considered the name for a long moment and Jack’s remark. “Senator Charlotte Holland?”

“His mother,” Hammond acknowledged. “She went to bat for Sheppard and his lawyer did an outstanding investigative job. She proved that conditions to go after the team were favourable at the time he was ordered back to base.”

“The lawyer also proved that Sheppard had PTSD and should have been reassigned Stateside after the loss of his team, not to a combat posting,” Jack added. “Sheppard got a jacket reprimand for disobeying orders and was sent to McMurdo to literally cool off.”

Marshall frowned because he knew they would both expect him to be irritated at the disobedience. He couldn’t be too irritated because Sheppard had saved his team under similar circumstances and done some incredibly fancy flying to get them home.

He closed the file and set it on the desk. “I assume he’s slated for Atlantis?”

“Not exactly,” Jack muttered.

Hammond cleared his throat. “The Joint Chiefs have signed off on him being transferred to the Stargate programme, but not the Atlantis mission. However, Doctor Weir is keen to have him as part of the scientific contingent. He’s currently on an indefinite leave while they determine his assignment.”

“They want him on Earth in case he needs to sit in the chair,” Marshall surmised.

“That’s part of it,” Jack said.

Marshall frowned as Hammond’s full comment registered. “Doctor Weir wants him in the scientific part of the expedition?”

“According to her, his primary function would be as a light-switch to aide the scientific discovery process,” Jack said in a lilting mocking tone which gave away how terrible he thought the idea was without actually saying it.

“Your plan?” asked Marshall.

“Fold him into the chain of command,” Jack said promptly. “There was mention in the outpost inventory of flight capable spaceships which travel through the ‘gate. He’d be the best candidate for a wing commander.”

“Although we should keep in mind that Doctor Weir has already indicated that she’s expecting a light command structure,” Hammond said dryly.

Marshall pressed his lips together. “How soon do the Joint Chiefs expect to make a decision on his availability to the Atlantis mission?”

“I suspect that it’ll go right to the wire,” Hammond admitted.

Which meant that it was likely someone had irritated the hell out of them.

“What did Weir do?” he asked bluntly.

Jack shot Hammond a look which said Hammond should answer.

“Doctor Weir originally omitted to inform Major Sheppard that the Atlantis trip is completely voluntary,” Hammond said grimly.

“You know and I know that we’d never leave a team stranded in another galaxy,” Jack said, “but she presented it to him like his assignment was already a done thing as soon as he transferred and that he had no choice. She said she was just over eager and didn’t realise how she’d phrased it.”

“What is his choice?” asked Marshall.

Jack sighed. “I managed to talk with him before I left McMurdo. He’s interested in going to Atlantis because he understands the importance of the mission to our security, but if he goes, he goes as part of the military team.”

Which meant Sheppard had insisted on his military service being recognised. Marshall could understand and appreciate that, and it aligned with what he had known of the young brash pilot who’d rescued him.

Marshall tapped his fingers thoughtfully against the arm of the chair. “Could we argue for the leave to be revoked and for him to report to the SGC for training until his assignment is determined?”

“Weir insisted that he be placed on leave until the decision so as to not sway his decision,” Jack parroted the words sourly.

“Why are we letting her set the rules?” asked Marshall sharply. “She has no right to dictate the assignment of a United States Air Force Major and to allow her that freedom now sets a bad precedent.”

Hammond glanced up at Jack who shrugged.

“You already know how I feel about it,” Jack said.

“I’ll talk with General Maynard again,” Hammond replied. “Whatever the decision in respect of Major Sheppard’s Atlantis assignment, he does need training.”

Marshall nodded, satisfied.

“What’s your decision, Colonel?” Hammond leaned forward. “In or out?”

He considered the question seriously.

Politics. Weir. On the one hand, it had all the hallmarks of a potential clusterfuck.

On the other…it was Atlantis. It was a vitally important mission for the defence of Earth. He had no close relatives to worry about his absence and his close friends were all in the service and would understand him going dark for a confidential mission. Moreover, he had never walked away from difficult situations just because they might be difficult.

