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tanaquiljallTitle: All The Fun of The Fair
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
tanaquisga
Genre: Supporting Character Appreciation Day
Prompt carnival or fair
Word Count: 2100
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: implied adult themes
Summary: When you send an expedition to another galaxy, you should expect some culture clashes. Set early Season 1
Notes: My thanks to my usual betas. When I got the genre and prompt for this story, I started thinking about which secondary characters I wanted to put in the team I was going to send to the fair. And I couldn't resist concocting the "Team of Doom": Dumais, who dies in 1x13 Hot Zone, Markham, who dies in 1x16 The Brotherhood; Bates, who is beaten to a pulp by a Wraith in 1x19 The Siege Part 1 (and whom we don't see again for two and a half seasons); and Kanaan, who gets kidnapped, experimented on and used by Michael in Seasons 4 and 5. So it's not quite "...and then everyone dies", but it is a bit of a tribute to the fact there have been an awful lot of good secondary characters who were killed off.
oOo
Doctor Anne Dumais looked around at the crowded marketplace and grimaced. "I thought I joined the Atlantis expedition to get away from this," she muttered.
"Get away from what?" Sergeant Bates cocked an eyebrow at her before he went back to suspiciously scanning the press of people brushing past them as the Atlantis off-world team ambled between the stalls. His hands were ready on his P-90, although the weapon was pointed towards the ground, and Anne was conscious of the unfamiliar weight of the 9mm pistol strapped to her own thigh. Their guide, an Athosian recommended by Teyla called Kanaan, had reassured them that the planet was a friendly one, a regular trading partner of the Athosians, but that didn't mean they could relax.
Besides, Anne had already worked out that Bates was suspicious of everyone, all the time.
In her case, the unease wasn't just a result of being on a strange planet in a different galaxy. It was being here, doing what they were doing. She gestured around at the traders and customers on all sides as she answered Bates' question. "Making the weekly run to the supermarket."
Bates' lips twitched. "But don't you girls all love to shop?" he asked, his tone overly innocent.
Anne rolled her eyes, aware he was doing his best to wind her up. The expedition members had quickly settled down into some friendly teasing whenever the science and military contingents were forced to work together. Mind you, she reflected, this was the first time she'd ever heard Bates crack a joke.
"May I just remind you," she smiled sweetly at him, "that before we left Atlantis, you issued me a gun?" She let her hand rest on the grip. "If you carry on saying stuff like that, I believe I may find myself explaining to Major Sheppard why there was an unfortunate.... what's the term...? 'Friendly fire' incident."
Bates gave her a long stare, his hands tensing on his P-90, and she had ample time to consider that maybe he didn't have a sense of humor after all, before he relaxed, the ghost of a grin on his face. "I'll bear that in mind," he said gruffly. Switching his attention back to the marketplace, he nodded to where, ahead of them, Kanaan and Sergeant Markham had stopped at one of the stalls. "This must be it."
An hour later, they emerged blinking in the sunlight from the tented booth behind the stall, having sealed a satisfactory deal with much toasting in some foul-tasting local tea. Luckily, the samples of the various fruits and vegetables they'd bargained for had been much more appetising.
Licking her lips and wondering how soon she could politely reach for her canteen to wash away the taste of the tea, Anne hoped Doctor Weir would be pleased with the deal they'd struck. There had been the usual short-term trade in medicines but, with the expedition running low on what they'd brought through the wormhole and still ironing out the wrinkles in obtaining new supplies from the various microbe cultures they'd also brought, they'd been under orders to barter scientific expertise where they could. Anne's questioning had established that the merchant had access to oil-rich seeds, and she'd promised the knowledge to manufacture biodiesel and build tractors that could plough and haul far more efficiently than men.
Kanaan was the last to emerge from the tent, apparently exchanging some final words with the merchant. The three of them—Anne, Bates and Markham—stood to one side of the stall waiting for him, Bates once more tensely scanning the crowd, Markham a little more relaxed but still alert.
Bates took a moment to tilt his head in respect at Anne. "Good work, doctor. For someone who doesn't like shopping, you're pretty good at bartering."
"Thanks." Anne blushed slightly, surprised at the compliment. She glanced at the stall next door, which was alive with the clucking of caged birds—the Pegasus equivalent of chickens, she supposed—and sighed."I guess we should take a look around and see if there's anything else we can use? Although," she shrugged unenthusiastically, "with the level of technology these people have, I'm not sure what."
Markham cleared his throat. "Actually, ma'am...." He shuffled his feet. "I was hoping to maybe find some, um, socks."
