Day Sixty-One - Eighty -Eight

Colonel Caldwell's response to the fiasco is to heighten security. No one is to leave the ship alone at any time or go any further than one hundred yards. All expeditions to Ayse or N'vellesem have been denied in advance, which leaves John stuck on the Daedalus.

Life on-board settles into an uneasy routine. People buzz through the corridors, handling whatever make-work or research can be thrown at them, but they're beginning to resent the lock down. The only exception to the rule is those who volunteer to continue to excavate the port side hangar.

John notes the ambivalent feelings about his change; even with Carson's assurances, there is whispered gossip about him, some wonder if he's really who he says he is. And it's not that they don't trust him, per se, there's just a question and although no one doubts the answer to his face—the uncertainty is in their eyes when they think he's not looking, the curious glances, or the way that almost everyone goes out of their way to not touch him.

The Marines and Daedalus crew members aren't quite as thrown by the extraordinary turn of events, it's the civilians with too little to do that are main culprits in whispering ugly rumors. They begin to go out of their way to avoid him altogether, which suits John just fine.

He doesn't want to deal with any of the rumor and innuendo, so John runs. He's given up running in the ship, seeing people twist and contort to avoid contact hurts more than he'll ever give them the satisfaction of seeing.

John breaks Caldwell's sanctions and runs alone in the desert, sometimes north past the little graveyard that could have been his final resting place, occasionally towards N'vellesem, but never to the west, towards Ayse.

South leads to jagged hills, and rocks, and the shifting sand turns to hard, gravelly scrabble, perfect for running. John doesn't push Caldwell about the ban, and Caldwell doesn't call him on the running, because the only good thing to come out of the fiasco is a little peace. The scanners are still vigilant for Wraith-sign, but the other inhabitants of Dominat have left them alone for weeks.

John visits Evan occasionally, trying to time his visits for when he's not surrounded by other visitors, though it proves to be difficult as the affable Major is quite popular and well liked. After Lorne's released from the infirmary, it's almost impossible for John to find a moment when Evan's alone, and he just lets it go. The Major doesn't need his company.

It's equally difficult to catch Rodney alone; he and Shaaziya are thoroughly besotted with one another, and John wouldn't dream of asking Rodney to lose Shaaziya for a few hours. The change in her attitude whenever John is around is getting tiresome, and it makes him angry.

John's just a little angry with Elizabeth, too. She'd taken unilateral action and studied Dominat's most sacred texts despite the possibility of the consequences, and John's the one that paid the price for her decision. He goes out of his way to avoid socializing with her, but it's hardly noticed, she and Caldwell are spending more time together than might be construed as completely necessary for the two de facto leaders of their shipwrecked colony.

Détente all around.

Out of boredom, John thinks it's probably time to think about digging a well, and despite the fact that he'd told Rodney that he'd dug one, he's never located one himself. John's black Irish grandmother had dowsed it with a twisted coat hangar. He's already got enough trouble on board; he's not going to resort to improbable medieval witchcraft and add to his woes.

John checks Elizabeth's list on the mess hall door, but no one's mentioned finding or digging wells as a skill. Rodney could probably offer some interesting solution but John doesn't want to deal with Shaaziya. Hermiod is one of the few on board whose attitude hasn't been affected by his debacle in Ayse, so John consults with him; he's probably got an ace or two up his nonexistent sleeve. Hermiod easily finds a way to scan both the stars and the sand.

They locate a couple of possibilities, though none of them are particularly convenient. John's not looking forward to digging that deep to find that the water's not drinkable, which is the point of the whole exercise.

"Can't we just beam it out, when the engines are on?"

Hermiod gets a gleam in his eyes. "It is not a long term solution, but we may certainly test if it is potable in this manner."

"That's perfect. I'll have Caldwell add it to the list." Since the sub-lights are only run once a month, if a project requires extra power, it has to be added it to 'The List', and Elizabeth and Caldwell prioritize the requests based on their relative necessity.

John doesn't have very many people to turn to at the moment and Hermiod is a refreshing change from his isolation. "So, Hermiod, what have you been doing to keep busy?"

"Ah, that is an interesting question. I have been compiling the data gathered from the sensor readings."