He met Hammond’s eyes. “In.”

o-O-o

Marshall’s office in the Antarctica complex was only a little bigger than a storage cupboard. It contained a plain wooden table acting as a desk, his comfortable ergonomically friendly desk chair, an uncomfortable metal contraption that folded up as a visitor’s chair, and an old-fashioned lockable grey filing cabinet which Marshall had thought were long extinct.

Even after a month of occupation, the room was a bland institutional grey box which still smelled a little like fresh paint.

Marshall had worked in worse places.

He looked up from his review of the Atlantis Charter (sixteenth revision but who was counting) and found Elizabeth Weir lurking in the open doorway.

“Doctor Weir,” Marshall did not rise as he would have for a senior officer. It was a small gesture to underscore the equality of their roles but he figured Weir kept seeing it as a lack of respect for her personally.

“Colonel, have you seen the email from General O’Neill this morning?” Weir asked as she entered. She stood in front of the desk with her arms folded over her zipped up uniform jacket.

Marshall wasn’t a fan of the uniform. He understood the need for a mission variant which brought together an international team, but he hated the design with its colour coded panels designating function. He figured someone had watched too much Star Trek. He had eschewed the uniform at the Antarctica outpost for the usual Marine cold weather gear. It had the benefit of keeping him warm because even the buildings held a chill.

“If you mean the email agreeing to my request to have Major Sheppard visit us so we can interrogate the database here about Atlantis, then yes,” Marshall said dryly.

Weir’s chestnut curls seemed to vibrate as she visibly bristled. Her mouth pressed into a thin line. “Why wasn’t I informed that Major Sheppard had been recalled from leave?”

Marshall raised his eyebrows at her tone. “I wasn’t aware that the Air Force was obliged to inform you of the movements of its individual personnel, Doctor Weir.”

Weir’s fingers tightened on her arms. “Major Sheppard is a special case. I’m sure you’ll agree that he would be an invaluable addition to the expedition because of his genetic ability with Atlantean technology. I expected to be informed when the Joint Chiefs made a determination on his assignment.”

Marshall hummed. “As far as I am aware the Pentagon is still running assessments on whether they can risk losing his skills and ability here on Earth.”

“In which case, why isn’t he still on leave?” Weir questioned sharply.

“Because he is currently assigned to the Stargate programme and needs training whichever way his decision may ultimately land,” Marshall let some of his exasperation seep through.  

“He needs training as a member of SG1?” Weir retorted.

Marshall met her hard gaze with an unrelenting one of his own. “If you want an explanation for that assignment, you should direct your query to General O’Neill.” Personally, he had no idea why O’Neill had assigned Carter as Sheppard’s training officer.

For a long moment they simply glared at each other.

Weir suddenly took a deep breath and visibly regrouped. “Colonel, you and I need to work as a team. As the leader of our expedition, I expect to be informed if you become aware of anything which is relevant to ensuring the success of our mission.”

Marshall found himself blinking in shock at the audacity of the order. He cleared his throat. “Doctor Weir, do you believe that I’m in the habit of sharing confidential information with others who do not have clearance or authorisation?”

Her green eyes widened dramatically. “That is not what I meant.”

“Good,” Marshall said. He turned back to his laptop. “If that’s all?”

“Perhaps you’d like to join me in welcoming SG1 when they arrive,” Weir said tersely. “They’re expected to transport here at ten this morning.”

“I’ll be there,” Marshall said, keeping his eyes on the laptop.

He heard the huff she tried to hide as she left.

Marshall sighed as he set a reminder on his calendar. He pushed the confrontation out of his head and focused on his work. He had just finished sending off his latest comments when there was a rap on the door. He looked over and found Sergeant Bates stood just beyond the threshold in the corridor.

“Sergeant,” Marshall beckoned him inside.

Bates entered briskly. He looked every inch the consummate Marine; shaved dark hair, pristine uniform.

“I have the list you asked for, Colonel.” Bates handed over a folder. “All the confirmed military personnel for the Atlantis mission to date. I’ve highlighted the gaps.”

