STARGATE SG-1 ATLANTIS: Homeworlds : Volume three of the Travelers' Tales (SGX Book 5)

by Sally Malcolm

  “The old problem of assimilation and change,” Rodney said. “Yeah, we’ve got that. Pretty much everywhere on Earth.”

  “So I have seen, and your solutions are no better than ours.” Teyla shrugged. “Our governance depends on trust. We do not have kings anymore, as we did in Arda’s day. We do not have dictators. We have a Council, but its power rests on the trust given to it. If people simply refuse to recognize its decisions as binding on them, we have no governance at all.”

  “You mean, if the Council says, ‘don’t put a well there’ and someone does it, there’s nothing you can do about it?”

  “We can fill it in. But if the man who dug it resists, what are we to do? We can, at a full vote of the Council, tell him that he is no longer welcome to live among us, but that is a terrible punishment and the result of many offenses. It does not happen quickly or until the peace has been disturbed many times. And then there are the Manarians.”

  “What about them?” Rodney fell into step beside her as they began to walk to the settlement.

  She glanced at him. “Have you ever had a roommate who bothered you because the things that were their own preferences were no trouble to you at all when you were only friends but became enormous problems when you shared an apartment?”

  Rodney snorted. “You mean like being a neat freak? I had this roommate in grad school who steam mopped the entire house every night. Every single night.”

  “Like that, yes.” Teyla smiled. “The Manarians follow an elaborate code of taboos regarding food — what can be prepared when and how, what can be hunted or slaughtered when and how, and who can eat what. Some foods cannot be prepared by women and other foods cannot be eaten except by certain people or on certain days. It did not matter to us at all when they were on Manaria, and we simply observed their customs when we came to trade. But now that we live together, it is a point of constant contention that we do not observe these customs. The wrong person is always preparing the wrong food at the wrong time and offending everyone. They are upset and words are spoken and many of them are growing impatient at being told what we can do in their home.”

  “Their home.” Rodney’s thought was as clear as if he’d spoken aloud. *Not your home.*

  Teyla stopped, looking up to the branches of lowering trees. “This world is not my home, no. I have never lived here.”

  “And you’re planning to stay in Atlantis.”

  “Yes.” She had not said so before, not simply and without qualification. But it was easier to be honest with Rodney than most, her dear friend who was not so tangled in his own choices.

  “Good,” Rodney said. “Me too. Not that I can go back to Earth right now because the IOA is saying that I might still be Wraithy or something, but I don’t want to anyway so it doesn’t matter. I chose to come to Pegasus and there’s still lots to do here. Atlantis is….” Words failed as to what Atlantis was.

  “And that perhaps is the difference,” Teyla said. “You chose. These people did not choose. They were driven out by Queen Death in fear for their lives, as we were driven from Athos by the Wraith and then from Atlantis by the Ancients. None of us chose this place. None of us wanted this. We have made the best of it, to survive as we always do. But it satisfies no one.”

  “Maybe it’s time to do some choosing,” Rodney said. “I mean, if nobody’s trying to kill anybody right now. Maybe people can figure out what they want. I totally get that beggars can’t be choosers, but maybe you’re not beggars anymore.”

  Teyla felt an enormous wave of affection for him. Sometimes Rodney saw through to the truth of something like no one else. “I think you are exactly right,” she said. “We are not beggars. We are partners in this treaty. And we must decide our future for ourselves.”

  “So what we’re doing is making it possible to move back to Athos.”

  “I hope that is what we are doing,” Teyla said. “Rodney, I do not know if there is a shield generator there, or if there is whether we can make it function, but if it could be so, we would have a different choice. I should like to give my people that choice, even if I do not intend to go with them.”

  “So this isn’t about making it safe for you to go home?”

  “I am staying in Atlantis,” Teyla said. “For the foreseeable future.” It felt good to say that firmly. She had not said it to anyone else.

  Rodney shrugged, his usual cocky expression returning. “If there’s a generator there, I can make it work.”

  “Then let us see if we can find one for you to work on,” Teyla said.

  “The Council does not meet at your pleasure, Teyla.” Kanaan frowned, his hands on his hips in the brew house where great barrels of liquor sat in their cradles, waiting to be turned. He wiped his hands on his apron. “We are busy and Lattia is not here but on Tryphen on a trade expedition. We cannot meet today.”

  Teyla took a deep breath. It was certainly true that Lattia was not there, and she was definitely on the Council, but it was also true that Kanaan was not being as helpful as he might be.

  “We have our own work to do,” Kanaan said, gesturing around the brew house. “I have two apprentices at this craft, and we have mash that is half-cooked. It would be my suggestion that you return tomorrow when you were expected to pick up Torren and talk with people then, rather than arriving a day early and expecting others to accommodate you. Unless you intended to pick up Torren earlier than the schedule we had agreed upon.”

  Teyla gritted her teeth. It came back to that, of course. “I did not intend to change the schedule we had agreed upon,” she said evenly. “I had hoped to talk with the Council. That is all.”

  “Then perhaps you should go before Torren sees you. You know it confuses him at his age when he has been led to believe that the schedule is one thing and it is another. I do not come to Atlantis unexpectedly and disturb his routine there.”

