Stargate Atlantis: The Chosen (Stargate Atlantis)

by Whitelaw, Sonny

  Nodding in comprehension, Dr Weir said, “Parents would then have gone to great lengths to avoid having their children tested, until a culture of fear became ingrained in the entire population.”

  Sheppard shook his head. “If there are enough others out there with the gene, they’ve got a perfectly capable defense against the Wraith hiding in plain sight. Unbelievable.”

  “What do we do now?” Aiden had to ask.

  “We test them. As many as possible.” McKay cut off Teyla’s objection before she could respond to Dr Weir’s immediate look of doubt. “Their society is unsustainable without ATA-capable people, and the only way to bring those with the gene to light is to test them. You can continue to shake your head at me, but only if futility is your thing, because I can assure you that I’m very practiced at tuning out misguided opposition.”

  “And if there are only a handful of others besides Lisera?” Dr Weir asked.

  “Then gene therapy is still an option.” That statement came from Beckett, not McKay, and caught the rest of the group off-guard. “I realize that we’re not comfortable with the idea of forcing change on these people,” he added, pouring himself a glass of water. “But if it comes down to a choice between defying their beliefs and leaving them as victims of a corrupted oligarchy and eventual prey for the Wraith, I’m afraid I have to agree with Rodney.”

  “Try not to sound so enthusiastic about that,” McKay muttered.

  “You know, this could work for us,” the Major commented thoughtfully. When both women pinioned him with stares, he raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, none of this was my brilliant idea. And I’m not suggesting we dive right into the gene therapy. All I’m saying is that Lisera being a Chosen might be useful in changing some attitudes. She’s been brainwashed into thinking she’s responsible for the Wraith. The simple fact that she’s been to Atlantis should undermine that and simultaneously elevate her position. It might give Kesun an edge to convince everyone to convert.”

  McKay’s eyes grew huge. “So you’d just use her to continue propagating this insanity?”

  “Tone down the indignation, would you?” Sheppard glared at him. “I’m trying to back you up, if you hadn’t noticed.”

  “And thanks ever so much for that, but it’s a near-certainty that I’ve thought this through farther than you have, so kindly stop helping.” Still facing a less than receptive audience, McKay continued. “We can tell Kesun the truth. Since we don’t have taboos on touching Ancient objects, we discovered Lisera’s gene when she came to Atlantis. In Kesun’s mind, this will just confirm what he already believes, that there may be others who have the gene naturally. He’d have a good reason to test a lot more people.”

  McKay hadn’t been kidding about thinking this through, but Dr Weir didn’t look convinced. “Touching the Shields would require them to overcome a deeply entrenched cultural taboo.”

  “Which Kesun is already in favor of rescinding.” Sheppard drummed long fingers against the table top, considering. “He was also happy for Lisera to come here, citing the fact that Atlantis is a place where healers come from.”

  “All of which fits in with our vaunted goal of not disturbing their delicate belief structure.” McKay looked at Teyla as if challenging her to disagree. “And if the Chosen do object, we’ll know for certain that they’re not the idealists they claim to be.”

  The team members traded glances, weighing each other’s reactions. At last, Aiden spoke up. “I gotta say, Doc, you’re sneakier than you look.”

  “No argument on that,” the Major agreed.

  “Thank you. I try.”

  Teyla still seemed uneasy, possibly more so than before. Dr Weir picked up on her discomfort immediately. “Teyla, don’t be afraid to say what you’re thinking. This may not have started out as the most democratic effort—” She leveled a stern look at McKay. “—but I want us all on the same chapter at least before we proceed.”

  McKay spread his hands wide. “Yes, if you have a more palatable method of protecting these people from the Wraith, by all means.”

  The Athosian continued to hesitate, her features set, but her eyes were turbulent. “I do not feel confident in this,” she said at last. “It is difficult for me to see the point at which an act of this kind ceases to be mere assistance and becomes interference. But I cannot disagree with the goal—to protect them from the Wraith.” She directed a pointed gaze at Rodney. “And while I do not agree with the manner in which the Chosen offer or deny protection from the Wraith, I do not believe we should blindly attempt to change these people’s way of life.”