"Oh, what have you come up with?"

"This planet has a wealth of mineralogical oddities. The gravity indicates there is a large percentage of an extremely heavy metal in the core, and we have located large deposits of Yttrium and Lutetium on or near the surface. I intend to obtain samples to determine the exact composition of the mantle, in conjunction with obtaining your water samples."

"Lutetium? Isn't that man made? Won't the Yttrium poison the water?"

"Perhaps on Earth the purest forms are created, but the planet appears duplicate the laboratory conditions and the inhabitants of this planet do not appear to have been affected by their presence."

"I guess that's good to know."

Hermiod gives John a long, flat stare. "Very good to know."

~*~

John pokes around the workshops, store rooms and computer databases, but the Daedalus isn't equipped for well-digging and John's engineering skills are slanted towards fast, powerful and airborne; a well is none of those things. John's pretty sure he knows where he can get the information and assistance he needs, but that avenue's been barred to him. It'll be a couple of weeks before the batteries are slated for recharge and the boredom is really killing him.

Deciding that détente isn't all that it's cracked up to be, John tracks Elizabeth down in the officer's mess one evening. She's watching the glorious sunset through the window, and he slides into a chair across from her.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Just going over some notes for the next town meeting."

"How's that going?"

"It's difficult, I don't want to crush their hopes of getting rescued, but we have a boatload of people that are bored stiff. Any plans we make towards integration might threaten the precarious peace, and Steven's reluctant to attempt to reengage."

"Uh huh. Yeah, about that."

Elizabeth's holding back a smile, but her eyes are laughing. "Yes?"

John leans forward, his voice earnest and pleading. "I could really use some help from someone who's dug a well, and I was thinking of heading over to N'vellesem, check in with our old buddy Anbur."

"I wondered how long it was going to take. I certainly don't have any objection, Steven's the one you'll have to convince. I haven't been able to."

He sighs, unsurprised that Elizabeth knows him well enough to expect this. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

"Did you expect anything else?"

"No, not really." John stands and leans on the chair as he pushes it under the table. "See you later."

Caldwell haunts the bridge like Faulkenburg, with nowhere to go on the seas of sand. He's wearing away a few more microns off the deck, when John approaches him. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Sheppard, what can I do for you?"

"Let's take a walk."

Caldwell gives John a curious look, but follows him off the bridge.

John leads him to the conference room, and motions for him to sit. Shutting the door, John sits down across from him. "It's about the well. It's more than just the well, but I'll get to that in a minute. I have to go to N'vellesem, and consult with Anbur to see if I can get some local help."

"Do you think that's really wise, Colonel? Considering the trouble the last trip caused?"

"See that's the thing. If we're permanently stranded here, we can't afford to shut out possible allies, until we're forced to crawl to them on bended knee. We never got to the point where we figured out if there's anything that we have that they could use, and that's critical intelligence we can only get by engaging them in a dialog." John doesn't like the smirk that Caldwell's giving him.

"I understand your point, Sheppard, but my primary goal is to keep us safe." The smirk disappears, and is replaced with a challenging look. "I would think that you, of all people, would identify with that."

The entire crew is trapped and it's only a matter of time before someone starts wielding a knife to cut their way out of the web and John is always up to a challenge. "I do, but here's the thing, eventually being kept prisoner is going to cause someone to snap and go crazy. We can't afford to stay shut in and not take the risk."

Caldwell outright smiles at him. "You've been talking with Elizabeth."

"Well, I did find out what her position was, but no, we haven't been developing secret strategies."

"You've almost got her speech down word for word."

"We've been doing this for a while now, it isn't really new. You win some, you lose some, she'd retreat and I'd force an advance. I think that Anbur's proven himself to be someone that we can work with, and we have to pursue that possibility."

"Exactly what do you propose?"

"Just a short jaunt into town, say hi to Anbur and see if he knows of anyone that might be willing to help dig a well. If there is, then we find out what we can trade for it."

"I'll consider it, Sheppard. That's all I'm willing to do at the moment."

"Fair enough. Thank you."

Caldwell nods and returns to the bridge, and John's left with his frustration as company.

 

Day Eighty-Nine

The next day, John's surprised when Major Lorne joins him in the hangar bay, as he prepares for his run. "What's up? How are you feeling?"