Marshall took the folder. He flipped through it and frowned. “We’re missing a catering rotation and we could do with more engineers.”

“Doctor Weir pushed back against more catering, sir,” Bates said mildly.

“I’ll talk with her,” Marshall murmured. He wasn’t looking forward to the discussion. Weir had some strange ideas about how to staff the expedition. It was almost as though she expected to land somewhere where all their needs would be instantly met.

“The engineers are more problematic,” Bates noted. “All those in the programme with the relevant skills have already been approached. We’d need to go outside for additional volunteers.”

“I’ll schedule a call with Hammond,” Marshall said. “Homeworld is anticipating replacing the people we are taking so there is a recruitment plan.”

“Sir,” Bates said in acknowledgement.

His computer chimed and Marshall glanced at it noting it was the reminder he’d set earlier.

“Walk with me, Bates,” Marshall said as he closed his laptop and made for the door. “SG1 is due to arrive.”

Bates fell in just behind him, closing the door on the office as he did so.

Marshall led the way through the complex to the reception area which had been designated the transportation room.

Weir was already there and she acknowledged them with a stiff nod. Carson Beckett was positioned on the far side of her and he greeted them with a warm smile which Marshall returned with a nod.

Marshall liked the Scottish geneticist although he held that the man did not have the right qualifications to be appointed Chief Medical Officer as Weir wanted. He’d pushed that whole debate into the lap of Doctor Brightman, the Head of Medicine for the Stargate programme. According to Brightman, Beckett still hadn’t signed onto the expedition because he had an ill parent to consider. Marshall was hopeful that Beckett’s own decision would come down on the side of staying and render the issue moot.

Marshall stood next to Weir on her empty side, although Bates stayed back a step.

The Air Force technician stationed in the far corner with the bulkiest computer set-up Marshall had seen in years looked up. “Prometheus is signalling they are ready to transport, ma’am.”

Weir breathed in and nodded. “Send them confirmation they can transport, Sergeant Mackenzie.”

Marshall automatically straightened his stance as the transport beam placed SG1 into the centre of the room.

Both Colonel Carter and Major Sheppard saluted at the sight of him and he returned it briskly. Teal’c bowed his head in greeting. Jackson ignored him in favour of glancing around the room.

Marshall’s attention remained on John Sheppard. He saw the recognition skate over the Major’s face before assuming a bland expression.

“Welcome back to Antarctica,” Weir said, warmth coating her words in a way that had never happened when she was speaking with Marshall.

“Thank you for receiving us, Doctor Weir,” Carter answered briskly.

“Major Sheppard,” Weir said brightly, “it’s good to see you again. I think you know everyone here except Colonel Sumner and Sergeant Bates?”

“Actually, the Major and I are acquainted,” Marshall offered with a nod in John’s direction. “It’s good to see you again, John.” He ignored Weir’s sharp intake of breath.

John relaxed his expression enough to offer a quirky smile. “You too, sir.”

Carter looked unreasonably amused by the exchange. “General O’Neill said you wanted to interrogate the database for intel on the Atlantis base and the Pegasus galaxy, sir?”

“Yes,” Marshall said, “I believe the more intel we have on what we might be facing out there the better.” He looked over at John. “I realise that means you spending quite a bit of time in the chair, Major.”

John nodded. “I agree it’s time well spent.”

Marshall gestured at Bates. “Sheppard, this is Sergeant Bates. He’s has been my right-hand on the last two off-world bases we set up.”

The two men nodded at each other.

“And how do you and Colonel Sumner know each other, Major?” Weir asked, inserting herself into the exchange.

Marshall turned to her, irritated that she had directed the question at John. He noted the flickering anger in her green eyes.

“I’m afraid that’s classified, ma’am,” John replied easily.

“I’m sure you’ll find that I have the appropriate clearances,” Weir pressed.

Marshall was suddenly so furious he couldn’t speak.

John simply raised an eyebrow at Weir. “I’m afraid that unless I receive confirmation of that through our chain of commands, neither Colonel Sumner nor I can speak about how we met.” His mild tone was a contrast to the anger Marshall was feeling.