  “Then we proceed with caution. Let’s see how many undiscovered Chosen are out there before we make any bolder plans.” Dr Weir pulled another tissue from the box. “When you return to Dalera, demonstrate Lisera’s ability and approach Kesun with the offer to help test the populace. But that’s as far as we go for now.”

  From his vantage point in the doorway, Carson Beckett watched his young patient devour her breakfast. Lieutenant Ford sat nearby, munching on an energy bar.

  “Do you think there is food of this kind in the Enclave?” Lisera asked between bites. “Or such fine clothing?”

  Ford offered a shrug, and Carson could tell he was marveling at the notion of infirmary scrubs being thought of as ‘fine.’ “I don’t know. I guess it’s probably pretty nice in there.”

  “And I will see it with my own eyes.” The girl’s face glowed. “To think that I have lived eight seasons and never knew until now that I was of the Chosen! I know not how I have found favor with Dalera, but I give thanks for it.”

  “Yeah, it’s a miracle.” Ford forced a smile. Lisera appeared too excited to notice his hesitation.

  “You will visit me, won’t you, Aiden? I must find a way to show you the Enclave. Surely Dalera would not turn away a warrior of Atlantis.”

  Carson decided to step in and rescue the Marine. “Looks as though you’re ready to go home, lass,” he said, moving into the room. “I’ve got you a pair of crutches—sticks to use if you have to walk. In fifty days that cast can come off, and you’ll soon be ready for dancing.”

  Lisera bowed her head toward him. “I thank you, Doctor. All of you have given me so much.”

  Perhaps he was imagining it, but her bearing seemed to have changed somewhat. Armed with the knowledge of her supposed birthright, Lisera drew herself taller in the bed. There was a spark of pride in the lass for the first time since she’d arrived.

  Ford took the chance to stand up. “Lisera, I have to talk to Dr Beckett for a minute. We’ll be just over there, all right?”

  When she nodded, he ushered Carson to an empty corner of the infirmary.

  “What’s bothering you, Lieutenant?”

  “It’s like she’s forgotten about how bad things were for her up until a couple of days ago.” Ford gestured uncertainly. “How can she really want to go back?”

  “Lisera’s got reason to think things will be different now, at least for her.” Carson gave a wistful smile. “And no matter how extraordinary a place this is, there’s no substitute for home.”

  The Lieutenant conceded that point, and the two men stood in uneasy silence for a moment. They hadn’t worked all that well together during the storm; both would confess to that, the doctor was sure. Somehow, though, they’d hammered out a truce even before the sun had broken through the clouds.

  “You get homesick, Doc?” Ford asked.

  “Aye, that I do,” Carson answered readily. “Terribly so, sometimes. Don’t you?”

  “Sure. It’s just that you’re the only senior member I’ve ever heard admit to it.”

  “They’ve all got their reasons, I suspect. Dr Weir won’t show it because of her position. Rodney won’t show it because of his personality.”

  “What about the Major?”

  “Most likely a bit of both.” As head physician, Carson had seen Sheppard’s personnel file, but it wasn’t his place to explain that the man hardly had a home to
miss.

  Ford nodded, glancing back at Lisera. “We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

  Carson sighed. “I hope so. I don’t much like the idea of allowing any kind of divine-right imperialistic nonsense to continue, I’ll admit. Part of my heritage. But they don’t pay me to make those kinds of decisions.”

  “That would be the difference between you and me, Carson,” said Rodney, entering the infirmary with his mission gear. “I see no reason to let my job description dictate when I can and can’t point out the error of someone’s ways.”

  “Packing lighter this time?” Ford asked him with a vague smirk.

  “Is my hearing impaired, or am I getting a lecture on adaptability from a Marine?”

  “Marines are the most adaptable people you’ll ever meet.”

  “Ah, yes, of course. You’re equally capable of using either the big gun or the small gun.” Rodney cemented his last-word status by turning to Carson. “Is Lisera ready?”