Anne wondered if she'd heard correctly. Bates too, apparently, as he beat her to a reply.
"Socks? What d'you do? Forget to pack yours?"
A blush crept over Markham's face. "No. But I'm kinda hard on them. And a pair got ruined when you led us into that swamp...."
"Okay, okay." Bataes looked nettled. "We'll find you some."
Kanaan had joined them, and was looking at them enquiringly. "Is there another merchant you wish to visit?"
"Apparently we need socks." Bates glared at Markham.
"Apparel?" Kanaan dipped his head. "There are several traders here who may serve. However, some of my own people are skilled in spinning and weaving. Perhaps they may assist on our return?"
"Sounds good to me." Bates raised an eyebrow at Markham. "Not as if you have anything to trade with anyway."
Markham shrugged and smiled at Kanaan. "Thanks. So," he gestured slightly with his P-90, "we just see what there is to be seen?"
"Sounds like a plan." Bates settled his own P-90 more firmly. "Well, half a plan...."
They worked their way deeper into the market, past stalls selling cooking pots, leather goods, some particularly vile-smelling dried meat and fish, textiles and furs, jars of oil, little packages of salt.... There were a few tents, apparently selling luxury items, with armed guards standing on either side of the entrances, and a rather larger number of noisy counters where some kind of local ale was being served in leather flagons. Everything a mediaeval peasant could want, Anne reflected, but not much that would be of use to Atlantis.
After a while, they came to an open space where a group of acrobats was tumbling and turning, and they stopped to watch. The acrobats had long sticks which they used to vault over each other; or two of them would gather together and use the poles to raise a third and flip him high in the air. The group ebbed and flowed, joining and parting in different moves, dodging and weaving while their comrades twirled and and threw and caught the sticks like drum majorettes.
Anne found herself laughing and clapping at one particularly spectacular move, and she turned to Kanaan. "They're marvellous! So skilful...."
Kanaan smiled down at her gravely. She'd noticed that, even for an Athosian, he was a little on the intense side, but he had been friendly and helpful. "It is called Ketkari." He gestured to where one of the acrobats was resting on his stick, which came up to his shoulder. "It means long staff. Many of the peoples in this galaxy have developed such fighting techniques. After all," his tone turned bitter, "the Wraith cannot chop down all the trees on every planet."
Anne suddenly felt very small. Of course, there were lots of arts on Earth that ultimately derived from military techniques; here in Pegasus, such skills were no mere pastimes. She swallowed, trying to think of something to say that would make her sound less stupid.
Kanaan didn't seem to notice her embarrassment, but was looking again at the acrobats. "We of Athos have such an art. I believe Teyla has been teaching it to Major Sheppard. She is a mistress of it." Anne could hear the admiration in his voice. "You should ask her to show you some time."
Behind her, Markham said with a chuckle, "I've seen that. She whups his ass pretty good."
Kanaan inclined his head. "It takes many years to master and, as I said, Teyla is among the most skilled of our people. I believe she thinks Major Sheppard is quite promising for one new to the art."
"Well, we do have a few hand-to-hand techniques of our own...."
While Kanaan and Markham began comparing fighting styles, Anne's gaze wandered to the crowd. At first glance, it seemed somber, but Anne realised that it was merely because of their rather drab clothing, which mostly came in various shades of brown, grey and the odd splash of deep dull red or pale yellow. She felt positively freakish wearing the light blue of the Atlantis science contingent, and even Bates and Markham stood out thanks to the intense black of their tac vests. But the expressions on the faces around her were warm and cheerful: teenage girls laughing together; wide-eyed younger children pointing and clapping at the antics of the acrobats; men greeting each other heartily with slaps on the back.
The acrobats ended their display and people began to drift into the middle of the square. Anne absently heard Kanaan excuse himself—she thought to talk to an old friend he'd spotted—and saw him disappear off to the right into the throng. Bates and Markham were now talking, discussing whether they should return to the Stargate or if there was more to explore, but Anne was still distracted with watching the crowd and thinking about how people were people everywhere.
A man approached her. She supposed he might be richly dressed for this planet, since the leather strappings on his gear were tooled with swirling designs in silvery metal, but he seemed pretty rough to her. "How much?"
Anne looked at him blankly. "How much for what?"
The man shrugged and looked her up and down. "An hour?"
"A—what?" Anne repeated, feeling uneasy. She didn't much like the way he was looking at her..
"Half an hour, then?"
"For what?" Anne took a step backwards. Behind her, she could feel Bates and Markham stiffening as they became aware of the conversation.