"If I stay inside this ship one more day, I'm going to pull a Charles Whitfield." Lorne looks grim, still pale from many weeks of recovery, and his brutally short hair only serves to heighten the impression of someone on the edge of something dark.

He has to ask; only because Carson would kill him if he took Lorne out for a run, and it killed the Major after all that had been done to get him well again. "You cleared by medical?"

"Yeah."

"Cool. Let's go."

They take the route to the south through the canyons, and John lets Lorne set the pace. Neither of them makes any conversation, and that's fine with John. He's glad to have the company and pleased to discover that Lorne's just as willing to thumb his nose at authority.

Lorne keeps up the pace, but he starts to look peaked and white around the eyes with the effort. John takes pity on him, turning around even though he's barely broken a sweat. "Baby steps, Lorne."

He stops and leans over, hands on his knees and breathing heavily. "Yeah."

"Tomorrow?"

"Sounds good to me."

 

Day Ninety - Ninety-Three

The next morning, it's Lorne and Cadman. The day after that it's Alvarez and Timmons too, and the day after that it seems like nearly a whole damn platoon. John's secretly buoyed by this, though he'd never show it to anyone that was looking. He knows that they're just looking for an excuse to get off the ship, but it could be a sign of acceptance. He's trying not to read too much into it.

John lets Olander hustle them into formation behind him and takes off at double time pace for a long, hard run.

This is the day that everything changes, again. When the company is RTB, there's three locals waiting outside on the south side of the ship. John spots them, and raises his hand in a clenched fist, and the Marines instantly come to a halt. All of them have a sidearm, and there's a whole more of 'us' than 'them', so John's not too worried. "Stay here, wait for my signal, I'll go check out what they want. Lorne?"

Lorne threads his way through the company to join him, and they set off at a walk. As they close the distance, John can see that one of them is Anbur; his bright blue hat is unmistakable.

And Zuhair.

He tamps down his anger and, if he were to admit it to himself, fear as they approach the ship. John greets Anbur in Peragro, but Anbur takes pity on him and replies in English.

"John, pleasure to see you. I am glad you are well."

"Doing great." He shoots a no-thanks-to-you look at Zuhair, before returning his attention to Anbur. "I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"We only arrived." Anbur glances at Lorne, and John smoothly takes up the introductions.

"Major Lorne, this is Anbur from N'vellesem and Zuhair, of Ayse. I'm afraid I don't know him." John points at the third man.

"That is Tazim, of the Kadiani. Major Lorne." Anbur gives Lorne a little bow, and Lorne returns it without taking his eyes off of Zuhair.

Okay, so Kadiani, that's interesting, and partially answers one of John's questions, if it isn't the name of a town. "What can I do for you?"

"We come with invitation. The season for viat is upon us, you must journey and heal."

John shakes his head slightly. "Might have a problem with that." He turns and signals Olander to bring the Marines forward. "Sergeant, send a couple of guys in to get Caldwell and Weir to the hangar, and warn them that Anbur, Zuhair and Tazim are here to talk."

While Olander is sorting it out, John turns to the delegation, "Let's go inside." John motions towards the ladder and Anbur scrambles up after Lorne and the Marines, with Zuhair and Tazim following him. John is last up. The Marines on guard duty in the hangar give the ensemble a wary look, but stay alert and prepared from their positions.

As they wait for a few minutes for Caldwell and Elizabeth to join them, John keeps a peripheral eye on Zuhair as he coolly takes in the hangar and openly watches Tazim, who seems genuinely excited and in awe to be aboard the Daedalus.

Tazim is short, thin and wiry, with dark eyes and a wide smile half full of rotten teeth. under an impressive nose. On his head is a plaid scarf knotted into place; his finely woven white shirt and baggy trousers are covered with a long, black, hooded cape that sweeps his feet. He's smiling and chattering away to Anbur and Zuhair. Zuhair is only listening with half an ear, but Anbur is replying with gusto and animation.

Caldwell and Elizabeth arrive with an escort of six Marines; his expression is dark and forbidding, and, to her credit, Elizabeth doesn't appear to be the least bit intimidated by the presence of Zuhair. Rodney and an unhappy looking Shaaziya trail in behind them, and Rodney is glued to her side.

