Visibly bristling, Rodney whirled around, his notebook falling to his side. “And how precisely do you define blasphemy?”
“Ahem.” John tapped his toe in warning. He wanted to wait as long as possible before they inevitably did something to piss these people off. “Let’s get the full story.”
Pointing to the Ancient writings on the stone tablets set in the wall, Kesun said, “Five thousand years ago our world was a peaceful place.”
That didn’t add up. “Five thousand years?” John glanced at Rodney.
“Near as I could tell from our preliminary scan, this planet’s orbit around its sun takes twice as long as Earth’s. So, their years are—”
“Twice as long. Just checking.” He smiled at Kesun and indicated for the man to continue.
“When word of the Wraith reached us, the Ancestors returned to their home in the heavens, Atlantis. One Ancestor, however, remained behind. Her name was Dalera.”
“She stayed to protect you?” John ventured.
Kesun shook his head. “The Ancestors banished her to this world for her sins, and cast the great ring into the heavens.” His eyes looked skyward.
“What exactly were her sins?”
Smiling sadly, he replied, “Dalera fell in love with a man of this world, and bore his children.”
“Hold on a minute,” Rodney demanded. “You mean Dalera, an Ancient, was banished for having children with a human?” He spun to face John. “Do you know what this means?”
“It would explain why these people have the ATA gene.”
The impatient gesture he received in response hinted to John that he wouldn’t have won any money on a Rodney-designed game show with that answer. “Yes, obviously. Try not to strain yourself by looking a little deeper for a change.” He waved his pen around like a weapon. “It also means the Ancients viewed themselves as being superior to mere humans, to such an extent that they placed a taboo on mating with them!”
That wasn’t a particularly happy thought, but they’d been learning new facets of the Ancients everywhere they went. Not all of it cast the architects of Atlantis in an entirely positive light. “One step at a time, okay?” John tossed another, less certain smile in Kesun’s direction.
“When the Wraith came,” Kesun continued, “those who remained on the great hill upon which the Enclave was built were protected by an invisible wall that none could penetrate. Our numbers were few, and the land inside this wall, which extended from where the river divides to where it rejoins once more, was sufficient to feed us.
“Generations passed.” Kesun’s tone had taken on the cadence of a teaching allegory. “Then came the day when the Wraith attacks ceased. Dalera, whose children by then had grown and had children of their own, devised a set of laws that would protect her people for all time. The invisible barrier was removed and a wall built along the shores of the river. The entire island within became known as the Citadel. The people crossed the channels to sow new pastures and to fish the nearby seas. Dalera and her children fashioned many thousands of Shields—”
“Thousands?” Rodney stopped scribbling in his notebook to massage a cramp out of his hand.
“Yes. For as her children and her children’s children went forth and multiplied, each took with them many Shields of Dalera to protect those outside the Citadel should the Wraith return. Dalera also fashioned the transports.” Kesun walked across to another wall and, opening a wooden panel, revealed an Ancient-designed ground plan of the Citadel and surrounding countryside.
The strategy was immediately obvious. Set up the Citadel as a highly defendable fortress, and install transport systems in outlying villages. When the Wraith attacked, the Chosen within the Citadel would create an overlapping coverage with the Shields. The EM fields of the Chosen living in the villages would also activate, forcing the attackers out of the sky and giving farmers and fishermen time to evacuate through the transports ahead of any ground assault.
John had to give the long-departed Dalera credit. Whatever else she might have been, her tactical instincts had been damned good.
“The plan must not have been carried to its ultimate conclusion,” observed Rodney. “Since there’s only one continent, by now the entire planet’s landmass should be protected by a series of cities and villages spread at equidistant points. It would completely forestall any Wraith culling whatsoever.”
“So what went wrong?” John asked.
“It was as you say. Dalera had meant for our world to one day be protected from the evil of the Wraith.” Kesun’s expression darkened. “But as time passed, Dalera left us, and many generations without an attack dispelled the people’s fear of the Wraith. They betrayed Dalera’s memory, breaking her most sacred laws.”
Even without looking, John could tell that Rodney had something to say about that. He stepped in to head off the objection. “Exactly what were these laws?”
“That people who ventured forth from the Citadel to till the lands beyond must only do so in places designated by the Chosen.”
“Based on this defensive plan,” John said, examining the map. “That makes sense.”
Kesun inclined his head in agreement. “Few were willing to travel great distances to settle and farm areas selected by the Chosen simply in the name of protection against an enemy whose horrors none could recall. Instead, they turned barbarian. Abandoning their belief in Dalera, they felled forests and tilled the earth in unprotected places.”
Without technologically sophisticated means of transportation, John could understand why the farmers wouldn’t want to trek for miles to get their goods to the primary market—the Citadel. A sudden thought struck him. “Couldn’t they have used the transports built by Dalera to get their crops to the city?”
“This was done, yes. That is why the Sanctuary Halls have traditionally been used as markets during the times when the Wraith leave our world in peace.” Kesun closed the panel. “Farmers, hunters and fishermen paid the Chosen for this service.”