"Whatever you offer." He took a pace forwards. "Are you a mistress of one of the seven arts?"
Anne gaped at him. "I... I'm... I'm not...," she stuttered.
Bates stepped past her and in front of her, putting out his hand to hold the other man off.
"Beat it, pal. She's not for sale."
The main raised his eyebrows. "She has two guards. She wears the colour of a woman of commerce. She is in the marketplace...."
"I said she's not for sale." Bates took a step closer and gave the man a shove. The man shoved back, and then threw a punch at Bates. Bates ducked and landed his own blow on the man's side. The next thing Anne knew, they had their arms round each other, grunting as they wrestled, and a space was growing around them as the crowd backed away. Beside her, Anne could feel Markham's indecision as to whether to intervene, even as she saw Kanaan sprinting back toward them.
"Please! Stop!" Kanaan pulled the man away from Bates, and Markham stepped forward and did the same with the sergeant. Both were breathing hard, and both looked as if they'd get back into it if Markham or Kanaan let go.
"Please." Kanaan looked between them. "It was just a misunderstanding." He gave Bates and Markham a hard look. "Go! Please." Bates glared back for a moment, and then relaxed and shrugged Markham off.
"OK." He turned and grabbed Anne by the arm. "Come on. Let's get back to the Gate."
Anne nodded and let him tow her through the crowd, Markham a step behind. A moment later, Kanaan caught up with them. He looked embarrassed. "Please. Forgive me. I had forgotten some of the customs of this planet and how you might appear...."
Bates cut him off. "Let's just get back to the Gate."
Anne had never been more in agreement with anyone, or more relieved to leave a place.
oOo
Doctor Weir was pleased with trades they'd made, gifting the team with one of her all-too-rare smiles as they finished enumerating the proposed delivery schedule. She sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "Anything else I should know?"
"Well...." Bates smirked at Anne. "I think we found something new to trade."
"Oh?" Elizabeth leaned forward attentively.
"I don't think so." Anne glared back at Bates, before turning to Elizabeth. "Me." She sighed. "I got propositioned. Apparently some cultural thing about wearing blue."
"Prop—? Oh!" Elizabeth's slight frown cleared, and she looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Yes, well, I don't think we're quite there yet."
Now it was Anne's turn to smirk. "Well, only if Sergeant Bates volunteers to take his turn...."
Author:
tanaquisgaGenre: Supporting Character Appreciation Day
Prompt carnival or fair
Word Count: 2100
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: implied adult themes
Summary: When you send an expedition to another galaxy, you should expect some culture clashes. Set early Season 1
Notes: My thanks to my usual betas. When I got the genre and prompt for this story, I started thinking about which secondary characters I wanted to put in the team I was going to send to the fair. And I couldn't resist concocting the "Team of Doom": Dumais, who dies in 1x13 Hot Zone, Markham, who dies in 1x16 The Brotherhood; Bates, who is beaten to a pulp by a Wraith in 1x19 The Siege Part 1 (and whom we don't see again for two and a half seasons); and Kanaan, who gets kidnapped, experimented on and used by Michael in Seasons 4 and 5. So it's not quite "...and then everyone dies", but it is a bit of a tribute to the fact there have been an awful lot of good secondary characters who were killed off.
Doctor Anne Dumais looked around at the crowded marketplace and grimaced. "I thought I joined the Atlantis expedition to get away from this," she muttered.
"Get away from what?" Sergeant Bates cocked an eyebrow at her before he went back to suspiciously scanning the press of people brushing past them as the Atlantis off-world team ambled between the stalls. His hands were ready on his P-90, although the weapon was pointed towards the ground, and Anne was conscious of the unfamiliar weight of the 9mm pistol strapped to her own thigh. Their guide, an Athosian recommended by Teyla called Kanaan, had reassured them that the planet was a friendly one, a regular trading partner of the Athosians, but that didn't mean they could relax.
Besides, Anne had already worked out that Bates was suspicious of everyone, all the time.
In her case, the unease wasn't just a result of being on a strange planet in a different galaxy. It was being here, doing what they were doing. She gestured around at the traders and customers on all sides as she answered Bates' question. "Making the weekly run to the supermarket."
Bates' lips twitched. "But don't you girls all love to shop?" he asked, his tone overly innocent.
Anne rolled her eyes, aware he was doing his best to wind her up. The expedition members had quickly settled down into some friendly teasing whenever the science and military contingents were forced to work together. Mind you, she reflected, this was the first time she'd ever heard Bates crack a joke.