Anbur meets Elizabeth halfway across the hangar deck with a deep bow and a brief embrace, taking her hand to lead her over to Zuhair and Tazim. John shakes his head at Caldwell, who looks ready to blow a gasket.

"Elizabeth, my friend Tazim of the Kadiani from Zadiyeh. Am afraid you know Zuhair of less pleasant times."

Elizabeth nods at Zuhair curtly, but gives Tazim a short bow, and greets him Ancient. This delights Tazim, and they have a short conversation, while Anbur looks at them fondly. Zuhair is impassive, and John recognizes the mask for what it is.

"Perhaps we should find a more comfortable venue?" Elizabeth doesn't look at Steven or John as she leads the way towards the conference room.

John stops Caldwell at the hangar door. "I'm going to change."

Caldwell nods and peels off after Elizabeth.

John turns to Lorne. "If you want, meet me at the conference room in a few, this should be interesting."

"Will do, sir."

After a very cursory shower, John finds Lorne already waiting for him, grinning as he opens the conference room door.

Anbur and Tazim smile broadly, Caldwell and Zuhair are scowling at each other, Elizabeth's back is to the door; he really must speak to her about that.

There are only two empty seats, one between Anbur and Caldwell and the other between Elizabeth and Shaaziya. He knows that he's probably making some arcane political statement in the seating arrangement, but John doesn't have the strength or mental energy to deal with Shaaziya and her averted eyes, so he leaves that one for Lorne and sits next to Anbur.

Anbur clasps a hand on John's shoulder and gives it a slight squeeze. It surprises John, but the fact that Anbur isn't widely skirting his airspace leaves John feeling relieved.

Anbur looks around the table. "Now we begin. Much has happened, yes?"

"You could put it that way," John drawls.

"Very bad, but is past. There is much talk between us," Anbur waves his hand at Zuhair and Tazim, "and others. We are chosen to delegate, because Shepherd must take the viat." The conversation drags a little, because Anbur translates for Zuhair and Tazim. They agree to this with various degrees of enthusiasm, Tazim is eager, and Zuhair reluctant.

"What is this 'viat', and why must John do it?" Elizabeth's in full formal negotiating mode, her hands clasped together on the table as she leans slightly towards the delegation.

"The viat is journey, to holy shrine that all share. It is a time of peace and healing between peoples and self. It is necessary for the Quaralyn."

John's knows what Anbur's referring to, based on what Shaaziya had said back in Ayse, but he doesn't know if Rodney had divulged that particular information.

Elizabeth quirks her head to the side and asks, "Quaralyn?"

"Ah." Anbur discusses this with Elizabeth in Ancient, and John meets Rodney's eyes over the table and nods. Rodney is very good at secrets when he isn't being threatened with a knife.

Elizabeth provides a brief summary of the conversation. "Anbur says this is a doctrine that the Peragroilla reject, but the Qaroptimatia and the Zadiyeh hold as a basic tenant, that the Quaralyn is the return of the son of Qaral to human form. Not that I think you're the Second Coming, but even we have questions about what happened--"

John's interested in taking the trip, but it's the religious baggage he has a problem with. "Well, I kind of reject that philosophy myself."

Anbur lays his hand on John's arm. "You must not. I doubt but I can see." Anbur stops in frustration, and waves at Elizabeth.

"This is huge, John, very huge. Anbur believes this is an opportunity for us to leverage our way into their society, not as nusquam, but as an accepted faction."

"So, it's time to 'take one for the team'?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

"What happens when they find out that I'm just John Sheppard, popcorn colonel, fly boy?" John's sort of resigned to the fact that he's not going to win this one, but he has to at least give the impression of a struggle for his own sanity.

"That's the marvelous thing about faith." Elizabeth smiles, and it's awful, a bright, shark-like smile full of potential exploitation.

John leans back into his chair and frowns. "I'm not sure I like this side of you, Elizabeth."

Until now, Caldwell's been watching and listening intently with a dyspeptic expression. "For what it's worth, I agree with Elizabeth. We’ve been given an advantage, and we have to use it."

