A/N: A big thank you goes out to Linzi for the beta, and to SheppyD for inspiring the fic in the first place. Contains spoilers for Common Ground, and minor spoilers for Phantoms. Also contains torture scenes, so if you want fluffy!fic, please don't continue. If you like loads of angst, read on... Concrit welcome. :D

Disclaimer: The copyright for Stargate Atlantis belongs to MGM studios and SciFi channel. It's their playground- I'm just playing in it.

Chapter 1

John let his gaze wander around the now familiar conference room. It was their fourth visit to Tranth, and since things were going so well, it would probably be their last for the foreseeable future. John's team were primarily one of first contact, and now that they had almost completed the trade negotiations and were settling in to what looked like an easy alliance, there would be little need for John and the others to return. Lt. Rodriguez and his team would take over, escorting civilian teams with medical, engineering and agricultural supplies and carrying back the foodstuffs they were trading for.

John silently reviewed the premise of the treaty. On the surface, it was a poor bargain for Atlantis, since supplies from Earth were more readily available than they had been in previous years. The Tranthians didn't have much else to offer – besides friendship. And with enemies piling up with alarming alacricity, the Lantean's needed allies.

From what John had seen, the Tranthians were a thriving civilisation on the verge of an industrial boom. Furthermore, they were open and friendly traders who had a wide trade network established with other planets. The information that they could gather from their trading partners and their ability to move throughout other worlds without raising attention from Atlantis' enemies made them invaluable, in John's opinion. A viable intelligence structure in the Pegasus Galaxy was something they were sorely lacking, and desperately needed.

"Colonel Sheppard. Could I interest you in a tour of our weapons factory?" The quiet question interrupted John's musings, and he looked at Commander Greaves, hoping the relief he felt wasn't too evident.

"Sounds great. If you guys don't need us here?" He turned and looked inquiringly to Elizabeth and Chancellor Frathon, who were in the midst of wrapping up the last tedious details of the treaty. At their acquiesce, he turned to his team.

"You guys stay here. I shouldn't be gone for more than a couple of hours." He ignored a dirty look from Ronon, and inclined his head slightly in return to Teyla's nod. He followed Commander Greaves, pausing at the doorway where Lt. Fellows and Sgt. Adams were standing guard with two of Greaves' men. He put his hand on Lt. Fellows shoulder.

"It shouldn't be necessary, but if anything goes wrong, follow Teyla's lead and contact me immediately." He nodded at the affirmative response, and then followed the Commander down the hallway and out into the city.

"I hope you don't mind leaving the negotiations, Colonel. I thought I recognised the same boredom I was feeling in your expression," Greaves said with a friendly smile.

"I was hoping no-one noticed." John returned the smile. "Weapons factories are a lot more appealing. Thank you for the invitation, Commander."

"You're more than welcome, Colonel. In truth, they are more appealing to me, as well. And I think you will be interested to see our progress. The engineering advances your people will provide us with will undoubtedly aid that progress as well."

John nodded, without replying. Assisting other cultures with weapons advancement was a delicate subject, and one he was of two minds about. On the one hand, if you were going to have allies, it was best to have well armed allies. On the other hand, he'd had plenty of opportunities in the Pegasus Galaxy to see how quickly allies could become enemies. Still, Elizabeth had agreed to supply engineering advice to the Tranthians infant electricity plant, and she was not naïve enough to believe any advances wouldn't affect the culture's military as well.

John strolled through the city streets, enjoying the relaxed pace Commander Greaves set, and indulged his interest in his surroundings. The city was built entirely of monolithic stone structures, huge buildings that rambled in a haphazard order. If there was any guiding plan to the city's development, it was beyond John's ability to recognise it. He did admire the strategic value of the meandering streets, however. An attacking army would have their forces ground to pieces in the narrow, twisting streets. The buildings, built of thick, stone walls and reinforced buttressing, would take some serious ammunition to bring down, and would further constrict the hostiles when they did. They wouldn't hold up to advanced weaponry like drones, of course, so they'd have the same problems as any other civilization against the Wraith or the Asurans. The Tranthians seemed to be flourishing however, so it appeared they had avoided detection from those forces so far.

They walked through the massive gates of the walled city's southern entrance and followed the rutted roadway through the forested outskirts with Commander Greaves' armed escort following closely, but at a respectful pace. It was a good fifteen minutes before they reached the cleared area where the weapons factory was located. Looking at the sprawling complex, John quickly realised that 'weapons factory' was a misleading term. The complex consisted of ten or so large buildings, built using the same massive, grey stone bricks of which the city was constructed. It was walled in, as was the city, and reminded John more of a medieval castle than a military complex.

"Is it wise having the facility this far from the city's defences?" he asked the Commander.

"It is one of the drawbacks, yes," Greaves responded uncomfortably. "It is well defended, however, and considering the experimental nature of many of our undertakings, we need to consider the safety of the city, as well. Our original building was located inside the city walls, but the need for expansion forced us to seek more space, and the council would only approve the funding if we located outside of the township. They were a little unnerved by the occasional explosion." He gave John a wry grin. John responded with a quixotic quirk of his eyebrow, and they passed into the complex.

oOo

John found the tour of the weapons complex fascinating. It was an experience that felt like stepping back in history. The Tranthian culture was a strange mixture of medieval and industrial age. The main weapon of choice was still a sword, although the tour of the iron smelt and armouries had shown John that these people were catching up fast, and were making good headway in propulsion weapons. Early model guns and rifles were already in use by the city's inhabitants and more prosperous rural citizens, and Commander Greaves assured him that their armies were being trained in the use of both guns and explosives designed from the local equivalent of gunpowder. Greaves even showed him their experimental weapons building, where cannons were under development, as well as something that looked like an automatic catapult that was completely new to him.