"May I just remind you," she smiled sweetly at him, "that before we left Atlantis, you issued me a gun?" She let her hand rest on the grip. "If you carry on saying stuff like that, I believe I may find myself explaining to Major Sheppard why there was an unfortunate.... what's the term...? 'Friendly fire' incident."
Bates gave her a long stare, his hands tensing on his P-90, and she had ample time to consider that maybe he didn't have a sense of humor after all, before he relaxed, the ghost of a grin on his face. "I'll bear that in mind," he said gruffly. Switching his attention back to the marketplace, he nodded to where, ahead of them, Kanaan and Sergeant Markham had stopped at one of the stalls. "This must be it."
An hour later, they emerged blinking in the sunlight from the tented booth behind the stall, having sealed a satisfactory deal with much toasting in some foul-tasting local tea. Luckily, the samples of the various fruits and vegetables they'd bargained for had been much more appetising.
Licking her lips and wondering how soon she could politely reach for her canteen to wash away the taste of the tea, Anne hoped Doctor Weir would be pleased with the deal they'd struck. There had been the usual short-term trade in medicines but, with the expedition running low on what they'd brought through the wormhole and still ironing out the wrinkles in obtaining new supplies from the various microbe cultures they'd also brought, they'd been under orders to barter scientific expertise where they could. Anne's questioning had established that the merchant had access to oil-rich seeds, and she'd promised the knowledge to manufacture biodiesel and build tractors that could plough and haul far more efficiently than men.
Kanaan was the last to emerge from the tent, apparently exchanging some final words with the merchant. The three of them—Anne, Bates and Markham—stood to one side of the stall waiting for him, Bates once more tensely scanning the crowd, Markham a little more relaxed but still alert.
Bates took a moment to tilt his head in respect at Anne. "Good work, doctor. For someone who doesn't like shopping, you're pretty good at bartering."
"Thanks." Anne blushed slightly, surprised at the compliment. She glanced at the stall next door, which was alive with the clucking of caged birds—the Pegasus equivalent of chickens, she supposed—and sighed."I guess we should take a look around and see if there's anything else we can use? Although," she shrugged unenthusiastically, "with the level of technology these people have, I'm not sure what."
Markham cleared his throat. "Actually, ma'am...." He shuffled his feet. "I was hoping to maybe find some, um, socks."
Anne wondered if she'd heard correctly. Bates too, apparently, as he beat her to a reply.
"Socks? What d'you do? Forget to pack yours?"
A blush crept over Markham's face. "No. But I'm kinda hard on them. And a pair got ruined when you led us into that swamp...."
"Okay, okay." Bataes looked nettled. "We'll find you some."
Kanaan had joined them, and was looking at them enquiringly. "Is there another merchant you wish to visit?"
"Apparently we need socks." Bates glared at Markham.
"Apparel?" Kanaan dipped his head. "There are several traders here who may serve. However, some of my own people are skilled in spinning and weaving. Perhaps they may assist on our return?"
"Sounds good to me." Bates raised an eyebrow at Markham. "Not as if you have anything to trade with anyway."
Markham shrugged and smiled at Kanaan. "Thanks. So," he gestured slightly with his P-90, "we just see what there is to be seen?"
"Sounds like a plan." Bates settled his own P-90 more firmly. "Well, half a plan...."
They worked their way deeper into the market, past stalls selling cooking pots, leather goods, some particularly vile-smelling dried meat and fish, textiles and furs, jars of oil, little packages of salt.... There were a few tents, apparently selling luxury items, with armed guards standing on either side of the entrances, and a rather larger number of noisy counters where some kind of local ale was being served in leather flagons. Everything a mediaeval peasant could want, Anne reflected, but not much that would be of use to Atlantis.
After a while, they came to an open space where a group of acrobats was tumbling and turning, and they stopped to watch. The acrobats had long sticks which they used to vault over each other; or two of them would gather together and use the poles to raise a third and flip him high in the air. The group ebbed and flowed, joining and parting in different moves, dodging and weaving while their comrades twirled and and threw and caught the sticks like drum majorettes.
Anne found herself laughing and clapping at one particularly spectacular move, and she turned to Kanaan. "They're marvellous! So skilful...."
Kanaan smiled down at her gravely. She'd noticed that, even for an Athosian, he was a little on the intense side, but he had been friendly and helpful. "It is called Ketkari." He gestured to where one of the acrobats was resting on his stick, which came up to his shoulder. "It means long staff. Many of the peoples in this galaxy have developed such fighting techniques. After all," his tone turned bitter, "the Wraith cannot chop down all the trees on every planet."
