Teyla enjoyed instructing the members of the Atlantis expedition. Fostering a bridge between their peoples seemed to her a noble pursuit, and many of the Marines had shown real aptitude for the fighting style. In truth, she looked forward to sparring against Major Sheppard the most. He listened and learned on a deeper level, and on occasion his resolve and unpredictability would challenge her in refreshing ways. It was another of his many contradictions.
The Major pushed himself upright, climbed to his feet, and offered her a hand up. “Penny for your thoughts?” he said. Perplexed, Teyla went to speak, but his soft laugh stopped her. “A penny is another form of currency.”
The assigning of a token to the value of goods or services was not new to Teyla. Using such tokens to decide one’s fate was, however, a novel concept. “Is it also used for making decisions ?”
If the Major had not been wiping sweat from his brow, she suspected she would have seen his smile. “Not exactly,” he replied, accepting a water bottle from Lieutenant Ford. “You’re still bugged by McKay’s wanting to make the world—well, one world, at least—a better place for all?”
Teyla, too, had accepted a bottle from the Lieutenant. Taking several mouthfuls of water gave her time to consider her reply. “Until the Wraith come.”
“That does kinda have a leveling effect.”
“The Athosians have traded with many worlds. We see no purpose in imposing our ways upon others.” She turned to him. “Is it common for your people to differ widely in their beliefs?”
Sheppard’s lips twisted ruefully. “On Earth there are very few completely unified beliefs about anything. It’s part of our charm.”
“That’s one way to put it,” Ford said quietly. His tone warned Teyla that the Major’s sardonic streak had crept through into his last comment.
“At first, I understood that it was as Dr McKay reminded us in the meeting. Your people came to Atlantis hoping to find ways to defeat an enemy to your world, the Goa’uld.”
“Well, that’s part of it.”
“I had assumed that you had developed a warrior class in order to fight this enemy, but I have since come to understand that few on your planet have knowledge of the Goa’uld. Your battle skills were developed to defend against peoples—nations —on Earth who would impose their will upon one other. Yet you, who are of this warrior class, take the view that it is better to leave the Dalerans to their ways, while Dr McKay, who is not a warrior, believes otherwise.”
Sheppard tilted his head in a restrained shrug. “Rodney’s a theoretical scientist, not an historian.”
“Does your history teach you to respect the ways of others ?”
“Not exactly. It records the consequences when people don’t. Studying the history of conflict is required in our military. I’ve also had a couple of chances to see the results of changing regimes firsthand, and I know it’s not pretty. I’m more of a live and let live kinda guy.”
She found that self-assessment fitting. “I have wondered if the Ancestors would approve of such an evolution of their ideas. They would not have desired to be represented as all-powerful, as the Dalerans have come to believe.”
“I wouldn’t bet money on that.”
Disturbed by his remark, Teyla said, “I do not understand.”
The Major hesitated, as if weighing a choice, then charged ahead. “I’m not convinced that the Ancients were wholly benevolent. For one thing, they bailed out on several occasions, either abandoning one galaxy for another, or ascending. And Ascended or unascended, they weren’t exactly concerned about the welfare of those they left behind. They had no problem with trapping and studying that shadow energy being that Jinto found. I mean, that’s tantamount to abandoning a caged animal. And they set up a Stargate on that foggy James Herbert world with no regard for the thousands, possibly millions of the misty little inhabitants the ‘gate killed every time someone used it.”
“Perhaps the Ancestors were unaware—”
His look forestalled her. It seemed most unlikely that the Ancestors had no knowledge of the nature of the life form on M5S-224. Indeed, for what other purpose could the Stargate have existed on that world unless to study the energy beings?
“Based on the reports I’ve read, the Ancients were researching non-corporeal life-forms long before they left our galaxy. After they ascended, they made some cardinal rule about not helping others.”
“That seems…”Her voice trailed off.
“Selfish? Didn’t we just agree that it wasn’t a good idea to go interfering with people’s beliefs?”
Less certain now, she said, “Helping is not interfering.”
