by Stargate
“Amen to that,” noted the colonel.
She forced a smile. “I’m sorry. What impression must I be making upon you?”
“You’re not what I expected from a shuttle pilot,” admitted Jackson.
Suj looked at him again. “That is not my only duty for the Pack,” she replied. “Each of us has many skills we bring forth for our people. I am first and foremost a ethnohistorical documentarist.”
O’Neill blinked. “You’re a what now?”
“A cultural expert,” said Daniel slowly. “I get it. You’re not flying this ship just because you know how to pilot a Tel’tak. You’re doing it so you can get a feel for us, right? You’re studying us.”
The shuttle slowed and began a slow decent into a shallow crater. “The Pack hasn’t survived this long without being cautious, Doctor Jackson,” smiled the woman.
The colonel spread his hands. “Well, this is us on our best behavior. You can pretty much take us as you find us.”
“I imagine we will,” said the woman, as the ship settled on to a landing pad.
The Pack made no attempt to disarm them as they ventured aboard their vessel, although Teal’c could sense the tension in the men that formed SG-1’s adjunct. He was aware that he alone generated more of the hard looks and sideways glances than any of his team mates. It was not a new sensation for the Jaffa; since be broke ranks with Apophis, on many worlds Teal’c encountered men and women whose hatred of the Goa’uld transferred to him. He did not allow it to concern him; as his mentor Bra’tac had instilled in the warrior, Teal’c was content to allow his actions to speak for him. If the Pack wished to misjudge him, then that would be their error.
He studied the motion of the guards who walked with them. They lacked the order of Jaffa warriors, or the watchful discipline of Tau’ri soldiers; they moved with the easy arrogance of men used to fighting, but they lacked— for want of a better term— the grace of a career warrior. These Pack, he considered, would likely fight with a feral intensity born of instinct, not skill. Teal’c filed that conclusion away for later consideration and turned his attention to their weapons. Like the male who called himself Vix, one of the guards carried a zat’ni’katel, while the other had a dual-barreled ballistic weapon of unusual design; both men exhibited enough confidence to convince Teal’c they knew full well how to use them.
The female named Suj led them through a series of anterooms and Teal’c noticed a subtle change in the pull of gravity through his boots. The mammoth vessel did not use the technology of artificial gravitational generation like most craft with which he was familiar; indeed, the interior of the Wanderer was dissimilar to the mechanical, clean corridors of Tau’ri or Goa’uld ships; they were carved out of stone, more akin to the cave warrens he remembered near his village from his boyhood on Chulak. Presently, the party arrived at a set of shallow, broad stairs and Suj hesitated on the threshold.
“I ought to warn you,” she began, “we are about to enter the great atrium, and some newcomers find the sight of it rather… Unsettling. If you begin to feel disoriented, look at the ground.”
“We’ll be fine,” O’Neill smiled. “Lead on.”
“As you wish.” The woman hid a smirk. Teal’c tightened his grip around his staff weapon, ready in the event that this ‘revelation’ was a prelude to an attack upon them.
They climbed the stairs, and at the top Suj spread her hands to the air. “Welcome to the heart of the Wanderer.”
The Jaffa hesitated as he took in the sight laid out before him. “Impressive,” he allowed.
Daniel reached the top of the stairs and looked up. And up. And up. He felt his head swim a little and his balance fluttered. A firm hand pressed into his shoulder and he glanced back to see Teal’c providing the support. “Thanks,” he said lamely. “That last step is a doozy.”
To be honest, Jackson hadn’t really known what to expect. He’d been inside lots of big spaceships before, and one set of corridors looked pretty much like another, right? Granted, the mix-and-match tunnels-and-technology look of the Wanderer’s passageways was something new, but this space, this atrium… For a moment, it took his breath away. Daniel had imagined they would come out in some sort of room, maybe like a reception chamber or a hall for audiences. He had not expected to find himself standing in the middle of what looked like parkland, having emerged from the side of a shallow hill. For long moments his brain registered a kind of disconnect. The scenery was one of sparse grasses and low, wide trees. The first Earth-like analogy that sprang to mind was the African veldt, a savannah that went off to the horizon— or at least, it would have if there had actually been a horizon. Jackson swallowed hard and let his eyes follow the line of the landscape, over the gentle, rolling hills, finding roads and regular, oval lakes, the patchwork of what looked like farmland and clusters of buildings that were bright white stone in the even daylight.
