All of which made his blatant lie about their intentions harder to maintain. Traders? Yeah, right. The pitiful collection of routine equipment he and Ford had laid out for inspection gave them away, and he was beginning to feel more than embarrassed by Ford’s lame attempts at selling the wonders of their equipment.
“This here’s called a Swiss Army Knife,” he explained, picking up the knife and pulling out one of its blades. “You can cut with it, and there’s a little nail file, and scissors—”
Teyla was clearly unconvinced and interrupted the sales pitch. “What is this?” she asked, pointing at one of their ration bars.
“Oh, that’s called a power bar,” Ford enthused, glancing at Sheppard with a glint in his eye. “It gives you power.” He held it out to Teyla, who seemed impressed as she studied the silver wrapping.
It gives you power? Oh please. Irritated, Sheppard snatched the bar out of Ford’s hand and flung him an angry look. “It’s just food, ma’am,” he told Teyla curtly, “that’s all it is. Here, try it if you like.”
Teyla took the bar and sniffed at it, her nose wrinkling. He didn’t blame her. They weren’t called emergency rations for nothing. Her dark gaze drifted toward her companion – Toran – and for a moment they exchanged an unreadable look.
“I do not believe they are traders,” Toran said after a moment.
Sheppard gave him ten-out-of-ten for observation; their traveling salesman act wasn’t fooling anybody. He was about to offer an explanation when Colonel Sumner ducked back under the tent flap, glancing around the room with obvious disdain before eyeballing Sheppard and making his way over. “Sorry to break up the party, kids,” he drawled, barely looking at Teyla as he spoke. “Sheppard, there are some ruins down in the valley that look more promising than anything these folks have to offer. Plenty of shelter, nice little valley…”
“No one has lived there for many generations,” Teyla interrupted, chin lifting.
Sumner swung his gaze down to her. “Why not?”
“The city of the Ancestors is not safe.” It was Toran who spoke, his irritation evident, his tone cold and clipped.
“We can handle ourselves.”
“The Wraith will come.” There was real fear in the man’s voice, a cold dread that ran icy fingers up Sheppard’s spine.
“And there’s that word again,” he said quietly, aiming the comment at Sumner.
The Colonel took the hint, although without much interest. “Who are these Wraith?”
Teyla and Toran just stared at them in silence, as if they’d asked who was Santa Claus. Sheppard glanced over at Ford and the kid offered a slight shrug.
Cautiously, Teyla said, “We have never met anyone who did not know.”
“You have now,” Sumner told her.
Her expression was a mix of envy and disbelief. “If the Wraith have never touched your world,” she said quietly, “you should go back there.”
The icy chill running up Sheppard’s spine turned into a fully-fledged shiver.
“We’d like to,” Sumner said coldly, “but we can’t.” He paused for a beat, considering how much to reveal. “Look, here’s the thing, ma’am. We’ve got ourselves into a bit of a bind, and we may need a safe place to stay for a while.”
Teyla accepted the information without comment, but her open features were clouded with uncertainty. “Our people have long believed that the Wraith will come if we venture into the old city,” she said cautiously. And then, with more determination, “But it is a belief we’ve not tested in some time.”
Sumner didn’t answer, his eyes falling on Sheppard. “Gentlemen…” Without further comment, he ducked back outside. Sheppard flung an apologetic smile at Teyla, who nodded slightly, before he followed Ford out of the tent.
The Colonel was waiting for them, glancing around the waking village with thinly disguised contempt. “Look, I don’t care what they say,” he said in a low voice. “That city is worth a look. Not to mention the possibility that there could be ZPMs there that these people don’t know or care about.”
His attitude was familiar; Sheppard had seen it a dozen times in various parts of the world. It was so easy to dismiss the beliefs and experiences of a ‘primitive’ people and to rely on the firepower of a dozen P90s instead. Sumner needed to wake up; they weren’t in Kansas anymore. Or even Afghanistan. “What if these Wraith are the enemy that Ancient hologram lady was talking about?”