  “Hey, you know,” Rodney began, and Teyla gave him a quelling glance.

  “You are quite correct,” Teyla said. “You do not.” She refrained from any further comments about how Kanaan made himself scarce from Atlantis even when expected. There was no need for those old discussions to weigh upon Torren. “I shall do that. But first I will look in on Halling and ask if he will request a meeting tomorrow evening, when Lattia has returned.”

  “As you wish, of course,” Kanaan said.

  Rodney followed her out of the brew house. “Joint custody’s a pain, isn’t it?”

  Teyla couldn’t help but smile. “Is that what you make of this?”

  He shrugged. “Not everything is politics.”

  “That is very true.”

  “I think you guys do a good job of not fighting,” Rodney said. His eyes were serious. “Nothing sucks for a little kid more than parents who fight all the time.”

  She stopped. “Was that what your parents did?”

  “Mine? Nah.” Rodney looked across the square between houses. “Just saying. So we’re going to find Halling?”

  “Yes. And we will ask him if the Council can meet tomorrow night.”

  Halling was in the haybarn, his red hair now long enough to tie back at the collar again. He was handing enormous bales up to the rafters above, lifting them over his head as if they weighed nothing, and Teyla waited until he finished before she called. His smile when he saw her was gratifying. “Teyla! I did not think to see you today! What has brought you here?”

  “I cannot stay,” Teyla said, “But I thought that I would stop in and ask if I might address the Council tomorrow night if it is convenient.”

  “Of course.” Halling’s eyes flicked from her to Rodney and back, and he drew her away from the others who were moving bales. “What is the matter? Is it the Wraith?”

  “Nothing is wrong,” Teyla said. “I simply had an idea that I wanted the Council to consider.” Qu
ickly, she sketched out the request — that they be able to search the ruins of the city of Emege in hopes of finding a shield generator.

  Halling heard her out soundlessly. Then he sat down on one of the bales and mopped his brow where the sweat ran down in the heat. “It’s an interesting interpretation of the story,” he said.

  “And that may be all it is,” Teyla said. “It may be that there has never been a shield generator there. But I think it is quite possible that our ancestors have handed down to us a story containing truths they did not understand, but that were true all the same. It is possible that Emege was once a powerful ally of the Ancients, and that they gave to our world a shield generator as they did to a few others. If so, we could have held long against the Wraith.”

  “And the city fell only when the generator failed,” Halling said.

  “No,” Rodney said. “When the ZPM ran out. When they ran out of power. It could be that there is absolutely nothing wrong with the generator itself.”

  “Or it could have been destroyed when the Wraith breached the city,” Halling said.

  “That is so,” Teyla agreed. “They may have blown it into a million pieces. Or they may not have. What I would like to ask is that Dr. McKay and I have permission to go and see.”

  “Not an entire expedition of Lanteans? A lot of people are going to be reluctant to let a bunch of Marines tramp around Emege, where so many of our people have lain unburied since the last attack.” He looked at Rodney. “The city is a graveyard, a war grave. We leave it respectfully undisturbed.”

  “We do not need an entire expedition,” Teyla said with a quelling glance at Rodney. “Not to merely see if there is a generator there. Rodney and I will not disturb the resting places of my kindred.”

  Halling nodded. “I know that you will do nothing disrespectful. Nor you, Dr. McKay. You are an honest and honorable man.”

  “Thank you?” Rodney said doubtfully.

  “Tomorrow night we will meet and you may present your request to everyone,” Halling said. “But I think most will agree that it is worthwhile to look. What we will do if you find one….” His voice trailed off.

  “If we find one and the ZPM is out of power, we still can’t get it going,” Rodney said. “At least not until we locate another ZPM, which is possible. We’ve found several over the years. So….”

  “At the very least, it will fill in a piece of our history,” Halling said. “Even if it does not solve problems in our present.” He glanced over at three women Teyla did not know who were tying bales with string.

  “Manarians,” she said quietly.

  “And many others.” Halling sighed. “We have opened our doors to many others, as we needed to. But never so many at a time. We are changing.”

  “We have always changed,” Teyla said. “We lived in Emege and we were a great kingdom.”

  “That is so.” Halling put his hands on his thighs and made to stand up. “But I do not want us to lose our great strengths. Nor to become…quaint.”

  Teyla did not know what to reply, and so she said nothing.

  “Well, we’ll see if we can find a shield generator,” Rodney said. “And you can take it from there.”

  “Thank you, my friend,” Halling said, clasping hands with Rodney. “I will look forward to seeing you again tomorrow night. And Jinto can go back to Atlantis with you. He’s supposed to bring the milk from this morning’s milking according to our trade agreement. Jinto!”

  Jinto popped his head out of the other end of the barn, the end where the goats were kept. “I’m coming,” he said. “Just loading the wheelbarrow.”

  “We will help,” Teyla said. It was not right for a child to work while adults stood about, she thought, but as she went into the goat barn, Jinto hoisted the barrow up on its wheel though it was full of big plastic jugs of goat’s milk. He was now taller than she, with dark hair held back in a low ponytail, and strong arms that did not strain to hold the barrow at all.