But where the view should have gone to the vanishing point, the land did something very different. It folded up and away, and Daniel tried not to get dizzy as he walked his gaze up it, around and along until he saw the curvature coming together miles over his head. “Whoa.”
Suddenly, like one of those weird optical illusion pictures, the sight popped in his brain and Jackson’s sense of perception caught up to what it was he was actually seeing. “On the inside,” he said to himself. “It’s inside out. An inside out planet.”
“Is that what it is?” said O’Neill. “Oh good. That makes a lot more sense than trees stuck to the ceiling.”
Suj, still smiling in faint amusement, held her hands palms up in front of her. “Imagine a map, flat on a table. Then take it and fold it into a tube.” She put her hands together. “We are inside that tube, standing on the map. Look up,” and she pointed into the air, “and you see the rest of the map arching overhead.” Suj inclined her head. “Do not the Tau’ri have similar colonies in their star system?”
“Only in theory,” admitted Carter. “I’m familiar with the concept, though.” Sam glanced at Daniel and the others. “Back in the Sixties, a scientist called Gerard O’Neill posited the idea of building a huge cylinder in space, or hollowing out an asteroid and setting it to spin along the longest axis.” She made a turning motion with her fingers. “The centrifugal force created on the inside surface of the cylinder mimics Earth-normal gravity…” Her voice tailed off. “Never thought I’d ever see one, though.”
“O’Neill, huh?” said Jack. “Cool.” He gave Suj a look. “No relation, in case you were wondering.”
“It’s incredible,” Daniel took in the scope of the construction. He made out the forms of thin steel towers rising up from the surface like the spokes on a wheel, to meet at a series of spheres along the midline of the massive open chamber. “What are those?”
“The effect of gravity lessens the closer you get to the center of the Wanderer,” explained Suj. “At the hub there is no effect at all. We maintain artificial solar generators up there to create the illusion of a night and day cycle.”
“It’s a hell of a lot of real estate to keep in a can,” noted Jack.
“The Wanderer has been the heart of the Pack since the day of the first escape,” said Suj, a little defensively. “Please, if you’ll walk with me.”
They followed a path down to the nearest of the townships, which lay clustered around the base of one of the steel towers. Close up, Daniel saw that the buildings had an organic feel to them, as if they were made of coral. He wondered if they were grown rather than assembled.
The locals matched the look of Suj and the Pack from the planet. Clothing, technology and the people themselves were an eclectic mixture. This was a magpie culture, he reasoned, tribes of people who had lost their worlds and their identities in the wake of Goa’uld oppression, and then come together to forge a new whole from the fragments. Jackson felt the same rush of excitement as he had on the planet with the stone orbs, the promise of studying something strange and undiscovered; and these were livi
ng, breathing people with a vital, ongoing culture, not simply the memorials of a civilization long dead.
In the central square of the township they came upon Vix and Ryn, along with a handful of other men and women who all wore patient and vigilant expressions.
“Hey,” said Jack, giving them a jaunty wave. “Nice digs you have here. Love what you’ve done with the place.”
Vix accepted the greeting with a nod. “O’Neill.” He turned to his companions. “These are the Tau’ri of Earth. I have brought them to parley.”
Ryn said nothing, but an older, dark-skinned man in a heavy tunic and robes stepped closer. “Not what we expected, Vix. Not what we expected at all. Where is the salvage our scouts spoke of?”
“Yeah, about that,” offered the colonel. “If I can field that one, I’m thinking that your folks and ours were led on a wild goose chase in that regard.”
“There are only war machines down there,” explained Vix. “Guardians, I suspect, placed there to protect the stone monoliths. Our sweeps detected nothing that we could use.”