“All the more reason we need a defensible position should we have to abandon Atlantis,” Sumner said. So much for listening to local intel… “Stay here and find out what you can. Ford, you head back to the gate and report in to Weir. Tell her we’ll have an answer for her in a few hours.”
With that Sumner strode off through the ragged encampment to join the two security teams. Sheppard watched him for a moment, watched the overconfident swagger, the clipped orders as the Colonel gestured toward the city, and couldn’t shake the feeling that they were making a huge mistake. Sumner was treating this as just another mission, but he was a fool. This was a new world – a new galaxy – and they had no idea, no idea at all, what they were getting into.
With a sigh, he turned away and headed back toward the tent. At least with Sumner out of the way he might get further with Teyla. While the Colonel was busy looking for things to help them, Sheppard had a feeling that allies would ultimately be of greater use. They needed a guide, someone who could help them make sense of this galaxy in which they found themselves, and right now Teyla Emmagan and her people were their best shot.
So, taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, he pushed past the flap and back into the tent. Teyla and Toran were talking quietly, but stopped as he entered to watch him cautiously. “Well,” he said, “I guess it’s just you and me…” Then, with a glance at Toran, he added, “and him.”
Teyla ignored his attempt at humor and said, “Your leader looks through me as if I were not there.”
She was right. He cocked his head. “Do I?”
“No.” After a beat she added, “You truly cannot return to your world?”
“No.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “Then there is something you should see…”
The something turned out to be quite a hike from the village. The forest was dense and foot-tangling, and Teyla weaved her way through it with the grace of a predator. If necessary, Sheppard imagined, she could disappear into the forest like mist on a hot day. She never put a foot wrong, never tripped or stumbled, and was consistently a couple of paces ahead of him. He had the feeling she was deliberately slowing her pace, but it was fast enough and he found himself breathing hard. Should’ve spent more time at the gym… “How far is this place?” he gasped at last, struggling up a hill after Teyla.
“Not far,” she called back.
“Define ‘far’.”
She turned at that, smiled, and with a raised eyebrow handed him back his power bar. “Here.”
He grinned. She had a sense of humor; he liked that. Ripping open the wrapper, he offered her half the bar. But perhaps the scent of artificial lemon flavoring had already reached her, because she grimaced and pulled a piece of fruit from the satchel slung across her shoulder and took a bite. Truth be told, she had the right idea. In a silence that grew increasingly companionable they kept walking through the trees until, at last, he saw a short wall of rock ahead of them.
“In here?” he asked as they drew nearer.
Teyla stopped and nodded, but her eyes were fixed on the craggy rock face. The sandy colored stone was broken in sharp angles, and vines and other forest life spread across much of the escarpment. A narrow, barely visible path sliced through the dense undergrowth, and without word Teyla led the way along the trail. “I have not come here for many years,” she told him quietly.
He followed and after a moment saw a low, narrow doorway that had been cut into the rock. It seemed to have been a natural cave that had been widened and squared off, now hidden behind the brush. Teyla push
ed her way past, inviting him to join her with a look as she stepped through the entrance and disappeared into the dark. Sheppard hesitated. There could, literally, be anything inside the cave and entering it without backup was probably pretty dumb. Sure, he trusted Teyla – but tactically speaking…
Tactically speaking it came down to trust. Did he trust Teyla? Truth was he did. His gut told him that she and her people were trustworthy, and if they were ever going to make friends here, they’d better start with a little trust. It was all give and take; if he trusted Teyla, she’d be more inclined to trust him. Sumner might have his ass for breaching protocol, but he had ordered him to find out everything he could…
Taking a deep breath, Sheppard decided to choose trust over suspicion and, keeping his weapon at the ready, headed into the cave after Teyla.
“I used to play in here as a child,” she said. If she’d noticed his hesitation, she didn’t comment. “I believe it’s where the survivors hid from the Wraith during the last great attack.”