“Depends on your point of view. Rodney thinks he’s helping.”
“I’ve read some of those reports, too,” Ford put in. “Any Ascended who helped anyone on the lower plane, or whatever it’s called, got themselves banished.”
Sheppard grimaced. “Harsh. Isn’t that what happened with that guy from SG-1? You know—archeologist, glasses, briefly dead for a while?” He shifted self-consciously at Ford’s look of disbelief. “What?”
“Dr Jackson,” the Lieutenant supplied with a smile. “I thought you said you’d read some of SG-1’s reports.”
“The military reports, sure. You ever try reading Jackson’s? My book is faster going. Anyway, he managed to get himself demoted to human form for helping.”
“As Dalera was banished for loving a human.” Teyla frowned. “It seems that even amongst themselves the Ancestors did not always agree.”
The Major nodded. “I’d buy that explanation. They could easily have had a wide range of beliefs and conflicting opinions, just as we do.”
His radio signaled then, and Ford picked it up from the bench and tossed it to him. “Sheppard.” Listening for a moment, he nodded. “All right, we’re on our way.” Turning to them he explained, “Beckett wants us in the infirmary. Something about Lisera.”
Gathering her belongings, Teyla followed the two officers out of the room. She was not sure how well she concealed her feelings, but this conversation had unnerved her in a way she could not quite name.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Lisera thinks of herself and her entire family, as barbarians,” explained Carson Beckett. His voice held a mixture of sadness and anger. “She’s utterly convinced that she’s somehow responsible for the Wraith attacks.”
Aiden stared at him. “How?” He didn’t have lot of faith in Beckett’s analysis of the situation. The doctor might be some sort of super-smart biologist, but he was generally too busy blabbing about what he didn’t know or why something wasn’t his fault to pay a lot of attention to what was going on around him. “We’re the ones who woke the Wraith.”
Together with the Major, Teyla and McKay, Aiden was standing with Beckett in the room next to where Lisera was resting. Through the glass door, he could see Dr Weir sitting on the bed, holding her hand. Aiden had planned on visiting Lisera earlier in the evening, but by the time they’d finished debriefing and getting something to eat, he’d been due for his scheduled workout with Teyla.
Leaning toward the Major, McKay wrinkled his nose theatrically. Sheppard shot him an odd look. “What?”
“Nothing.” McKay’s expression said otherwise.
“Many of those boats you saw were not used for fishing,” Beckett continued, “but to explore distant towns that, while now deserted, were once inhabited by people that the Chosen also viewed as barbarians. The crews would scavenge items they could sell in the markets. Things more advanced than they themselves could create.”
“How could this be possible?” Teyla frowned. “What they call Wraithcraft causes the Shields to glow, alerting the Chosen.”
“Yes, but the products of technology wouldn’t necessarily do so,” McKay said. “It would account for those quality steel axes everyone was carrying around. Most of that stuff was cast, not wrought, and you can’t get that kind of temperature in a blacksmith’s wood-burning forge.” He inched toward Aiden and s
niffed experimentally.
Teyla sucked in a deep breath. “It would also explain the many fine goods in the markets.”
“Without warriors patrolling outside the Citadel, no one’s policing their laws.” The Major looked thoughtful.
“The apothecary told us that with the Chosen no longer operating the transports as they once did, many now cart goods into the city across the bridges.” Teyla’s frown deepened.
Nodding in understanding, the Major added, “Contraband has probably been finding its way into the markets for decades.”
“And Lisera’s family,” said Carson, “was involved in the transport of such goods. When the Wraith first put in an appearance, those dealing in Wraithcraft were blamed for having attracted their attentions.”
McKay’s face screwed up. “What is that smell?”
Slowly turning to face him, Sheppard replied, “The result of working out, Rodney, something apparently unfamiliar to you.”
“I would be most pleased if you would care to join us next time.” Teyla’s smile was more predatory than anticipatory. Aiden winced. If McKay ever took her up on the offer, the only thing that would be getting a workout was his backside—as it hit the floor.
