Casualties of war

Chapter three

Well, he wasn't dead, so that was a start.

The bright streaks in Rodney's field of vision required some time to identify. At last he recognized them as the holes in the roof of the Ancient research facility. Some kind of power surge had knocked him flat, and whatever illumination the transporter map had provided was now gone.

A few meters away, a focused beam of light rose from the cluttered floor, as Teyla came up out of a crouch with her P-90 raised. "John, Rodney, are you injured?"

"Ow," answered a muffled voice from somewhere nearby. Rodney took a moment to assess his physical state. He'd landed on his back amid some rather uncomfortable rubble, but aside from the painful bruises-

The door banged open, adding more light to the scene. Ronon barreled in, weapon at the ready. "You guys all right?" he demanded when it became clear that no immediate threat existed. "Where's Sheppard?"

Under Rodney's shoulder, the rubble shifted, and he scrambled to his feet. "Sorry!" he stammered upon realizing that his team leader had been pinned underneath him. "Sony, very sorry."

Rolling over with a wheezing groan, Sheppard glared up at him. "What the hell do you have in that pack of yours? Did Radek stow away in there, or what?"

Rodney met the glower with one of his own but offered the Colonel a hand up, which was accepted. "You could have said something."

"I said `ow'."

"Something more descriptive."

"I didn't have the lung capacity." Upright once again, Sheppard picked a few shards of glass out of his sleeve.

"What happened`?" Ronon wanted to know.

Rodney wasn't entirely sure, but he wasn't about to say so. "The power requirements of this transporter must be handled differently than what we've seen on Atlantis."

"That, or disabling the security feature triggered another security feature," Sheppard guessed.

Their Satedan teammate didn't smile often. When he did, Rodney considered it an alarming display. "McKay, you didn't `carefully consider the possibility of a boobytrap'?"

Just what Rodney needed: someone else on his case. "Discover the wonders of irony some other time. This was a power surge, not a failsafe trigger."

"How can you be certain?" asked Teyla.

"Because if the Ancients had intended to seriously discourage trespassers by that method, they'd have built it to do more than just knock us over." He bent down to reexamine the slightly singed access panel. "Somebody want to give me some light again?"

With a grumble that sounded like `I must be nuts,' Sheppard stepped up next to him and reactivated his light. "Maybe it's just well and truly broken, then."

"If it has a viable power source-and all indications up until two minutes ago suggested that it does-there's no level of `broken' that I can't fix. It might require a call home for some specialized tools, but I'm hardly going to let a door hold us back for long."

The scanner had fallen to the floor a while earlier. Rodney retrieved it and aimed it into the open access port. The handheld device was an Ancient gadget he'd appropriated during an early exploratory trek through Atlantis's labs, and as such was shielded from the effects of electromagnetic interference. It detected the presence of EM just fine, however, and right now it was blinking like mad. The field strength was off the charts-and yet the readings didn't make sense.

"Something behind this door is emitting an energy pattern I've never seen before," he reported to the group. "It registers as an electromagnetic field, but it's not interfering with our Earth-made equipment the way an EM field should."

A short burst of static issued from their radios; Sheppard had keyed his microphone experimentally. "On the kid world, M7G-677, we couldn't even use these while we were under the EM shield," he recalled. "How is this different?"

"I don't know yet. It's as if there's a positive intermodulation effect, although I'd be surprised if it could be predicted by a standard Taylor series…" Behind him, Rodney could almost hear his teammates' eyes glazing over. Too bad for them-he did some of his best thinking aloud, and they could just deal with it. "In any case, the energy running through this thing is amplified somehow. When I removed that crystal, I may have altered the conductive paths through the rack, and the circuit couldn't handle the load when the power was reconnected."

"You're saying we blew a fuse?" Sheppard summarized.

Still facing the panel, Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's precisely what I'm saying, except my version wasn't painfully simplistic and utterly superfluous to the point."

"So what is the point?" Ronon seemed to be in a lowtolerance mood.

"That this transporter is-or was-drawing power from something nearby. And while that something is not a ZPM, it has the equivalent energy output of one. It's likely that whatever development occurred in this facility was focused on that energy source." What had begun as a faint nudge of theoretical interest blossomed into genuine excitement. Standing up, Rodney turned toward the others. "We might get more than a weapon out of this. We might be able to, if not end, at least cut back our dependence on ZPMs."

Sheppard gave a low whistle. "You really think that's possible?"

"Possible, yes. Probable, not so much, or we'd have seen the technology in wider use elsewhere in the galaxy. But I won't be able to learn anything more until we can get into that lab and see the extent of the research."