The other man frowned. “Our needs—”
“Are known to me,” finished Vix bluntly. “Do not question that. This is why I have brought these people to our home. They talk of trade.”
“Words cost little,” grumbled Ryn.
“Damn right they do,” O’Neill broke in. “So, what do you say we see if there’s something more tangible we can chat about?” He spread his hands. “We’re not the snakeheads, kids. We’re here to, uh…” Jack glanced at Sam. “Carter, what was that phrase?”
“Make in-roads, sir,” she replied, pulling up the expression from a dull briefing document from the International Oversight Advisory that all of them had been forced to read. The world governments who knew about the Stargate were forever applying pressure for concrete rewards from the program.
“In-roads, right.” Jack nodded sagely, and Daniel was struck by the fact that he gave a good impression of knowing what he was doing. “You guys saved our butts back on that pool-table planet. Helluva good way to make new friends.”
For the first time, Vix cracked something like a smile. He was warming to them. “You and I will talk, Colonel.” He beckoned him closer. “I have chambers where there is food and refreshment.”
Ryn sniffed. “Where you can create secret deals with the Tau’ri to strengthen your own position?”
The other man’s outburst made the moment turn awkward. “I will seek only what is best for the Pack,” said Vix, at length.
“Then there will be no impediment to my presence as well,” retorted the other pilot, darting a look at Suj.
“Ryn is correct,” said the historian. “The codes of conduct allow it. One of the Pack for each visitor. But this means O’Neill must have a companion as well.”
“Oh, I getcha.” Jack nodded. “Teal’c? Come with. We can get a snack.”
“What about us, sir?” said Sam.
“Make nice,” replied the colonel. “But don’t wander too far.”
As they departed, the dark-skinned man gave Sam a small bow. “Forgive me, I am remiss. I am Koe, and the Pack’s welfare is my remit. Perhaps you and your associate would join me while our leaders talk? I would be pleased to show you some of the Wanderer.”
“If it pleases you, healer,” Suj broke in. “Might I speak with Doctor Jackson? It appears we have some common interests.”
The two members of the Pack exchanged glances and Daniel saw a subtle communication pass between them. “Of course,” said Koe.
Sam gave him a nod as they parted company and tapped the radio on her gear vest; the message was clear. Stay in touch— just in case. Daniel nodded back, and for a moment he felt a slight tinge of disappointment. They’d barely met these people and already they had defaulted to the assumption that the Pack were untrustworthy. It made Jackson feel glum; but then SG-1 had learned through bitter experience that seemingly-friendly faces were often far from it. The Shavadai, the Eurondans, the Aschen, the Bedrosians... We’ve had more of our fair share of knives hidden behind smiles. He sighed and gave Suj a weak grin. For once, he hoped, it would be nice to find the reverse was true.
O’Neill took the proffered tankard from Vix’s hand and gave it a careful sniff. It had an odor that was somewhere between root beer and stale cheese. “And this is?”
“Laerua,” explained the other man. “A fermented brew made from Calaian herbs and the milk of a riding beast.” Vix drained a hearty draught from his tankard and watched Jack expectantly.
He glanced at Teal’c; the Jaffa was standing by the door of the chambers, doing his usual stoic-impassive thing. Close by, the Ryn guy was on the same bench as Vix, close to the edge of the seat and obviously tense. If Vix noticed his companion’s body language, he didn’t show it.
Jack took the plunge and sipped at the drink. It made his tongue prickle as it went down. “Smooth,” he managed, after a moment. “It’s like a tequila-flavor milkshake.”
“Is it not to your taste?” Vix asked. The question seemed to be genuine; this didn’t appear to be one of those haze-the-new-guy things where they gave him a glass of rubbing alcohol and waited to see if he went blind.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to seem rude. I just have a thing about, uh, foreign food. One time on Argos I ate this cake and…” He caught himself and halted. “Well, never mind. So. We’re talking here, right?”