Glancing at her sharply, McKay remarked, “What a shock. My assessment was, oh, let’s see, completely accurate. Their idealistic aboriginal culture is—”
“Rodney,” interrupted the Major. “Let’s hear what Lisera has to say before jumping to any conclusions.”
Beckett shook his head. “She became quite distraught, so I gave her a sedative. I have no doubt she’s told Elizabeth the rest of it.” His eyebrows lowered into a deep frown. “Things a girl wouldn’t want to share with a man, if you get my drift. Bloody monarchists by the sounds of it. Sitting in their high and mighty palace, extorting payment for protecting people from the Wraith, but doing naught else while the city turns into a squalid den of murderers and thieves.”
Aiden followed Beckett into the room. On the bed, Lisera was curled up as much as the plaster cast would allow, arms wrapped around herself. When he saw the tear stains on her cheeks, he smiled reassuringly. Despite the sedative, she glanced fearfully at the others. McKay’s lips did that thing that Aiden supposed was meant to be a smile but came off like a bad case of indigestion.
Dr Weir stood from the bed. “Get some rest now, Lisera. We’ll talk again in the morning.”
“As I said,” McKay continued. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his smirk this time. “Me. Right. So it was, and so it ever shall be.”
“Let’s take this discussion elsewhere.” Dr Weir’s warning glance was directed at McKay.
“I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Beckett said. “I want to check the results of Lisera’s blood work.”
Lisera’s eyelids began to droop. “Aiden?”
Leaning down, he took her hand. “I’ll bring you some breakfast.”
“Do you promise?”
“Sure. Haven’t broken my word yet, have I?”
Aiden didn’t fail to notice Dr Weir’s concerned look as the five of them went to the briefing room. Neither did he fail to notice McKay’s smugness, and Teyla’s troubled expression.
When the ornate doors closed behind them, Dr Weir took a seat, rested her elbows on the table and briefly ran her hands across her face. Her eyes were red and puffy and her voice sounded thick with a cold. “What did you say was the name of the chief?”
“Balzar.” Sheppard pulled a chair out and sat down. “Why?”
“He threatened to tell the Chosen that Lisera’s family brought the Wraith upon them by trading in Wraithcraft.”
“Yes, we got that,” McKay said impatiently.
Taking a deep breath, Dr Weir added, “What you didn’t get was what Balzar demanded of her mother, and then Lisera, in return for saying nothing and allowing them to enter the transport to the Citadel.”
A swift silence fell over the room. No one needed her to explain further.
“What?” McKay was incredulous. Unfolding his arms, he sat forward in indignation and blurted, “She’s just a kid!”
The look in Teyla’s eyes was nothing short of murderous. Not that Aiden was feeling any less inclined to rip Balzar limb from limb, but even he was surprised at her vehemence when she spat, “Such creatures as Balzar are not fit to be called human. They do not feed from hunger, as the Wraith do, but gorge themselves on fear.”
Well, at least McKay and Teyla had found something on which they could agree.
Lips pinched in barely controlled anger, Dr Weir continued, “Lisera ran away from him and tried to take refuge in the city. Faced with starvation, she returned to find her mother had been taken by the Wraith. The Chosen have apparently made it clear that they will protect only those who truly believe in Dalera—which Lisera’s mother had not. Lisera left the Citadel and has been living in the forest near the ocean ever since. So the Chosen’s system isn’t functioning as well as it may have seemed.”
Dr Weir pulled a tissue from a box she’d placed on the table. “Did any of you see anything outside the marketplace?”
“I believe,” McKay said, sitting back with his arms folded, “the term ‘mortal danger’ was bandied about, so no.”
Apologizing, Dr Weir blew her nose. “Still, leaders generally aren’t as important in a society as they’d like to think they are. What about their bureaucracy?”
“We didn’t get much of a feel for their infrastructure,” replied the Major. “We need to take a look around the place.”