Teyla adjusted her vest. "What do you require?"

Good question. Rodney had no idea how this energy source operated; it might have any number of unstable characteristics. He needed the transporter working, but not at the risk of causing another, perhaps larger, overload.

"A naquadah generator," he replied. "Just a small one, to provide power to the transporter when I bypass its primary power system. And a couple of other odds and ends. If we start back to the gate now, I can have the equipment here in two hours and a functioning transporter in four."

"All right, I guess we're headed back the way we came." Sheppard picked his way through the debris toward the entrance, climbing over a fallen countertop in his path.

Once outside, where he didn't have to concentrate on trying not to trip, Rodney allowed himself to mentally skip ahead a few steps. Any power source capable of sustaining itself throughout the Ancients' ten-thousandyear absence clearly had longevity comparable to a ZPM. Could it have a similar capacity? If it did, what was the tradeoff? Why weren't there wonder batteries like this all over Atlantis?

None of the answers his brain supplied to the latter questions filled him with confidence. Doranda, among other missions, had given him plenty of reasons to be wary of Ancient experimentation. Although their intentions may have been noble, the devil was in the details, and they were unequivocally lousy at cleaning up their messes. Some days he found it hard to believe that the word `hubris' hadn't been coined specifically for them. Other days he was thoroughly convinced that it had.

Still, they'd come up with some damned impressive gadgets in their time, he had to admit. And if any of their technology would help him stave off the mortal peril that seemed to lurk around every metaphorical corner in this galaxy, then he'd do his best not to appear ungrateful.

The team started up the incline that led to the gate. Teyla walked with Sheppard, listening to his muddled description of a movie he hoped the Daedalus had brought to add to the city's DVD library. Ronon hung back beside Rodney and said, unsurprisingly, nothing.

It didn't occur to Rodney to wonder why his team mate looked so watchful until a commanding voice from behind them shouted, "Go no further!"

Then he remembered the brief glitch of a life sign he'd spotted amid the trees upon their arrival. Not such a glitch after all, apparently.

The foursome spun around, weapons at the ready, only to be met by twice as many angry locals and twice as many weapons.

So much for that whole `not dead' thing.

Ronon studied the newcomers over the barrel of his gun. A squad of eight men and women had fanned out to surround the team, all dressed in fitted tunics of coarselooking fabric. Each brandished a coil of unfamiliar material in a manner that identified the object as a weapon. Long and thin, it gave the appearance of metal, but he'd never before seen metal move like a snake.

"Hi there," Sheppard greeted, his pleasant tone belied by his grip on his P-90. Ronon could see the tension in his leader's stance even from the corner of his eye. "We're-"

"Do you have no respect?" spat one of the men, slightly built with close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. "Does the Hall mean so little to your kind that you would defile it this way?"

"Our kind?" Ronon repeated, standing as tall as was possible in a shooting stance. He had a size advantage over all these people, and if he had any chance of intimidating them, he was willing to give it his best effort.

"Hang on a minute." Sheppard took a step forward. His motion prompted a flurry of activity from the guards, or whatever they were. They released their metal coils, each now holding the weapon only by a rigid handle at the end, poised to strike.

Lifting one hand in a conciliatory gesture, the Colonel tried again. "Listen, I don't know who you think we are, but it's a good bet that we're not them."

Another guard, a willowy female, examined McKay from head to toe. The scientist squirmed a little under her probing gaze. "They do not resemble Nistra, Kellec," she said finally. "No raider I have ever encountered has worn clothing of this type."

"How does that matter, Merise?" The one called Kellec kept his gaze trained on Sheppard as he spoke to his comrade. "They are raiders, Nistra or not." Addressing the team, he demanded, "Where is your ship?"

"We didn't bring one," Sheppard replied evenly. "We came through that big ring up the hill."

Kellec's eyes narrowed as he considered that piece of information. Before he could offer any judgment of its truthfulness, McKay became emboldened. Studying the weapon in the woman's hand, he raised his eyebrows. "What are those, whips?" A trace of a superior smile appeared on his face. "People, I hate to break up your fun little threat-fest, but if you really want us to capitulate, you'll have to do better than — "

His haughty statement ended there. The woman, Merise, moved before Ronon could react, her whip flying out to snatch the scanner from McKay's hand and fling it to the ground.

McKay gaped at it, yet he still managed to summon a bit of outrage. "Excuse me, that's delicate-"

The end of the whip struck his wrist with a stinging slap and wrapped itself into a succession of tight loops around his sleeve. Throughout the display, Merise barely moved.

McKay's gaze darted back and forth between his ensnared wrist and the less-than-amused whip wielder. "You know what?" he offered weakly. "Forget I said anything."