Weir looked as though she was about to continue pushing when Jackson suddenly clapped his hands.

“We should make our way to the chair room and get started,” Jackson slid in before Weir could reply.

“Of course,” Weir said, visibly changing gear. “Rodney is waiting for you.”

“I’ll check in with you later,” Marshall said.

Bates cleared his throat lowly as SG1 made their way out of the room. Carson Beckett following hurriedly in their wake, catching up with John and talking about getting some baseline physical stats before they begun.

“With your permission, sir,” Bates said.

Marshall nodded briskly. “Dismissed.”

Bates came to attention, turned smartly, and left.

Weir hadn’t moved except to fold her arms and regard him with a furious glare.

Marshall saw the remaining technician trying to make himself as small as possible behind the computer. “Sergeant Mackenzie, take ten.”

“Sir,” he hurried from the room.

Marshall turned to face her and decided a good offence was the best way forward. “Doctor Weir, is it your intention to try to suborn members of the military into telling you confidential and classified information under the guise that your position gives you that privilege?”

Weir flushed a brilliant red under her discreet make-up. “Colonel…”

“My acquaintance with John Sheppard is not up for discussion,” Marshall said crisply. “We wouldn’t have even acknowledged each other if we hadn’t received clearance as of this morning that we are allowed to do so. Do you understand?”

Weir drew in a breath as though steadying herself. “I have the right to question how the military leader for the expedition and a key resource who would be invaluable to the expedition know each other, Colonel.”

“Not once you’ve been told its classified,” Marshall said crisply.

They glared at each other for a beat in a way which was becoming uncomfortably familiar.

Weir altered her stance, dropping her shoulders a touch, lowering her chin. It was deliberate and designed to make her look less defensive and more conciliatory. She did have a good reputation as a diplomat, Marshall acknowledged to himself, although she seemed less inclined to use her diplomacy skills with members of the military than anyone else.

“May I ask why you didn’t come to me regarding the need for more intelligence?” Weir asked, changing the subject.

Marshall’s eyebrows darted upward before he could contain his surprise. “I’ve requested it in our last five planning meetings. You informed me that all ATA gene resources were fully dedicated to other preparation tasks.”

Weir grimaced. “In future, I would like to make the decision on whether to approach the SGC with such a resource request.”

“No,” Marshall stated firmly.

Weir looked genuinely taken aback by his refusal. “Excuse me?”

“My reporting line is directly to Stargate Command and to General O’Neill,” Marshall stated briskly. “I have a duty to all the men and women who will serve with me on this mission. I will not put their lives at risk to satisfy your ego.”

She took a deep breath and shook her head. “How are we supposed to work together if you refuse to acknowledge my position holds any kind of authority?”

“I acknowledge the authority you hold over the civilian and scientific aspects of this expedition,” Marshall pointed out. “But your role does not give you any kind of command of the military assigned for the expedition’s protection and you keep assuming an authority you do not have with military assets and personnel.”

“It is important that we feel like one team,” Weir began.

“Granted,” Marshall agreed, “but that does not mean that you assume a leadership role and an authority you do not have. You have shown yourself repeatedly unwilling to listen to any reasonable opinion if it is said by a member of the military. You even question the actions of the Generals regularly despite verbally stating your respect for General O’Neill and General Hammond.” He held her gaze. “And that does not excuse your original mis-step with Major Sheppard. He deserved better than for you to assume his inclusion as though he had no choice in the matter.”

Weir winced. She sighed and rubbed her upper arms. “That was a mistake.”

He was glad to hear her admit it.

She was quiet for a long moment. She pressed her lips together and nodded slowly. “I believe fervently that the military needs civilian oversight and everything I’ve seen about the Stargate programme has reinforced that belief, Colonel. But I do respect the service and the sacrifice of the men and women in uniform including Major Sheppard, and I admit that in my…desire to establish my own authority here, I may have challenged the boundaries between our roles and positions.”