“I am interested in how the Tau’ri will repay the debt they now owe us,” said Ryn. “You and your people would be dead if not for our intervention on the planet.”
Jack nodded, ignoring the man’s borderline-snide tone. “Oh sure, you betcha. But then we’ve been in deeper crap than that and made it out.” He tapped his chest. “I’ve been killed, y’know? You wouldn’t think it to look at me, though.”
“Understand us, Colonel,” began Vix. “The Pack is a society based on debts and obligations. We do not freely give without expecting recompense in return. We intervened because it was felt you might present a better opportunity to us alive than dead.” He nodded at the other man. “It was Ryn who made the suggestion.”
O’Neill was genuinely surprised at that, but he hid it well. From his first impressions, Ryn didn’t seem the overly charitable type. “Well, that’s mighty nice of you. But now you’re looking for us to pay the bill, right?” He looked up at the Jaffa. “Teal’c, you bring your wallet? I forgot to hit the ATM before we gated.”
Koe had maybe ten or twelve years on Sam, and he had a kind of manner about him that reminded her of Janet Fraiser; thoughtful, intelligent, and compassionate with it. As they walked slowly through the township, he pointed out different homes and told her about the people who lived in them. He mentioned the names of a dozen worlds Sam had never heard of, cultures and nation states that were meaningless to her. Koe caught her studying him and he inclined his head; the gesture seemed common among the Pack. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” Carter shook her head. “It’s just, you remind me of someone. A friend, someone who looked after our welfare. She died a little while ago… She’s been on my mind recently.”
“I am regretful for your loss,” Koe bowed his head a moment. “She was your cleric?”
“A medical doctor. A healer.” Sam hesitated. “I’m sorry, when you spoke about your people’s welfare, I thought that was what you meant.”
Koe’s lip curled in a slight smirk. “Are the two things so far apart? My duties are to maintain the Pack’s spiritual well-being as much as their physical health. Both test our mettle, Major. The Pack’s mix is an eclectic one, and that crosses over into physiologies and philosophies. We are as much a multi-culture as we are a culture in its own right.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “On Earth, we tend to keep our medicine and our religions separate. It works out easier in the long run.”
“Curious,” Koe tapped a finger on his lips. “I find it hard to imagine a situation where one would not go hand-in-hand with the other.” They crossed a
n oval area of greenery where a small marketplace had been erected. “The Tau’ri are not a secular people, then?”
“Some are, some aren’t. Earth has a lot of belief systems. In our past the Goa’uld took advantage of that.”
“You disapprove?”
“Of parasitic aliens pretending to be gods? I’d say yes, pretty much!”
Koe smiled. “No, Major, I mean of religion. The Goa’uld’s pattern of invasion and subjugation has been repeated across the galaxy, and there are some who say that they would have been less successful if the System Lords had not had the masks of our deities to hide behind.”
“There’s some truth in that, I suppose.” Sam felt uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was taking.
“But does that make it wrong to reject belief in the wake of its abuse?” Koe gave her a level look. “If I may ask, Major Carter. What do you believe in?”
She knew the question was coming, but when he asked it, it still wrong-footed her. Sam had to think for a moment to frame her reply. “I’m a scientist,” she began. “I’m in the business of seeing the rationality of the universe. I suppose, if I had to define it, I would say that I believe there’s a structure to existence and I have faith that one day science will help humanity understand it…” She smiled self-consciously. “That sounds a little pretentious, maybe…”
Koe smiled back. “Not at all. If I have learned anything living among the peoples of the Pack, it is that faith in something is better than faith in nothing.”
They moved on. Many of the locals threw welcoming nods to Koe, and Carter noted that she wasn’t drawing as many stares as she was used to on a first contact mission. It wasn’t difficult to rationalize; the Pack was a fluid society that took in new arrivals as a matter of course, so a new face in different clothes didn’t faze them. She watched a group of children playing a game with bats and colored balls close to a small canal that cut around the town’s perimeter. “How many people are there?” Sam asked as they crossed the canal’s bridge. “In the Pack, I mean.”