  “You grew,” Rodney said. He had not seen Jinto in many months.

  “I’m sixteen,” Jinto said. “I’m supposed to grow.”

  “You are indeed,” Teyla said. “You will be as tall as your father soon.” It was rather alarming how fast he had grown.

  “Ok,” Jinto said, his satchel slung on his back. “Let’s go.” He pushed the wheelbarrow easily with what must be seventy pounds of milk in it.

  “Sure you don’t want me to carry some of that?” Rodney asked unconvincingly.

  “I’ve got it.” The satchel slung forward, nearly catching Teyla in the chest with what must be another twenty pounds of something.

  “I will get your bag,” she said.

  “No, that’s ok. Really….” The bag flipped, the flap opening and two big hardback books spilling out onto Rodney’s feet.

  He bent and picked them up, looking at them curiously. “Engineering textbooks?”

  Jinto winced. He let go of the barrow handles and snatched the books, putting them safely back in the satchel. “Shhhh!”

  “Why are they secret?” Rodney whispered back in a stage whisper.

  “Let’s walk and I’ll tell you.” Jinto looked nervous.

  “That might be best.” Teyla took Rodney’s arm and led him out, Jinto following with the satchel and the wheelbarrow. She waited until they were up the path to the Stargate and out of earshot of the settlement before she let go.

  “Where did you get those?” Rodney asked.

  “They belong to Dr. Zelenka,” Jinto said. “He loaned them to me. I didn’t take them. He said I could use them.”

  “Of course you didn’t take them,” Teyla said. “Neither of us thought that.”

  “Why do you want them?” Rodney asked. “Who wants engineering textbooks?”

  “I do,” Jinto said, and there was a stubborn light in his eye. “When I take things to Atlantis, I often wait to take other things back in trade. I usually have a while to wait. Dr. Zelenka has been tutoring me.”

  “In what?” Rodney asked.

  “Science, mathematics, even English. And engineering.” Jinto’s voice had a touch of pride. “He says I am a very good student. And that he understands what it is to want to learn things you are not supposed to.”

  “Why aren’t you supposed to?”

  “We don’t need those things, my father says. He says Athosians don’t build cities and bridges and weapons. We don’t do those things because they call the Wraith down and because they aren’t who we are. We’re peaceful. We’re agrarian. We are proud that we live without depending on technology. But….”

  “But you want to know these things,” Teyla said gently.

  Jinto stopped, his eyes passionate. “We built cities once! I know we did. It was us, not the Ancestors. We could do so many things that we’ve forgotten or that the Wraith took from us because they were afraid of us. They were afraid we’d fight them too well. They were afraid that we’d build too much. Because we can. We don’t have to be children living in the ruins of things the Ancestors built, or turned off our lands because the Ancestors say, ‘we are the parents and we know what’s best for you’ like they did on Atlantis. We’re not children. We can learn anything that you Lanteans can!”

  “At the cost of not being Athosian,” Teyla said. As she had. The cost of Atlantis was being no longer of her people.

  “Maybe we need to change what being Athosian means,” Jinto said. He folded the satchel across him. “I’m going to be an engineer. And I’ll get the knowledge wherever I need to.”

  “Even if your father disapproves?” Teyla asked. And that was the crux of it — not that he hid the books from them, but from Halling.

  “I’m nearly a man,” Jinto said. “My father can’t tell me what books to read.”

  “No,” Teyla sai
d. “I see that he cannot.”

  The next evening Teyla and Rodney returned and waited while the Council assembled in the four-sided meeting room the Athosians had built of raw logs. There was a central hearth, but on this summer night no fire was lit. It was still hot from the heat of the day. On one side of the hearth the Council members sat on the front bench, while other curious people who wanted to hear sat around the other three walls. Teyla was not surprised to see how many there were. The Lanteans had often brought important news.

  Rodney, however, was surprised. He nudged her. “Big audience,” he said. “Is that good or bad?”

  “I do not know,” Teyla said quietly. “Any Athosian is welcome to hear and take part in the debate. This seems to be a matter that concerns many.”

  “Halling’s been stacking the deck?”

  “I do not know.” Mentally she added, *Rodney, it is not tactful to talk of that so openly.*

  *Sorry.*

  *Let our words to the Council speak for themselves. And let me speak first.*

  *I was going to.* His mental voice sounded a little hurt.

  *I know. And I trust that you will explain the shield generator well when the time comes. Only these are my people, and they will take the proposal better from me.*

  *Are they your people?* Rodney looked around the room doubtfully.

  *Most of them.* It was true that there were many new faces, far more than Teyla had expected. Even in her childhood on Athos, when they had lived in many family groups that moved with the seasons, she had known almost everyone who came to an assembly, at least by sight if not by name, but perhaps half of the people who filled the benches tonight were complete strangers to her. Manarians, as Halling had said. Some of them looked Manarian from their dress. Others…. It was impossible to tell what their original homeworld had been. The Athosians had welcomed any who came fleeing Queen Death. She could not place perhaps fifteen of the newcomers or guess where they had come from.