The only illumination came from the flashlight on Sheppard’s P90. It cast harsh shadows about the small room, bouncing off rough-hewn stone and dust. The air was stale and cold. He still didn’t know who these Wraith were, but he could imagine the fear of the survivors hiding in this dank cave and waiting to be discovered. He could almost taste the tang of desperation in the air.
Apparently unaffected by the ghosts of her own people, Teyla had found an old torch; clearly these folks had no power beyond fire. But the warmth of its light would be welcome in this forbidding place, and so Sheppard reached into his vest for a lighter. He couldn’t help thinking that he might impress her at last with his ability to instantly create fire. “Here,” he offered, “let me—”
Teyla smiled that dry smile of hers. “We mastered fire long ago,” she said, pulling out what looked like a penlight. With a flick of her thumb, a scarlet laser zapped out and onto the torch, which lit instantly.
“I can see that.” So much for impressing her…
Still smiling, Teyla offered him the device. Too bad they weren’t here to trade, this would be handy on a— Suddenly something caught his attention, something glowing half-buried beneath a decade of dust. Reaching down, he pulled a dainty necklace from the dirt. “What’s this?”
“I lost it years ago,” Teyla gasped softly. “How did you…?”
“Caught my eye. Must have reflected the torchlight.” He noticed Teyla’s look of genuine delight, and because he’d been raised to be a gentleman he held out the necklace and said, “May I?”
Her smile deepened, and she turned around, sweeping her hair up to allow him to fasten the clasp. It really was the gentlemanly thing to do, he reminded himself, trying not to pay too much attention to the elegant sweep of her neck. Instead he focused his eyes on the— “Whoa,” he breathed. “Someone’s been busy.”
The wall ahead of them was covered in pictures. At first glance they looked like the scratchings of a child, until you looked more deeply and understood the images. They were no innocent childhood sketches, but the brutal history of a people.
“The drawings in the caves are extensive,” Teyla said quietly, moving away from him and bringing the light of the torch closer to the pictures. “Many must date back thousands of years or more.”
Thousands of years? Sheppard joined her at the wall, running his fingers over an image that seemed to depict the annihilation of a vast city. He could see people screaming, running, and what looked like some kind of energy weapon sweeping the city itself. “This represents the destruction of your city?”
Teyla shook her head. “This drawing far predates that.”
“Then…what?” It made no sense. “Someone knew it was going to happen?” This was beginning to sound more and more like science fiction.
“No,” Teyla said, turning to face him. In the flickering light of the torch her dark eyes shone brightly, at once sad, proud and resilient. “I believe it happens again and again. The Wraith allow our kind to grow in number, and when that number reaches a certain point they return to cull their human herd.”
Herd? Human herd? There was no question in his mind now, these had to be the terrible enemy the Ancient hologram had described. And they were still out here…
“Sometimes a few hundred years will pass before they awaken again, sometimes it is even longer…” Teyla added. “But the end is always the same.”
Sheppard’s eyes locked on the picture, on the crudely scratched images of dying men, women and children. He felt cold, and not just from the chill of the cave. “Why don’t you go somewhere else?” he asked at last, knowing it must be a stupid question. If they could, they would. Right?
“We have visited many, many worlds,” Teyla sighed. “I know of none untouched by the Wraith.” For a moment she eyed him strangely, then added in a different tone, “The last great holocaust was five generations ago but still they return in smaller numbers, to remind us of their power. My mother was taken three years ago.”
Her mother. “Hell of a way to live.”
She shrugged. “We move our hunting camps around. We try to teach our children not to live in fear, but it is hard.”
Hard didn’t even begin to describe it. These people lived with the certain knowledge of a holocaust hovering above their heads every day of every year; their children grew up knowing that their entire world could be wiped out at any time. That wasn’t living – that was nothing but surviving.