It's when Shaaziya looks him straight in the eye, with an expression of completely unguarded hope that John accepts defeat. "It is too late, it has already happened, whether you accept it or not."

"I have a question." Caldwell's still angry, which has pretty common lately. "What about this nixat that Zuhair declared? According to all reports, he seemed pretty intractable on the subject."

Elizabeth boldly asks Zuhair directly in Ancient; her tone of voice is mild, but there's a challenging look in her eyes.

Zuhair responds in kind. He speaks at length, his voice flat and toneless, his mask of indifference still firmly in place.

Elizabeth translates as he speaks. "He says the nixat has been rescinded, under pressure from the Council of Patern. Terms are that nusquam—that's us—cannot view the database directly, except under certain conditions." Elizabeth colors slightly, and Anbur nods once when she glances over at him. "But I'll go over that in more detail later. Anyone who meets these conditions is free to study. This is a compromise between the Peragroilla and Qaroptimat, the Kadiani are neutral on the subject."

"What's the problem with the database?" Lorne asks.

"It goes back to the beginnings of Dominat—it's a very complicated, but the high point is that Peragroilla believe that all are free to study and learn from it directly, but Qaroptimat hold that only Qaralyn, Qaral's son, was authorized to dispense the knowledge, and only the initiated may study and teach from his translation."

Anbur adds, "Many wars, much killing for long time, but we held peace for a hundred lifetimes. Cost too high to start again."

"This agreement is a codicil to that treaty, and Zuhair apologizes for his unilateral action." Elizabeth pauses as if she has something to add to that, but decides against it.

Caldwell snorts. "I don't think it's going to be that easy, once that ball gets rolling it's difficult to stop. I'm still not satisfied that we're not under fire."

John disagrees, "I'm not sure the ball ever really got rolling, outside of a few people. When we were in Ayse, most of the people simply ignored us and none of them made any threatening moves—other than Zuhair and his group."

"Just so. There was talk after monsters fell from sky. That your people brought plague to us, a punishment for Elizabeth. You fought them and won, that is known, and many grateful people. All were shocked when John was killed and returned from the dead; there was much fear and vengeance was expected, your great power is known."

John asks the question that's been simmering on the back burner for weeks. "Anbur, ask Zuhair if there were any witnesses to what happened to me."

"This has been questioned, none have spoken. Your body was set aside for one day according to custom. When they returned for the burning, you were as you are now."

John's only reply is a quick shrug of his eyebrows.

"This is the reason for taking viat. Progress has been made, and must continue to glue relations of your people to ours."

When Anbur put it that way, there was only one answer. John looks at Colonel Caldwell and he nods, though he doesn't look thrilled with the prospect despite his agreement. "I'll go, but I'm not going to be any damn religious leader."

Anbur gives his shoulder another of those warm squeezes. "You only accept—they believe."

"So can I take anyone, or do I have to do this alone?"

"No, not alone at all. Viat is time for family, for friends. Everyone is welcome."

Elizabeth gets down to the brass tacks. "When does this start, and how long can we expect to be gone?"

John's not surprised that Elizabeth intends to go, but Caldwell looks taken aback.

Anbur smiles. "Many will begin in ten days; that is best. Some rush and be done in twenty. I think twice that?"

"It's not like we have anywhere else to go." Elizabeth smiles at Anbur, and he laughs.

"Wherever you go, there you are." John says it barely under his breath, but Rodney catches it.

"Careful, Sheppard, your roots are showing. I'd like to go."

John nods thoughtfully. "I'd like that."

"I think it's an excellent opportunity. I'd like to make the offer to whoever wants the a chance to join you, John."

Caldwell jumps in. "I'd prefer that we set a figure on that group, Dr. Weir. We have no idea what they're going to encounter, and I think it'd be a better idea to have a carefully selected group."

Anbur stands up. "We will leave and allow discussion freely. Only requirement none must carry weapons, except small knife for cooking."

"What happens if the Wraith return?" Rodney asks suspiciously.

"Will of Qaral." Zuhair and Tazim nod solemnly when Anbur translates.

John chuckles. "That'll cut down the RSVP list."

"We'll have a strategy in place before you leave, Colonel." Caldwell meets John's eyes as they stand, and John knows that he's already making contingency plans.