  “She is. Have a good trip.”

  Carson gave Lisera a winning smile as the Lieutenant and Rodney wheeled her out of the room and toward the jumper bay. He didn’t feel he knew enough about the planet to hope for a specific outcome, so as usual, he’d settle for his comrades coming home without need of his attention. In the meantime, he had some genes to replicate.

  CHAPTER NINE

  As soon as the jumper exited the Stargate, John glanced over his shoulder. The expression on Lisera’s face was very different to the one she’d worn leaving Dalera just two days earferent to the one she’d worn leaving Dalera just two days earlier. Clean, well fed, and sporting a leg cast decorated with good wishes in nine different languages, she looked and sounded like a normal teenager, which was a very welcome change.

  Beside him, Rodney was practically glowing with pride. Not only had the man been proven correct yet again, he was performing surprisingly well in his first-ever spaceflight lesson in the jumper. It was an impressive sight, he had to admit. There was a thin, almost transparent blue ring of dust surrounding the planet, contrasting sharply with the stark blackness beyond. And the stars—God, the stars. He’d never realized before his first jumper ride how many stars the sky could hold. Maybe there were a few pilots back on Earth who didn’t dream of exactly this opportunity, but John didn’t know any. The best perk by far of this galactic boondoggle was the chance to fly what, though might not be the sexiest looking thing in the air, sure as hell had to be the coolest.

  The only one on his team who seemed to be sitting silent and pensive was Teyla. Just as evident as Rodney’s excitement was the Athosian’s troubled countenance. On one level, John was glad that he was sensitized to each of his team members’ moods, but on another he couldn’t afford to let the current tensions continue unchecked. They were all on a sharp learning curve, having to accommodate unprecedented situations without so much as an out-of-date guidebook. Even Teyla, who had started out as their roving ambassador, had had to deal both with their alien Earth culture and with having some deep holes punched into her preconceived ideas about everyone from the Genii to the Ancients.

  Right now, he was just hoping that everything went smoothly on this second visit to Dalera. Rodney might have had the right idea—although John would be damned if he said that out loud, seeing as McKay was already saying it enough for everyone —but John also had enough personal experiences stashed away in the recesses of his memory to suspect that Teyla wasn’t altogether wrong.

  “Okay” he said to Rodney. “I have the controls.”

  “Oh, c’mon!” his teammate whined. “At least let me fly it down through the atmosphere.”

  John smirked at the lack of eloquence. He’d long suspected that their chief scientist had never been a child—or at least not a normal one—but that display had just proved otherwise. “Next lesson. Meanwhile, you can bring up the HUD.”

  That request seemed to pacify Rodney somewhat. Coming in much higher this time, John noted that none of the EM fields activated before he parked the jumper on the outskirts of the village. That was a good sign.

  Although Lisera had grasped the fundamentals of using crutches, she wasn’t entirely mobile yet. However, Yann was as good as his word, and was waiting with another couple of muscle-bound fishermen holding the stretcher. After making certain that everything they were carrying was switched off, and that they were well clear of the jumper, Teyla withdrew the Shields from where she’d hidden them between the rocks. Surprised that they were still there, John felt a stab of guilt for not entirely trusting the merchant. The return of the Wraith must have rekindled faith in Dalera’s Shields, even if those who currently wielded them afforded less respect.

  “Zelenka may actually have come up with a useful suggestion,” Rodney ventured, accepting his Shield. “There may be a way to disable the capacitor.” He continued to mumble vague hypotheses during the short trek to the village.

  Walking along the cobbled road to the inn, they encountered a mixed reaction. It beat their first visit hands-down, but it was still somewhat unsettling. While a number of kids ran up to Lisera, begging her to tell them of the magical things she’d seen, just as many adults looked on with unconcealed resentment. He’d already warned Lisera to say nothing of her ‘Chosen’ status until presenting the fact to Kesun, but that hadn’t kept her from describing Atlantis with a rapid string of slightly embellished adjectives.