McKay was practically preening. If the issue at hand had been any less grim, Aiden suspected that they would have been treated to some kind of victory dance. “If anyone would care to recall my varied and eloquent comments throughout the mission, warning of precisely this circumstance, I’ll be accepting apologies in the form of coffee rations.”
“You’ve made your point,” Sheppard muttered, turning his chair to face Dr Weir. “So what’s the game plan for our next visit? Offering the Dalerans better transportation won’t fix the corruption that’s probably running wild.”
“For right now, caution is the operative word. We don’t fully know what we’re dealing with yet.”
Without forethought, Aiden spoke up. “Ma’am, what about Lisera? We can’t just take her back and leave her there.”
Dr Weir’s expression made him apprehensive even before she answered. “As much as I despise the situation, we can’t afford to take in any more refugees. I’m sure we can work out something so that Lisera won’t be left to fend for herself. Perhaps Kesun would accept payment of some sort to make sure she’s taken care of until she can walk again.”
His protest would have been impassioned, but McKay’s was faster and, for better or worse, sharper. “That strategy could be compared to upgrading her steerage ticket on the Titanic.”
Before McKay could add anything, the leader of the Atlantis expedition captured them all with an iron-willed gaze that was undiminished by her cold. Aiden hadn’t known what to make of Dr Elizabeth Weir at first. But back when she’d led Stargate Command he’d learned that, while her standard demeanor was gracious, she had the capacity for nearly limitless resolve. “Understand me,” she said, her words deliberate. “I have been in more refugee camps than I can count, and each time I’ve wished that I could save every person there. Major, Lieutenant, I know you’ve had similar experiences. There’s always an exception, one child that you become personally involved with on some level, one you feel you have to find a way to save. But you’ve been trained to recognize that choices have to be made.”
Aiden glanced across the table at the Major and saw that his assessment reluctantly matched Dr Weir’s. That, and his own admittedly limited experience in such situations, didn’t make it any easier to stomach.
“Right now,” she continued, “the best thing that we can do to help these people, and all of the people in this galaxy, is to find a way to defeat the Wraith. As much as it tears us up, we have to accept our limi
tations and do the best we can within them. We’re hard pressed just keeping ourselves alive here, and if the Wraith are coming, Lisera will be in as much danger on Atlantis as on her home world.”
It was a painfully rational standpoint. McKay breezed past it without missing a beat. “Which brings us back around to the original argument, because the only thing that has any chance of protecting the Dalerans from the Wraith in the short term is the gene therapy.”
“And how will that help restore their society?” Teyla asked pointedly.
The scientist swiveled his seat toward her. “Now I’m getting whiplash. Are we in favor of the laissez faire approach, or aren’t we?”
“We’re still weighing options, Rodney, so have some patience.” Dr Weir brushed her hair back with a weary hand. “The social implications are not the only potential consequences here.”
The doors slid open to admit Dr Beckett, who hovered in the back rather than take a seat at the table. “Carson, your timing’s impeccable,” McKay greeted him brusquely. “Elizabeth was just about to raise a concern that the gene therapy might pose some kind of health hazard to the Dalerans.”
That seemed like a big leap to Aiden, but Dr Weir gave a slight nod of admission. “Isn’t it possible that their biology might differ from ours in some minor respect?”
“Aye, but right now it’s not the differences that trouble me so much as the similarities.” Beckett twisted a pen in his hands, looking uncertain. “I’ve run a number of tests on Lisera, both for the purposes of treating her and of learning whatever we can about the other inhabitants of this galaxy. The results were a bit of shock, to say the least, but it’s been confirmed. Lisera has the ATA gene.”
The energy in the room abruptly changed, as five heads swung toward the doctor. Their collective shock reigned in silence until Sheppard leaned forward. “Okay, I’ll be the one to say it. What the—?”
“How is that possible?” Dr Weir demanded.
“The ATA gene, although rare, exists in the human population on Earth, doubtless for the same reasons.” Beckett pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “As I understand it, there were times throughout Daleran history when children born with the gene were put to death, along with their mothers.”
Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen (Stargate Atlantis) Page 12