 

Day Ninety-Five - One Hundred-Three

There are a lot of the Daedalus crew who think it might be fun to get out, but most are dissuaded by the idea of an extended walk across the desert and back. It comes down to John, Rodney, Shaaziya, Elizabeth, Paige Cole, Lorne, Cadman, Timmons, and Chin. Rodney's harassing the guys in the machine shop as they assemble what's essentially a solar powered wagon.

Elizabeth grills Shaaziya on what to expect, and John makes his plans accordingly. Without weapons, their main concern is feeding ten people, and Rodney or Elizabeth dropping dead of heat exhaustion—hence Dr. Cole—since they've been ill and or sedentary since Landing Day (no one wanted to call it Crash Day). John implements a forced regimen for them, walking and running in the daylight hours, increasing the time by large increments each day.

The rest of the crew is just pleased that Caldwell loosens the security restrictions, and they're free to explore the environs again. Some enterprising soul has lifted a camera intended for Atlantis, and the crew goes crazy taking pictures of the desert and the bizarre purple sky.

It begins a few days before they're scheduled to leave. John and his running gang find small groups of colorfully dressed people, praying in the sand beside the ship, when they return from their run. When the viator catch sight of John, they whisper among themselves and prostrate a little more fully.

"John?" Elizabeth's got just enough energy left to throw a quirked eyebrow at him.

"Damn, Sheppard. I hope you use your powers for good, not evil." Lorne slaps him on the back and heads up the ladder.

"Shut up, it's not funny." John starts up the ladder after him.

Rodney wheezes as he climbs up. "Oh, I beg to differ, it's hilarious. John Sheppard, religious icon."

Lorne grins and wipes away a nonexistent tear. "Oh, Little John's all grown up!" They all laugh or merely smile depending on how exhausted they are, and John puts on his most aggrieved expression.

He welcomes the humorous teasing, though. "I have no idea how they plan to get anywhere if they have to do that every time they see me."

Cadman yells up from the bottom of the ladder. "Maybe they'll put you in a disguise—unveil the secret weapon at the holy shrine. Maybe you'll have to make a speech! Better start brushing up your Ancient, sir."

John's more than a little mortified at the idea. "Damn it, you don't think..."

Lorne's still smiling, though a little more sympathetically. "Dunno, wouldn't put it past them."

"What the hell have I got myself into?"

Elizabeth aborts a move to pat him on the shoulder. "I wouldn't worry about it; what'd Anbur say? 'You accept, they believe?' I don't think they care what you think. Just don't start taking your press too seriously, John."

John shakes his head. "Yeah, right. No chance of that."

Lorne snickers. "See you later."

"Later."

While everyone else heads towards cool showers and horizontal surfaces, John watches the pilgrims as he considers once again, the weirdness of the Pegasus galaxy.

 

Day One Hundred-Three

Rodney's supervising the Marines he's co-opted into hauling the wagon off the hangar bay. With the normal offloading crane on the port side buried deep in the sand, he's rigged a makeshift pulley to lower it down to the sand for a trial run.

It's an ugly thing, but as Rodney points out, function over form, and he's only had a few days to cobble it together. It's ingenious, a flat bed to distribute the weight, and upright staves to lash on the cargo. The solar panel lies on top of the load attached to the small battery powered engine on the front. In case the mechanics crap out, there's also a pull handle, and the tires from a hangar queen provide traction even in the sand.

It's fun to play with. There's a remote control, and John watches with amusement as Rodney piles people on board to check the load limitations. Cadman manages to coax Rodney onto it, and as she ramps it up to a surprising top speed, John nearly wets himself laughing as Rodney screams for her to stop.

When she takes pity on him and brings the cart to a halt, John worries for a second that Rodney's about to launch an attack, but he's grinning when he rolls off into the sand.

 

Day One Hundred-Four

Anbur appears at the ship, accompanied by all of the Ludahsediat's older students, the three Idon—Baariq, Dara and Iqbal, and a pack of the draft animals that resemble a cross between a donkey and a camel, loaded to capacity with bundles and barrels.

Fortunately, none of the students seem particularly excited about John's status as Quaralyn; they know him from his school days and that gives him a small measure of relief as he greets Anbur with a hand shake. "Anbur, how are you?"