  When they reached the square, a bunch of people loaded down with goods obviously destined for market were parked outside the inn. None of them looked happy. Check that. One of them, Balzar, had a smug smile on his face. “Market day in the Citadel, huh?” John inquired to Yann.

  The merchant’s face darkened. “No. Since your arrival, a change has come. We must now double what we once paid before we are allowed entry into the transport. Additionally, we must pay in advance.”

  “What?” One word was enough to summarize Rodney’s disbelief, but naturally he didn’t leave it at that. “What can the Chosen possibly need with all that food when there are so few—”

  “Dr McKay,” Teyla all but hissed. “Had we not agreed to return Lisera to the Citadel first?”

  “After you, Rodney.” John pushed open the door of the inn and gave the scientist a not-quite-gentle prod in the back. Offering a smile in Yann’s direction, and raising his voice so that the waiting villagers could hear, he added, “Let’s hold off until we discuss a few things with the Chosen.”

  “And if the Wraith return?” someone called.

  “Then I’ll come back here,” John replied, lifting his Shield. “That’s a promise.”

  Mutters of grudging acceptance followed him into the inn. The old guy behind the bar was standing in the exact same spot where John had left him, still looking surly, although his expression shifted somewhat when Yann entered with Lisera and the other merchants.

  That was yet another thing that had John’s self-preservation skills screaming. Something wasn’t adding up. He might have chalked it up to the heightened fear and resentment in the village, except Teyla seemed equally tense and watchful. She returned his glance with a subtle shake of her head. No Wraith, then, but something.

  The fishermen carrying Lisera walked down into the transport ahead of Ford, who was also looking around, alert for anything amiss. Rodney was already inside, practically bouncing on his toes. “I’m looking forward to this.”

  “Did I mention that I’ve added a spiked metal plate to the heel of my boots?” John remarked, stepping in beside him and placing his palm on the single light.

  “Oh, you won’t have to worry about me speaking out of turn,” Rodney replied. “I’ll be quite happy just to observe and feel utterly vindicated.”

  The doors opened on a familiar feculent odor, and the scientist’s smile slipped a few notches. The Sanctuary Hall was still as grubby and crowded and noisy as it had been two days earlier, although the area around the entrance to the transport seemed marginally less cluttered. In fact, it looked as if—


  Too late, John saw thick rope nets fly across them. Before he’d even had a chance to raise his weapon, he felt himself jerked off his feet. Teyla’s warning cry had likewise come too late. Rodney yelped an objection moments later, when John found himself directly on top of the scientist, on the floor, twisted up inside the greasy net. Then he became aware of the smell and feel of a dozen bodies crowded around them.

  “We will not harm you,” Yann called above their cries, “if you cease struggling, and release your weapons to us.”

  Someone near him—Teyla, by the feel of it—continued to twist around inside the net, no doubt trying to free at least one of her arms. John tried to reach for his knife, but the mesh pulled tighter and Yann called out again, “We promise you no harm, but you must listen!”

  Damn it, damn it, damn it. And people wondered why he seemed to live by gut instinct rather than set plans. It wasn’t out of any deep desire to rock the boat. It was because when he ignored that instinct, crap like this tended to happen.

  “Is my arm still attached to my shoulder?” Rodney inquired in a plaintive voice. “It’s hard to tell at the moment, what with the pain and the awkward angle and the grown man lying on top of me.”

  “Believe me when I say it isn’t by choice, Rodney.”

  Ford’s, “Sir?” was muffled, but John knew what the Lieutenant was asking.

  Heaving a sigh, he made the all but inevitable decision. “All right. We’re listening.”

  The net slackened, and they untangled themselves. Their weapons were pulled away, disappearing into the throng of people, and their wrists were bound with thick ropes. Outmaneuvered by a bunch of guys with a net. They were never going to live this one down.

  “We have no wish to make enemies of you,” Yann began, his expression so earnest that John almost believed him. “On the contrary, we hope you will find us to be worthy allies.”