“Some of us can sense the Wraith coming, that gives us warning,” Teyla added more brightly. Then, glancing toward the entrance to the cave, she added, “We should go, it’ll be dark soon.”
Huh? “The sun just came up six hours ago,” Sheppard protested. But when Teyla cast him a curious look and he grimaced at his own ignorance. Ah, right… “Alien planet.”
Flashing another of her half-bemused, half-amused smiles Teyla simply led the way back to the entrance. This time Sheppard didn’t hesitate to follow her, but as he watched the drawings fade back into darkness he couldn’t prevent a shiver from racing up his spine.
This enemy – these Wraith – were out there, and dollars to donuts they had their eye on Atlantis…
It felt as though everyone was holding their breath. No one was moving, everyone was talking in hushed tones, as if even their voices might drain more of the precious power that kept the ocean at bay. Or perhaps everyone was listening for the first signs of trouble, a creak or groan as the city began to drown in earnest.
Shaking herself, Elizabeth Weir banished the dismal thoughts and fixed her eyes more determinedly on the silent Stargate. They’d heard nothing since Lieutenant Ford’s last communication; Sumner’s team had made contact with the locals and would soon be able to determine if they’d found themselves a lifeboat. But Weir was beginning to worry that if they didn’t get back soon she would run out of time to explore other options. Weir was sure they’d find sanctuary somewhere out there, but what were the odds of it being on the very first world they visited? Slim, to say the least. And yet with the clock ticking they might have no choice. Beggars, as the saying went, could not be choosers.
That it should come to this… To find exactly what they’d dreamed of, and then to be forced to give it up within hours of arrival. How could she let that happen? Not for the first time since she’d stepped through the Stargate, Weir found herself wondering if someone else – Dr. Jackson, perhaps – would have been a better choice for mission leader. Someone with tactical experience, someone who might have some clue of what to do right now…
Behind her she heard footsteps slowing. She recognized them as Dr. McKay’s and turned to face him. While second-guessing herself was all well and good, she had an absolute duty to keep her worries to herself. These people deserved a leader, and that’s exactly what she’d give them.
McKay stood outside the small room where Weir had retreated, and was watching her with a somber face. At his side stood Dr. Grodin, equally grim.
“Tell me so
me good news, Rodney,” she said quietly.
He shrugged slightly and stepped into the room. “I can’t do that.”
And he wasn’t going to soft-soap it either, she liked that.
“We’ve successfully managed to interface two auxiliary generators,” Grodin offered, without great conviction, “but it’s nowhere near enough.”
Damn it. “This shield has held back the ocean for centuries—”
“And probably would have kept going for years more,” McKay cut in, “but our arrival changed that. Now it’s nothing more than a thin shell between the buildings and the water.”
“We stopped all exploring—”
“The damage was already done,” he snapped. “Another section on the far side of the city flooded an hour or so ago.”
“Even occupying this room is draining power,” Grodin added.
We came, we saw, we destroyed…
McKay shifted nervously, his gaze flitting between her and the gate, as if he dreaded what he had to say next. “We need to evacuate the moment Colonel Sumner reports back it’s safe.”
His words hung in the air for a long, heavy moment. At last Weir spoke, “You’re saying we have to abandon the city—”
“The sooner we leave, the longer that shield will hold.”
Grodin sighed heavily. “We’ll have come all this way for nothing.”
“Not if we find a solution out there,” said McKay, his eyes once more fixed on the Stargate. For all his irritability and frustrations, he at least was looking at the silver lining. There was still hope. While they were alive, there was still hope.
Abruptly a tremor rippled through the floor, forcing Weir to grab at the wall to keep from losing her balance. Her eyes locked briefly with McKay’s, who looked frightened but determined.
“I agree,” she said firmly. “It will only be for nothing if we die along with this city.”
She wasn’t going to let that happen. Whatever else she did, she’d get her people out, and then, together, they’d find a way to reclaim this city. However long it took…
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