Rodney shook his head. “Is it me, or does that demonstrate a stunning lack of foresight on the part of a supposedly enlightened being? The system by its very nature creates an imperialistic society with a ruling class based on birth.”
Cursing inwardly, and wishing he could install some kind of tact filter on his teammate, John watched Kesun’s reaction. The Chosen’s once-placid expression had tightened somewhat. He might not have fully understood the terms that Rodney had used, but there was no mistaking the veiled haughtiness in the scientist’s body language. With a glare, John flicked his hand in a ‘knock it off’ gesture.
His bearing more guarded than before, Kesun continued. “The Chosen refused to transport those crops grown in forbidden places. Those who turned their backs on Dalera’s laws became outlaws—barbarians—and responded by setting up their own towns and villages. Time passed and these barbarians dabbled in the black arts, developing Wraithcraft—which is also forbidden under Dalera’s laws.”
“Lovely. Perfect way to ensure the oppression of a society, by inhibiting technological development,” Rodney muttered. “They were called the Dark Ages on Earth for a reason.”
A moment passed as John just looked at him in disbelief. For an intelligent man, McKay could be incredibly shortsighted. “You’re the one who figured out it was our stuff than triggered the alarms,” he reminded him. “With Shields going glowy all the time, their early warning system would be useless. Which means the Wraith could simply attack on foot and get the drop on everyone.”
“It was as you say,” Kesun told them. “For this, the barbarians were banned from the Citadel and the protected lands. But with their Wraithcraft, their numbers multiplied. They settled distant lands until soon there were many more of them than of those who followed the old ways. These barbarians said that Dalera, and indeed Atlantis, was but a myth and the Wraith nothing more than evil lies fostered by the Chosen. They claimed that the Shields were wicked things, meant only to destroy their Wraithcraft, which bes
otted them.”
John had studied enough history to get an idea of where this was headed. It depressed the hell out of him, because it meant that no matter where humans set up shop, they invariably made the same mistakes. Not the kind of thing to give a guy a lot of confidence in the notion of self-determination.
“Dalera is compassionate, but she does not suffer betrayal. For as it is written, the Wraith returned.” The regret that marred Kesun’s face was genuine. John glanced over at Rodney, but he’d gone off in exasperation and was busying himself with a study of the Ancient texts. “From all across Dalera, people fled to the Citadel and sought the protection of the Chosen. But it was refused.”
A mutter that sounded something like ‘naturally’ drifted from Rodney’s direction.
“It was not an easy choice, but it was one that had to be made. With so few followers of Dalera, the Citadel had fallen into disrepair, and the Chosen knew that they could protect only the Enclave.”
For an instant, John felt a flicker of the same ire that Rodney had displayed. The last time he’d faced a choice like that, about who could and couldn’t be saved, it had started him down a road in Afghanistan that hadn’t exactly served him well.
“When the culling was over, those who survived begged our forgiveness. The Chosen emerged from the Enclave, and urged the people to once more follow the righteous ways of Dalera. But through the ages, the sequence of events which led to the tragedy was repeated again and again.” Kesun turned and walked out on the balcony.
John followed, and he realized that they weren’t in the main part of the city anymore, but on the highest point of the Citadel. While the expanse of sky, picture-perfect mountains and surrounding greenery was striking, he was more interested in focusing on what little he could see of the city below. A massive stone bridge, not unlike a smaller version of London’s Tower Bridge, spanned one of the river channels. The square leading onto the bridge seemed alive with activity, as did the cluster of surrounding streets and alleys.
He recalled the semi-controlled chaos that had reigned in some of the garden spots to which he’d been deployed. Earth certainly couldn’t point any fingers when it came to coexistence of divergent beliefs. Humans there had been doing a spectacular job of tearing each other apart for such things all by themselves. Throw a savage alien enemy into the mix, and he counted the Dalerans lucky to still have any semblance of a civilization left.
Leaning on the edge of the balcony, Kesun said, “Your friend does not agree with our ways.”
Glancing back at Rodney, John replied, “They’re foreign to us. Some of us take longer than others to accept the idea that different ways aren’t necessarily wrong.”
“I understand. Although it is the barbarians who bring the Wraith upon us, Dalera charged us to protect all against this most ancient of foes, showing favor no more or less to one or another.” An air of defeat resonated from the Daleran. “Yet we are once more forced to choose, for we are too few to shield all designated villages from attack. Indeed, we are too few to protect even the Citadel.”
Eyes clouding, Kesun turned to face him. “The Wraith have also returned sooner than expected. We prayed to Dalera to give us guidance. When you said you had come from Atlantis, I had believed our prayers were answered. Our situation grows increasingly dire. You see, I am the last of the Chosen. Our hope for the future died when my wife died in childbirth just six months ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” It was a conditioned response, and it wasn’t until after he’d given it that John thought about the wider implications of that statement. “I have to be honest with you. I’m not sure how we can help.”
“You have come through the ring from the city in the heavens. Your very presence here is evidence that our faith is not misplaced.”