“We do need to work together,” Marshall conceded as relief began flooding through his veins at her admission, “you’re right about that, but if I can’t trust you to give any credence to the suggestions and opinions of myself and my team, I can’t see how we establish a good working relationship.”

“And so far, I haven’t proven willing to listen very much,” Weir sighed. She rubbed the side of her head. “I could talk about how your predecessor here in Antarctica was a stubborn ass, but…I admit I’ve left my encounters with Colonel Edwards influence me too much. I apologise.”

“I accept your apology,” Marshall said simply, “but I’m not going to apologise in return for finding a way around you to do my job and get Sheppard in that chair to give us more intel.”

Weir’s lips twitched. “It’s good for us to have more information before we leave, you’re right about that.” She turned and gestured for the door. “Shall we adjourn to my office and hammer out how we are going to make this work going forward?”

Marshall nodded calmly, even as his inner self did a victory dance. “That sounds like a plan.”

o-O-o

Being called into a meeting at short notice by the leader of SG1 was never a good sign, Marshall mused as he took his place next to Weir and glanced around.

The large conference room was the only one in the complex. Someone had tried to liven it up with posters of flags representing all the nations who had provided personnel to the Antarctica base, but it was still a grey box with a large oak table and over a dozen uncomfortable chairs.

Marshall watched as SG1 sat down almost in unison on the other side of the table.

A shaky looking Rodney McKay sat down beside John. He fidgeted with his tablet, staring at it constantly. John nudged some water in McKay’s direction and the scientist drank it without looking up.

Beckett slid into place beside Weir.

Marshall was about to clear his throat when General Hammond entered with Major Paul Davis at his heels. O’Neill followed with Richard Woolsey at his elbow.

Marshall sprang to his feet, noting John and Carter doing the same.

“At ease, people, please take your seats,” Hammond said as he sat next to Marshall.

O’Neill took the seat next to Carter on the other side of SG1 while Woolsey made his way around the table to sit next to Hammond.

Marshall suppressed the urge to frown, but it underscored the seriousness of whatever they’d found if Carter had called in the President’s IOA representative, Hammond and O’Neill.

Weir cleared her throat. “My apologies, gentlemen, I didn’t realise you’d been called, Generals, Mister Woolsey, or I would have greeted you at the transporter room.” She looked pointedly across the table.

Carter grimaced. “Apologies, I should have informed you that I requested they attend, Doctor Weir. Given the information we found, we thought it best to have everyone present.” She turned without waiting for Weir to Jackson. “Daniel?”

Jackson pushed his glasses up his nose as he looked across the table at them. “As everyone here is aware, Colonel Sumner asked for John to interrogate the database here for more information on Atlantis and the Pegasus galaxy as part of the preparations for the expedition.” He gestured across to Marshall. “The Colonel provided us with a list of questions which we followed for the most part with additional supplementary questions added as we uncovered more information.”

Jackson glanced at McKay who pressed a button on his tablet.

The monitor at the far end of the room bloomed into life with a picture of an ethereal city of spires.

Jackson got up and walked around to it. “Atlantis,” he confirmed. “The city is larger than New York, consisting of a central tower and a number of adjacent buildings. We confirmed some basic information first; square footage, purpose of buildings, a map, the details of the control room…we found this information relatively easily with John’s genetic connection.”

“You didn’t call us all in here for standard information about the city,” O’Neill said briskly.

“No, sir,” Carter confirmed. She nodded at Jackson.

Jackson tapped the monitor and another picture appeared. “The city is currently underwater. There’s a shield protecting it from the ocean.”

McKay waved at the monitor. “The Major was able to access an old data package between the outpost and Atlantis. The city must have had some kind of…some kind of automatic send function between Earth and Atlantis if there was a viable connection between the galaxies.”

Jackson nodded as he looked down the table. “I believe the last report was sent when the Ancients left Atlantis and returned to Earth” He waved his hands. “It details why they left Atlantis and the exact state of the city.”

“So, it’s underwater,” O’Neill honed in on the key information.

“They sank the city to hide it from an enemy,” John not very stealthily nudged McKay.