"I am well. Are you prepared?"

"As much as we'll ever be, I guess."

"Good! I have bought for you three mesla, very sturdy. Carry your burden for the viat."

John had had his doubts about Rodney's wagon and the terrain; so having an alternative is attractive. "Thanks, that'll be great. What do we feed them?"

"All is prepared. I am your benefactor, yes? Those that have been before care for those who are new. Custom to feed those that journey along the way."

"Okay, sounds good." John starts recalculating his provisions list.

"I have brought map for Colonel, he is staying?"

"Yeah, he's staying."

"Is sad, but next year, hmm?"

John's still vaguely holding out hope for a rescue, but he keeps that to himself. "Yeah, next time," he says as he nods. "So, who's up for a tour?"

Anbur hollers out instructions and some of the kids stake out the mesla in the ship's shade, and they all clamber aboard the Daedalus. John leads them inside, and the scene is surreal and chaotic. Anbur heads off to find Caldwell, and John is left to play tour guide.

He shanghais Cadman, Lorne and Timmons and divides the tour into smaller, more manageable groups. John takes Lorne and they head upwards, talking about the ship. He's pretty sure they don't really understand his lecture, but the students are still interested and appreciative.

Elizabeth finds him at the hatch, letting the kids climb out topsides. "Hey. I heard we had guests."

"Yeah, kind of surprised me, too."

"It's a good idea, I'm glad we've been given the opportunity to reciprocate Anbur's generosity. I've arranged for dinner with the galley staff. I think we'll probably do something on the hangar deck." Elizabeth's brittle smile is pasted on, and she has the frantic air of a new housewife whose husband's just told her that not just the boss, but also the whole damned board of directors, are coming for dinner, and all she has in the pantry are three cans of pork and beans.

"I was thinking we'd let them camp out in the hangar tonight, so they could say they slept in a space ship." John pauses, looking at her. "It's a kid thing. It'll be alright, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth gives out a short, strangled laugh. "I know, but I feel like we have to impress on them that we're not just some penniless itinerants with nothing to offer."

"I'm pretty sure Anbur knows that already. He'll appreciate the gesture."

"Yes, I understand that, but I fear that what we have to give them in return for food and shelter may be too esoteric and intangible." She watches the chaos around them, chattering kids of all ages climbing up and down the ladder and yelling at each other through the hatch. "You don't think they'll hurt themselves up there?"

He's glad for the change of topic, because in a way they are 'penniless itinerants', and he's sure Elizabeth doesn't want to hear his theories on social integration. "Nah. Lorne's up there to make sure they don't jump off."

Her eyes widen in surprise. "Are they likely to?"

John just smiles.

"Ah, I see. Well. It'll probably be a couple of hours."

"We'll be there."

Dinner was just the usual fare, with the last of the fresh food bulked out with reconstituted dry stores. The food service crew takes the whole thing in stride; serving tables are set up buffet style, and the entire crew and the Peragroilla viator picnic in the lazy heat of the late afternoon. After a few quick conversations and calculations, Elizabeth urges Anbur to also invite the few pilgrims that have arrived to join them.

After dinner, the Marines start up the usual game and corral the students into playing. Some of the kids run to explore the growing hole on the port side, and John's reminded of a huge family reunion. The language barrier doesn't seem to be a problem, and every one appears to be enjoying the break in the stifling monotony. The students are beside themselves with excitement, though they make lousy volleyball players.

John finds Rodney sitting on the edge of the hangar bay, watching Shaaziya learning to serve. "Looks like she's having fun. Why aren't you out there?"

Rodney scoffs. "Right. Why aren't you? This should be right up your alley."

"This is about high school isn't it?" John and Rodney share a small sad smile over the lost Aidan Ford.

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Rodney says in a prim voice.

"Come on, McKay, let's go play some volley ball." John prods at Rodney until he relents, and they join the game in progress. The court is crowded, and Rodney rarely even has a chance at the ball, but no one cares or is counting.

Eventually it's too dark to play and they're planning for an early morning departure, so the improvised affair comes to a dragging halt. The Idon see to the students and their bedding, and the Daedalus settles back into routine.

 

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