Kesun’s expression of faltering confidence was almost painful to witness. The survival of his people was at stake, and everything he had ever believed was telling him to place his faith in strangers. John recalled the distrust they’d faced in the marketplace, and it clawed at his insides to realize that Kesun’s hopes were built on a very tenuous foundation.
“We didn’t come here to prop up your evangelistic little regime.” That harsh declaration came from the doorway, where Rodney stood with folded arms and a sour expression.
That did it. John drew on all the patience he possessed and turned to Kesun. “Would it be all right if my teammate and I took a few minutes to discuss some things?”
The Chosen nodded acquiescence. “Of course. I will wait inside.” His spine rigid with tension, he strode past with barely a glance toward Rodney.
The moment Kesun was out of sight, John spun toward the scientist, making no attempt to curb his irritation. “How hard would it be to bite back those superior comments for just a little while? Would it really be beyond your social skills?”
That triggered a flash of something dark in Rodney’s gaze. “You really think enabling a whole system of misplaced beliefs is a better idea? You did get filled in on the concept behind the Goa’uld at some point, didn’t you?”
John wasn’t about to admit it, but that parallel hadn’t crossed his mind. Having joined the Atlantis expedition at essentially the last minute, his knowledge of the Stargate program back on Earth had some gaps in it.
On an intellectual level, he knew that his expedition existed to discover technologies that could be used to defend their home galaxy against the enslaving Goa’uld. But that long-term view was hard to keep in focus when the short-term frequently challenged them just to stay alive. “It’s not their fault that they don’t have the outside knowledge we do,” he argued. “From their perspective, this all makes sense. When people stray from Dalera’s rules, the Wraith eventually attack, so they naturally connect the two.”
“That’s all very well and good, but there’s a fundamental catch, and it goes like this: correlation does not imply causation.” Rodney stalked further out onto the balcony. “In other words, just because two events happen in close proximity—”
“I know what it means, McKay. You’re not the only one who ever took a lab class.” The switch to his last name made an impression, and Rodney closed his mouth, at least temporarily. “The thing is, the two are correlated,” John continued. “The Wraith can only attack successfully when people settle outside the limits of the shields and transport system that Dalera put in place. We see it as a technological limitation; they see it as a lack of faith. Either way, the end result is the same.”
“They only see it that way because they’ve lost their knowledge of what Dalera really was.” Rodney waved the notebook in his hand. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have deified her.”
“You don’t know that. They view the ATA gene as a mark of favored status—”
“Which is undeniably ludicrous!”
His vehemence shocked John and might have even surprised Rodney himself. After a moment of awkward silence, the scientist continued in a more controlled tone, “The humans who lived here at the time of the Ancients must have realized that they weren’t infallible, because Dalera’s experiments were dismissed as failures.”
“Experiments?”
“Some sort of automated neural interface device, probably to do with ascension. There are mentions of her work all over the place—the writing is quite literally on the wall. But since I’ve currently got no sensors, it’s anyone’s guess as to whether any of her equipment or data still exists.” He waved his hand dismissively. “My point here is that those humans died out. Left behind, Dalera and her offspring did such a bang-up job of running things that everyone got a little too comfortable with the state of affairs. Eventually, if you’ll pardon the reference, the Chosen started to drink their own Kool-Aid.”
The analogy was disturbing, if not altogether unjustified. “Let’s think big picture for a minute,” suggested John. “Flat-out attacking a society’s belief structure is generally not a good first step. I don’t know if you noticed, but there are some very shar
p-looking objects on this planet, and this might just get the wrong end pointed at us.”
Rodney cocked an eyebrow. “Not fond of telling truth to power, are you?”
“They stationed me in Antarctica. Draw your own conclusions.” John trained an unflinching gaze on Rodney until the other man yielded.
“Fine. Let me study the Shields, and I’ll bite my tongue. I just—I find it absurd that an entire civilization can act according to fatally flawed reasoning. Especially the kind that segregates power in one place and one place only.”
There was more to it than that, John suspected, but this wasn’t the right venue to explore it. “Their backs are against a wall, and they’re assuming we’re here to help. We need to find out what they’re open to and try to stay as open as possible ourselves.”
Rodney gave a shrug of indifference and turned toward the balcony door, tossing a last comment over his shoulder. “Incidentally, did our young Lieutenant pick himself up a groupie, or what?”
Smothering a grin, John remembered how Lisera had looked at Ford like he was the ‘cute one’ in a boy band. Taking one last scanning glance over the Citadel, he tried to gauge where that particular Sanctuary Hall might be located. He hadn’t been able to get much of a look at the map inside the transport, something he intended to rectify on the return trip. Teyla and Ford would be getting along famously with their Daleran hosts by now, he was sure. There was no reason to worry or feel guilty about leaving them on their own.
Nope, no reason at all.
Other than the fact that concern and self-recrimination seemed to be built into his job description. There were some distinct downsides to being in charge.
Running a hand through his hair, John sighed and followed Rodney inside.
Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen (Stargate Atlantis) Page 8