The monitor filled with images of a lizard like humanoid with white straggly hair, bad teeth, and strange markings.

A shiver went down Marshall’s spine. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He didn’t need the warning. His gut was already churning.

“My God,” muttered Beckett.

“This is a Wraith,” John stated. “This is the enemy which the Ancients abandoned Atlantis to escape.”

“They eat humans,” McKay bit out, his eyes a little wild. “They suck the life out of us!”

“They live in Hives and have queens with telepathic abilities,” Jackson added. “They overwhelmed the Ancients with sheer numbers.”

Weir shifted forward, placing her hands on the table. “Can they be reasoned with? Perhaps there is a diplomatic…”

“Do you ask the chicken on your plate whether it would like to be fried or baked?” McKay snapped. “They think of us as food!”

“The Ancients apparently did try to no avail,” Jackson replied, ignoring McKay’s outburst. He adjusted his glasses. “It resulted in entire ships and colonies being lost to the Wraith.”

“Do we know for certain that they’re still an issue?” Weir pressed.

“We can’t assume that they’re not still prevalent in the Pegasus galaxy,” Jackson replied. “They were clearly the dominant species at the time the Ancients returned to Earth.”

“This changes the threat assessment,” Hammond noted crisply. “We clearly need to take a step back and reassess the expedition and the preparations made thus far.”

“I agree,” Woolsey said, staring at the screen.

“That’s not our only problem,” John said tersely.

McKay grimaced and tapped his tablet again.

The monitor filled with data which Marshall couldn’t make any sense of and he didn’t think he was the only one given the way O’Neill rolled his eyes and turned to Carter.

“Based on the power consumption data, Atlantis will be running out of power to maintain its shield,” Carter reported briskly. “We estimate that there is less than three months of power left.”

Marshall understood immediately. “So, if we don’t go soon, the shield will collapse and the city will be completely overrun by the ocean.” He clasped his hands on top of the table. “If we kept to our current timeline, we would be cutting it close.”

Carter nodded. “If we are to gain access to the technology Atlantis holds, we have to accelerate our plans.”

“We can do that,” Weir said confidently.

McKay stared at her in disbelief. “Did you not understand the life-sucking aliens part?” He threw both his hands out towards the monitor.

“The man has a point,” O’Neill gestured with the pen he held. “This entire mission needs to be retooled.”

“I disagree,” Weir said calmly, looking back at O’Neill evenly.

Marshall mentally waved goodbye to the truce he and Weir had managed over the past few hours. He turned to Hammond. “I agree with General O’Neill, sir. Our entire approach needs to be reconsidered.”

Weir frowned heavily at him as he turned back in her direction. “I don’t see how this changes our decision. We’re more informed certainly of the risks and we can make better informed preparations, but our mandate is to get there and explore, is it not?”

“Perhaps that’s true, Doctor Weir,” Beckett piped up, “but at the very least these new risks need to be shared with those who have volunteered to go. People need to know about these Wraith and have the opportunity to reconsider their decision. I’m afraid my answer now will be a definite no; I cannae take the risk of walking into such danger given my mother’s health.”

Weir grimaced, but she nodded.

Woolsey stood up before Weir could say anything further. “My recommendation to the IOA will be to do a full review of this new information and consider the right path forward.” He looked over the table at SG1. “I’d like options prepared for discussion within the next forty-eight hours.”

Carter glanced at O’Neill who nodded. She looked back to Woolsey. “Yes, sir.”

“Surely it should be my team who pulls together those options, Richard?” Weir got to her feet.

Woolsey frowned at her. “I’m certain Colonel Carter will consult with you and your team as needed, Doctor Weir, but I’d like an independent assessment of the options.”

“I see,” Weir said.

“I’ll inform the President of these latest developments,” Hammond said. He swept his gaze over the table. “Good job on finding this information, people. It is best we find out now rather than get surprised by it when we get there.”

The meeting disbanded and Marshall found himself standing behind the table with a despondent Weir.

“Well, congratulations,” Weir said dryly. “You’ve won.”