Anne suddenly felt very small. Of course, there were lots of arts on Earth that ultimately derived from military techniques; here in Pegasus, such skills were no mere pastimes. She swallowed, trying to think of something to say that would make her sound less stupid.
Kanaan didn't seem to notice her embarrassment, but was looking again at the acrobats. "We of Athos have such an art. I believe Teyla has been teaching it to Major Sheppard. She is a mistress of it." Anne could hear the admiration in his voice. "You should ask her to show you some time."
Behind her, Markham said with a chuckle, "I've seen that. She whups his ass pretty good."
Kanaan inclined his head. "It takes many years to master and, as I said, Teyla is among the most skilled of our people. I believe she thinks Major Sheppard is quite promising for one new to the art."
"Well, we do have a few hand-to-hand techniques of our own...."
While Kanaan and Markham began comparing fighting styles, Anne's gaze wandered to the crowd. At first glance, it seemed somber, but Anne realised that it was merely because of their rather drab clothing, which mostly came in various shades of brown, grey and the odd splash of deep dull red or pale yellow. She felt positively freakish wearing the light blue of the Atlantis science contingent, and even Bates and Markham stood out thanks to the intense black of their tac vests. But the expressions on the faces around her were warm and cheerful: teenage girls laughing together; wide-eyed younger children pointing and clapping at the antics of the acrobats; men greeting each other heartily with slaps on the back.
The acrobats ended their display and people began to drift into the middle of the square. Anne absently heard Kanaan excuse himself—she thought to talk to an old friend he'd spotted—and saw him disappear off to the right into the throng. Bates and Markham were now talking, discussing whether they should return to the Stargate or if there was more to explore, but Anne was still distracted with watching the crowd and thinking about how people were people everywhere.
A man approached her. She supposed he might be richly dressed for this planet, since the leather strappings on his gear were tooled with swirling designs in silvery metal, but he seemed pretty rough to her. "How much?"
Anne looked at him blankly. "How much for what?"
The man shrugged and looked her up and down. "An hour?"
"A—what?" Anne repeated, feeling uneasy. She didn't much like the way he was looking at her..
"Half an hour, then?"
"For what?" Anne took a step backwards. Behind her, she could feel Bates and Markham stiffening as they became aware of the conversation.
"Whatever you offer." He took a pace forwards. "Are you a mistress of one of the seven arts?"
Anne gaped at him. "I... I'm... I'm not...," she stuttered.
Bates stepped past her and in front of her, putting out his hand to hold the other man off.
"Beat it, pal. She's not for sale."
The main raised his eyebrows. "She has two guards. She wears the colour of a woman of commerce. She is in the marketplace...."
"I said she's not for sale." Bates took a step closer and gave the man a shove. The man shoved back, and then threw a punch at Bates. Bates ducked and landed his own blow on the man's side. The next thing Anne knew, they had their arms round each other, grunting as they wrestled, and a space was growing around them as the crowd backed away. Beside her, Anne could feel Markham's indecision as to whether to intervene, even as she saw Kanaan sprinting back toward them.
"Please! Stop!" Kanaan pulled the man away from Bates, and Markham stepped forward and did the same with the sergeant. Both were breathing hard, and both looked as if they'd get back into it if Markham or Kanaan let go.
"Please." Kanaan looked between them. "It was just a misunderstanding." He gave Bates and Markham a hard look. "Go! Please." Bates glared back for a moment, and then relaxed and shrugged Markham off.
"OK." He turned and grabbed Anne by the arm. "Come on. Let's get back to the Gate."
Anne nodded and let him tow her through the crowd, Markham a step behind. A moment later, Kanaan caught up with them. He looked embarrassed. "Please. Forgive me. I had forgotten some of the customs of this planet and how you might appear...."
Bates cut him off. "Let's just get back to the Gate."
Anne had never been more in agreement with anyone, or more relieved to leave a place.
Doctor Weir was pleased with trades they'd made, gifting the team with one of her all-too-rare smiles as they finished enumerating the proposed delivery schedule. She sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. "Anything else I should know?"
"Well...." Bates smirked at Anne. "I think we found something new to trade."
"Oh?" Elizabeth leaned forward attentively.
"I don't think so." Anne glared back at Bates, before turning to Elizabeth. "Me." She sighed. "I got propositioned. Apparently some cultural thing about wearing blue."
"Prop—? Oh!" Elizabeth's slight frown cleared, and she looked like she was trying not to laugh. "Yes, well, I don't think we're quite there yet."
Now it was Anne's turn to smirk. "Well, only if Sergeant Bates volunteers to take his turn...."