That felt like provocation enough to Ronon. He took a menacing stride toward the nearest guard.

"Worthless scavengers," the man sneered, brandishing his whip.

"Hey!" Sheppard's voice carried over the group. "Let's calm the hell down." He cast a warning glance in Ronon's direction. "Everyone."

The two apparent leaders regarded each other for a long moment. There were no further acts of aggression, but neither were there any signs of resolution. The standoff was beginning to grate on Ronon's nerves.

"Please." Teyla spoke in calm, measured tones. "We are not familiar with your people and customs. Tell us what offense we have caused, and we will atone for it."

With a short bark of disbelieving laughter, Kellec echoed, "What offense? You disgrace the Hall of Tribute with your weapons, you plunder its riches-"

"Riches?" Now it was McKay's turn to be incredulous. "The place is…" Realizing that Sheppard was giving him a very dangerous look, he wisely chose to shut his mouth.

"— and you have the audacity to ask what offense you have caused?" Kellec demanded.

"We did not recognize what your Hall of Tribute was, and we have taken nothing from inside." Placating, Teyla moved her P-90 to one side, dropping her aim. "To prove it, we will show you everything we carry. But you will need to release this man's arm." She tipped her head to indicate McKay.

After a brief hesitation, Kellec nodded to Merise. The woman's cool expression did not waver as she flicked her hand to remove her whip from McKay's wrist.

Wincing, McKay flexed his hand a few times before lowering his pack to the ground. "Fine, take a good look. But try not to touch anything unless it's absolutely necessary.

Ronon watched him take each item out of the bag but kept most of his attention on the guards. Two of them hovered behind the scientist, alert for any glimpse of a trinket from their beloved ruins among his possessions.

"We heard a great noise from inside the Hall," Kellec said, less accusing and more cautious than before.

McKay paused in his task, and there actually might have been a trace of embarrassment in his reply. "Yes, about that-we were only trying to operate the transporter. For informational purposes. We didn't do anything that can't be, uh, repaired."

Strangely, the guard leader didn't seem upset that they might have caused damage. Instead, he was looking with fascination at some of the equipment McKay had spread out on the ground. "Like that which the Hall contains, but not the same," he said, half to himself. He raised his eyes to Sheppard. "You have the ability to use the tools of the Ancestors?"

In answer, Sheppard took his life sign detector out of his vest pocket and turned it toward Kellec, displaying the lighted screen. "Not all of us, but some do."

The guards' cool response to his demonstration was unexpected, yet not unwelcome. Ronon had gotten used to witnessing extreme reactions from strangers to the news that the Earth team carried Ancestor blood; everything from near-worship to outright hostility. These people, by contrast, seemed mostly intrigued.

"Then they cannot be Nistra," Merise said quietly to her leader.

"Indeed not. Rather, they are our kindred."

Kindred? Ronon shot Sheppard a questioning glance, which was returned.

Kellec stepped closer to them, but his bearing suggested no threat. "You truly came through the Stargate?"

"That's right," said the Colonel.

They must have done something right, because the whips were put away at last, affixed to the guards' woven belts.

"I am Kellec, chief warrior of the Falnori."

Relaxing a little, Sheppard lowered his weapon, and Ronon followed suit. "Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. My team-Teyla Emmagan, Ronon Dex, and the one freaking out about his gear is Dr. Rodney McKay."

"A pleasure," McKay muttered, refusing to be distracted from gathering his equipment.

"We're explorers," Sheppard continued, "and we're interested in learning about the work that went on here back when the Ancients were around. That's all we wanted-we didn't come to steal anything from you."

A half-truth, Ronon thought; if they hadn't come upon a native populace, they gladly would have taken anything they found of use.

Kellec, however, was preoccupied with something else. "Your trespass in the Hall can be forgiven. But you entered while carrying weapons, and that is a more difficult matter."

"Wonder what the over-under is on how many shrines we mistakenly desecrate this month?" McKay hauled his pack onto his shoulder again.

"I'm not the city bookie," Sheppard replied tightly. Turning to Kellec, he said, "We really apologize for intruding on the Hall. We didn't know it was sacred to your people."

"It is not sacred, at least not in the way you may believe," the chief warrior explained. "The Hall holds great historical significance for us. It is the place where we remember the sacrifices of the Ancestors, made to defend this world against the Wraith so long ago. We do not worship the Hall, but we honor it. One way we do so is by entering only with pure intentions. Weapons of any kind are strictly forbidden on its grounds."

That declaration triggered an understanding for Ronon. "You heard us earlier, but you waited until we came outside to confront us."