Marshall lifted one eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You and I both know that the military will now take lead on the expedition given the information about the Wraith,” Weir stated bitterly. She tilted her head. “How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Marshall said brusquely. “But I do believe in doing a thorough risk assessment. We’ve lost people because we charged into planets and situations where we did not have all the information.”

Weir sighed and looked over at the monitor which had turned dark without McKay’s tablet linked to it. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

“Look,” Marshall said, “does this change how we need to approach the expedition? Yes, because we know more about what we’re facing. But Atlantis is still a critical mission. That hasn’t changed.”

Weir regarded him for a long moment. “Alright, Colonel. How would you suggest we change things?”

Marshall picked up his laptop. “Well, the first thing I’m going to suggest is finding SG1 and getting some input on the options they’re formulating. I don’t know about you, but I would prefer to be included in any discussion.”

Weir hummed. She picked up her own discarded tablet. “That sounds good to me.”

Marshall led the way out of the room and froze in the corridor.

Weir looked at him inquisitively.

“Do you have any idea where they went?” Marshall asked bluntly.

He wasn’t surprised when she laughed and shook her head.

o-O-o

Marshall adjusted the position of his gun and looked down the ramp at the gathered Atlantis expedition. There were fifty people in total headed for Atlantis. The mix skewed towards the military since the expedition was essentially acting as a forward scout unit, but there was a good number of civilian scientists who had volunteered to support, including a small medical team. They were all crowded into the gate room, arranged into the order they’d rehearsed, chattering away and creating a buzz of noise that filled the room.

At the bottom of the ramp, a nervous Rodney McKay hovered beside John. The two men had struck up a friendship in the eight weeks they’d taken to rearrange and prepare for the expedition. Marshall couldn’t claim to understand it, but he was grateful John was somehow able to wrangle their chief scientist. Behind them, Doctor Alicia Biro was positioned with Bates, Doctor Zelenka, and Captain Anne Teldy.

Beside him, Elizabeth took a deep breath.

“Nervous?” Marshall asked quietly.

Elizabeth shot him a wry look. “Like you aren’t.”

They’d managed to carve out a good working relationship over the past weeks and Marshall hoped it would withstand whatever Atlantis threw at them.

Marshall held up a hand and the chatter gradually fell away into silence. “Thank you. We are about to attempt to dial Atlantis. Before we do, I want to thank each and everyone of you for volunteering for this mission. Our objective is clear; we are there to assess the full situation in Pegasus, secure Atlantis, and start our exploration of the city in search of technology which will aide Earth in its ongoing fight against the Goa’uld.” He turned to Elizabeth.

She smiled at him. “We’ve rehearsed this. We know our roles and our immediate next steps if we get the go ahead. We can do this. I have faith in each and every one of us.” She looked around the room and nodded as they all returned her own nervous smile with equally nervous smiles of their own.

Marshall looked upward to the control room where O’Neill and Jackson stood watching. He raised his hand and walked back down the ramp, ending up next to John.

“You think we’re really ready for this, sir?” asked John under his breath as the Stargate began to dial.

“No, but I trust you have my back,” Marshall said simply.

John’s lips twitched. “You save someone’s life one time…”

“And you still can’t tell me anything about it?” asked Elizabeth teasingly.

“No,” answered Marshall and John cheerfully in unison.

Rodney huffed beside them and suddenly went still as the last chevron locked. “Here we go.”

The wormhole blossomed outward in a rush before settling into a puddle of shimmering blue.

The MALP trundled up the ramp and into the wormhole.

Marshall glanced up at the control room.

O’Neill looked up from the monitor and nodded. “Atlantis Expedition, you have a go. Good luck.”

Marshall straightened his shoulders, his fingers tightened around his weapon as he started back up the ramp, John on one side and Weir on the other, Rodney beside John. They paused for a moment in front of the wormhole.

He looked into the shining event horizon with renewed awe and took a breath. “See you on the other side.”

He stepped into the wormhole, and one heart-stopping dizzying moment later, he stepped out and into the lost city of the Ancients.

fin.

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