Title: G is for Weather Gauge

Author: Jedi Buttercup

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Summary: La Moor had spoken to ambassadors from Earth many times since their people had first walked through Madrona's Stargate. 700 words.

Spoilers: Stargate SG-1 2.14, "Touchstone" and 7.14, "Fallout"

Notes: Originally posted to LJ on Feb. 18, for SG-1 Allies gen alphabet soup. We never see the 'primitive, peaceful' Madronans again after "Touchstone", but they're mentioned as a culture with enough infrastructure to take in the Langarans if necessary during "Fallout"; I thought that was interesting, since fanon usually offers up the Land of Light as a destination for refugees!

La Moor had spoken to ambassadors from Earth many times since their people had first walked through Madrona's Stargate, but she had seldom had occasion to frown at them since they had returned the stolen Touchstone and thus begun their long and fruitful alliance.

"You are certain?" she asked, pausing just outside the entrance of the Temple to confirm the Major's words. "We had already begun to allocate space and supplies; I assure you, it would be no trouble to house and feed your friends for as long as may be necessary."

It would not be the first time La Moor's people had taken in refugees from other allies of Earth beset by conquering armies or natural disasters; with a perfectly controlled climate and a history of protection rather than domination, Madrona boasted a large population that wanted for little. She had learned much in the years since her people's first eventful introduction to the worlds beyond the Stargate, first as her uncle's heir and then as his successor, and knew they were in a rare position; Earth did have other friends, some just as peaceful and many more powerful, but very few had such resources to spare. They had begun to trade much of their excess since the awakening of the Stargate, but the Touchstone allowed them to cultivate as much land as they had hands to spare. And there were always hands to spare among those new come to her world's great gardens.

Many of the refugees would leave again, when the disaster was over; they always did, returning to their homes or building anew on uninhabited worlds. But many would also stay, contributing their strengths to the harmony of Madrona. Whatever resources might be spent on sheltering these Langarans, La Moor was certain her people would only benefit in the long term.

But the Major only shook his head. His hat, removed earlier in respect for the Temple, had been tucked under his arm; the bright summer sun struck warm highlights in his dark hair, reminding her of the still uncomfortable weight of the formal priests' headdress pressing down on her brow.

"And they were very grateful for your offer, Princess; but they have chosen not to take advantage of it at this time. There is still a chance they may be able to save their world, and they have decided to devote all their energies to that end," he said, measuring his words carefully.

That was only half-truth, she judged, though prettily spoken. Not all of Earth's people were as bluntly spoken as the first four visitors- which had its charms, as well as its detractions. But she could gauge the direction of the wind herself. The Langarans would not be the first to resent the necessity of retreat. Even in her peaceful culture, untainted by the Goa'uld whose influence had poisoned both rock and soul on Langara, individuals had their pride; the Earthers had not needed to teach them of that. But should the Langarans change their minds, Madrona would still be there.

"Then I wish them fair weather for their endeavors," she said, bowing very slightly and pressing her palms together. "Please let us know if the situation becomes more urgent."

"We thank you for your patience, and your generosity." He bowed back more deeply, bending his knees as was proper, and gave the customary words of farewell. "May there always be peace between our two worlds." Then he donned his hat again and approached the ceremonial guards at the end of the path, who deactivated the new security measure the Earthers called an iris and touched the Gate symbols for his home.

La Moor waited under the high, arching columns of the Temple entryway until he was gone, then turned and walked back inside. The scientists currently studying the Touchstone smiled at her passage; she nodded in return, but did not pause for conversation as she might normally have done. She was needed in the administrative precincts; preparations for the newest influx would have to be shelved.

And then- perhaps a tour of the traders' district. It was scheduled to be a clear day, and there was always new growth to be found.