With a single nod, Kellec said, "To take any sooner action would have required that we too enter the Hall while armed. Such an endeavor would have been a grave dishonor to each of us and to our houses. Even to prevent the scourge of a raid."

"These raids happen often?" asked Teyla.

Merise's features darkened, and the other warriors adopted expressions that appeared to be carved in stone.

"Too often of late," admitted Kellec. "You must come to the capital. Cestan will no doubt have questions for you, and he will be able to tell you better of the menace wrought by the Nistra."

It hadn't been presented as an ultimatum, but they were still in some trouble for the weapons gaffe, so a refusal seemed like a bad idea. Besides, if they were going to have any chance at getting back inside the ruined laboratory, they'd have to, as the Earth natives often said, work and play well with others.

Sheppard appeared to have come to the same conclusion. "Sounds like a plan," he agreed. "I take it Cestan is your leader?"

"We are citizens of Falnor, and Cestan is our governor." Kellec held out a hand, motioning in the direction of the forest. "It is not a long journey. We will arrive before the sun begins to leave its peak."

A skyward glance told Ronon that the sun was nearly overhead already.

The group set off toward the woods and soon came across a reasonably well-traveled path, the Atlantis team bracketed at the front and rear by the Falnori warriors. The canopy of trees soon swallowed most of the sunlight, giving the trek a desolate feel. Ronon's senses remained sharp, primed to detect any unexpected sound or motion. The warriors might have decided to trust them, but only up to a point. He saw no reason to do any differently.

"So there's a native populace around here," Sheppard began conversationally, keeping his voice low and his expression placid. None of the Falnori paid him any additional attention. "That would've been good to know."

"Don't look at me," McKay said, instantly defensive. "The scanner has a limited range, and I told you multiple times that it was acting up. The energy source in the facility registers oddly on what I'd call standard Ancient equipment-it must have interfered with life-sign detection. Whatever work went on here, it must have been a pretty highly regarded project. Usually the first requirement for new technology is for it to be compatible with everything that already exists."

"These people recognized the significance of the gene," Teyla observed, "and called you `kindred'. Might they have the blood of the Ancestors as well?"

"If they're descendants of the facility's workers, I don't see why not. At one time there were a large number of both Ancient researchers and human aides living here. It's possible that this society's incidence of the gene is comparable to that of Earth." McKay's lips curved in a wry smirk. "Dating one's lab assistant, apparently, is a universal practice."

"And these Nistra they hate so much?" Ronon asked.

Sheppard shrugged. "Don't know, but I'm thinking they don't sound like folks we want to invite over for din„ner.

"How would you estimate our chances of getting this Cestan guy to let us take another look around the ruins?" McKay wanted to know, his strides lengthening to keep up with his teammates.

"Once again, Rodney: I'm not your bookie. But we're sure as hell going to do our best to sell him on the idea." The Colonel scanned the trees around them, a subtle visual sweep that likely went unnoticed by everyone except Ronon.

"It is possible that the Falnori have set the transporter to respond only to them," said Teyla.

McKay shook his head. "Not likely, even assuming that some of them do have the gene. If their level of technological sophistication was that high, wouldn't they have devised something with a little more kick than those whips?"

Watching the Falnori ahead of him, moving with assurance and vigilance, Ronon said, "Maybe they have, and we just haven't seen it yet."

The idea seemed to set McKay back a step. "I'm honestly not sure whether I should be fascinated or frightened by that concept."

"There's got to be something worth a second look around here. Otherwise there'd be no reason for anyone to stage raids." Abruptly, a faint smile passed across Sheppard's face.

McKay frowned, suspicious. "What was that about?"

Sheppard's eyes glinted with amusement. "I was just thinking… So far on this mission, we've got raiders and we've got whips. All I need now is a fedora."

"Oh, good God." After giving the Colonel his most long-suffering look, McKay walked ahead. "The fact that I'm expected to obey the leadership of an overgrown teenager with a rank is perpetually mind-boggling to me.

"It's a rough life, isn't it, Rodney?" Sheppard turned in the scientist's direction as he spoke, but Ronon could tell he was sweeping the area again. For all his jokes and casual demeanor, the man's tactical instincts were wellhoned. Ronon's military service on his home world had been cut short, but he'd been a soldier long enough to recognize both good commanders and bad ones. He appreciated following someone whose abilities in the field he'd never had cause to doubt.

So far everyone seemed to be relatively calm and con tent on this walk, but he was fully aware of how quickly that could change. They knew very little about these Falnori yet, and often the unknown turned out to be the most formidable enemy of all.