They were just exiting the building when a huge explosion rocked the compound. The force of the blast threw them off their feet and John lay momentarily stunned, feeling the aftershock rattle through the ground. He shook his head and rolled over to check on Greaves. The Commander was already back on his feet, yelling orders to his escort. As the soldiers dashed off to obey his commands, he turned to John and offered him a hand up.

"I'm truly sorry, Colonel Sheppard. I've just sent people to discover the cause of the explosion, so we'll find out what's happening momentarily." He broke off as a dusty soldier came running up to him. John listened as the man gave the Commander a surprisingly detailed report, given the confusion that must be reigning central to the explosion.

"It's the rebels, Sir. They've launched an all out offensive against the plant. We estimate upwards of two hundred soldiers have invaded the complex. A delivery of weapons powder from the refinery was due to arrive. From what we can tell, they waylaid the delivery team and posed as them to get close to the gate. They blew the front gate, and entered in force during the aftermath. Most of the soldiers guarding the gate were either killed or incapacitated. Troop leaders Harthen and Guiles are attempting to hold the main force near the armoury; it appears that is the focus of the raid."

"Rebels?" John interrupted, glaring at Commander Greaves.

"A small faction opposed to the Council's open trading policy with other worlds. They believe we should remain isolated from other cultures. They are a small group of dissidents, who rarely give us much trouble besides creating disruptions to Council proceedings and provoking some of the more gullible of the population. There have been no indications of open warfare before today."

"Don't you think it would have been nice to mention this earlier?" John hissed at the Commander.

"We would have informed you at the appropriate time, Colonel. Unfortunately the rebels seem to have upped the ante. Excuse me." He gave John a cool, albeit not unfriendly, look then returned his attention to the soldier before him.

As John listened to the Commander's instructions, he looked in the direction of the gate where a large cloud of black smoke was starting to dissipate. From where they were located, they didn't have a direct line of sight to the gate, so he could only imagine the scene from the soldiers report. Sounds of battle echoed back to them however, shouts and screams, interspersed with small detonations of gunfire. He started as roughly fifty or so men rounded the corner of the building in front of them. They were wearing long greyish tunics, not the neat brown tunics of the Tranth military. He grabbed Greaves' arm and pointed.

"Seems like the armoury isn't their only objective." He looked around at the Commander's escort and the few soldiers from the experimental weapons building that had stayed with the Commander rather than join the main force fighting at the gate. They numbered perhaps twenty.

"Colonel. Take four of my men and retreat into the building. One of my orders was to get word out to the city. They will have seen the explosion anyway, so they will already be preparing a counter offensive. All we have to do is hold until they get here," the Commander stated briskly. He was already turning back to his men to issue orders when John replied.

"I'm of more use to you here." He shifted his grip on his P-90, an unspoken reminder that he was armed and capable of defending himself.

"You're weapon is superior, Colonel, but with the main force fighting at the gate we are outnumbered. I cannot guarantee your safety." The Commander's words were stern, but there was approval written clearly on his face. John nodded in response to that, rather than the words.

"You can't guarantee my safety in there either."

John inwardly cursed, as he realised the rebel soldiers had seen them, biting his lip in concern as he watched them rush the short distance across the yard to engage the Commander's troops. John fired his P-90 into them, watching as nearly a dozen in the front rank collapsed. He heard a couple of loud bangs next to him, and looked briefly to notice that the Commander and some of his men had fired their own rudimentary pistols at the oncoming soldiers. Unfortunately, some of the rebels were also armed with guns, and four of their own men were now down, either dead or wounded.

The rebel rush was costly, but effective. John snarled in frustration as he realised the enemy forces were too close for him to use his P-90 without endangering his own side due to friendly fire. He quickly discarded his P-90, strapping it back on his vest, and drew out his Beretta. As an afterthought, he grabbed his knife out and held it in his left hand. He had the edge over his opponents, but both sides were fighting using swords, and John knew that his unfamiliarity with this style of fighting left him at a distinct disadvantage. He shot a rebel facing the Commander and turned quickly to take a sword blade on the edge of his knife. The smaller knife was good for little more than slowing the blade down, but it did give John time to kick the man in the stomach. He bought the grip of his Beretta down on the man's skull as he folded over from the force of the kick.

He used the brief respite to glance around, noticing grimly that more than half of their men were now dead. There were only seven of them now, struggling in hand to hand combat with over twenty rebel soldiers. John ducked a sword blow aimed at his head and fired his Beretta at the man in response. As he did, he yelled out a warning to Commander Greaves. His shout did little good, the Commander was engaged with two opponents, and a third had come up behind him and run his sword through Greaves' back. The Commander crumpled slowly, a vaguely regretful look on his face. John didn't have any time to grieve the likable man's death, as the three men that had been fighting the Commander turned towards him. He blocked a sword thrust aimed at his shoulder, and was bringing his Beretta up to shoot when pain exploded in the back of this skull and everything went black.