Dead end

Chapter Two

Sheppard digested the information on the screens carefully. There were a lot of numbers he didn’t understand, but he could read a temperature gauge. The planet they’d all started to refer to as “Dead End” didn’t sound that inviting. Teyla and Ronon looked similarly thoughtful. Weir was downright skeptical.

Having finished his demonstration, McKay leaned back in his chair and looked at the others clustered around him in the Operations Center. He looked genuinely torn between his desire to see what the Ancients had been up to and his dislike for the expected conditions.

“It might work,” he said, giving Weir a sidelong glance. “It’s going to be cold. Very cold. And we’ll need the proper gear.”

The mission commander looked back at him sternly. “If I authorize this mission, then you’ll get all the equipment you need,” she said. “But I’m not sure I’m there yet. We’ve seen the footage from the MALP. We don’t know if there’s any settlement on this planet, or even if the Ancients actually did anything much there at all. For all we’ve discovered, this experiment might never have gotten off the ground. I’m all for exploration, but are we taking a sensible risk here?”

Sheppard shot her a winning smile.

“So it’s a little chilly,” he said. “It’s not gonna to be a picnic, but we’ve experienced worse. Cold weather gear, some extra rations, and we’ll be fine. Ronon might have a problem standing up to it, but I’m sure McKay’ll show him the way.”

Teyla smiled, and looked over at the Satedan, who remained impassive. McKay just rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, we’ve got to remember why we’re here,” continued Sheppard. “If we’re gonna turn down missions because they look borderline, then we may as well head back to the clubhouse for good. There’s something weird about that place, or the Ancients wouldn’t have rigged up their magic back-door to it.”

“Something weird? That’s your reason to go?” asked Weir.

“Well, I’m not best qualified on the science stuff. But yeah, that’s about the size of it. Rodney’ll give you the technical side.”

All eyes turned to McKay. He looked uncomfortable.

“Look, I don’t like cold. Or hot, come to think of it. But especially not cold. And I get chilblains easy,” he said. “But we could certainly use a way to travel around without relying on the Daedalus. If there’s new gate tech working here, then I’m not going to sleep well until I know how it works. If we can crack it, we could even get the backup link to Earth you’ve been trying to get me to build since we got here. So that’s a reason for checking it out. Not that I’m keen on going myself. I’d be happy to monitor things from here, really I would. But we can’t just ignore it.”

Sheppard turned back to Weir. “You heard the man,” he said. “Now we’ve got two reasons for going. It’s weird, and it’s useful.”

Weir turned to the other members. “Teyla?”

“I agree with Dr McKay,” the Athosian said. “The Ancestors have spoken. If they had come back to Lantea, they would have completed whatever it was they were doing there. There was urgency in their message. We cannot ignore it.”

“Ronon?”

The Satedan shrugged. “I’m up for it,” he said in his usual expansive way.

Sheppard grinned, feeling things going his way. “You’re gonna have to find a reason for us not to do this, Elizabeth,” he said. “There’s a case for a recon, and that’s really our job.”

Weir looked at him for a few moments, evidently weighing up her options. “I still don’t like it,” she said, at last. “There’s way too much we don’t know.”

Still she paused. The team waited, saying nothing.

“But I’m mindful of the Ancients’ message,” she said at last. “They felt it was important, and we have to take that seriously. So take the Jumper — that’ll give you some protection. We’re breaking new ground here and I want you all back safely.”

Sheppard nodded. “Agreed,” he said. “No unnecessary risks.”

Decision made. Now he’d just have to ensure that something useful came out of it.

McKay picked at his collar nervously. The Jumper was fully loaded, the bulkheads stuffed with cold-weather gear. Like the rest of the team, he was decked out in ECWCS versions of their standard fatigues. In Atlantis’s controlled atmosphere they felt close and restrictive, but he knew they’d be needed as soon as they emerged from the other end of the wormhole. It was little comfort. He didn’t like the cold any more than he liked the heat, or the damp, or the dry.

He still wasn’t sure he’d made the right choice in coming. It was either him or Zelenka, and the battle between his natural fear of the unknown and the chance of his colleague discovering something about the Ancients he didn’t know had been close. In the end, his thirst for knowledge had won. But only just. Now the nerves had returned and he felt terrible.

Up in the cockpit, Sheppard ran through the final pre-flight checks, the translucent screens of the Ancient head-up display floating before him. Teyla sat in the co-pilot’s seat, Ronon next to McKay in the rear compartment. He seemed to take up all the spare space.

“This damn thing’s too tight!” Rodney mumbled, trying to pull the insulated fabric from his neck.

“Don’t pull it, then,” said Ronon.

Sheppard spoke into the comm link. “Jumper’s good to go.”

“Very good,” came Weir’s voice from the Operations Center. “You’re clear to leave when ready.”

Sheppard ran his fingers over the Jumper’s control mechanism and McKay felt vaguely resentful of the man’s easy familiarity with Ancient technology. He didn’t seem to realize quite how lucky he was.

“Here we go, boys and girls,” Sheppard said, casting a final watchful eye over the diagnostic readings streaming across the lower half of the HUD. “Watch yourselves on the other side. There’s a storm blowing.”

“Oh, that’s just great,” muttered McKay. “We had to take off when there’s a storm blowing. Would it have been so hard to pick a clear window?”

“From what I can tell, there’s always a storm blowing,” said Sheppard, maneuvering the Jumper into position. “Quit complaining. You’re the one that started all of this.”

“I’m so glad you’re here to point these things out,” McKay grumbled.

Sheppard ignored him and continued nudging the Jumper round.

The ship hovered for a moment before powering the thrusters. Ahead, the surface of the Stargate shimmered with the vast energies of the contained event horizon.

“Good luck,” Weir said. “Bring back something good.”

McKay almost responded with a ‘like frostbite’ quip, but bit his tongue. Sheppard gave the necessary command and the Jumper responded with the strange, inertia-less movement so typical of Ancient technology. The sleek craft shot forward, the gate room blurring into the familiar split-second of wild disorientation before they were spat out.

Except they weren’t. Something had gone wrong. Instead of emerging into a new world, they were hurtling along a snaking, whirling tube of energy.

“This isn’t good,” Sheppard growled. “Oh, this is really not good…”

The HUD ran with strange figures. The Jumper lurched sideways, scraping along the edge of the wormhole limits. McKay was thrown roughly against Ronon as the Jumper listed crazily.

“What is happening?” Teyla yelled.

“Ask McKay!” Sheppard snapped, battling for control of the Jumper.

“What? This isn’t my fault!” McKay protested, heart thumping with alarm. “This didn’t happen to the MALP!”

Unbuckling himself with fumbling fingers, he stumbled over to a control panel in the rear of the Jumper — and was nearly hurled straight into it by a fresh yaw sideways. “Keep this thing on the road, will you?”

“You wanna fly?” Sheppard looked like he was struggling to maintain control.

“We’ve got massive power loss,” shouted McKay, desperately flicking a series of controls. “We’ll need to use the Jumper’s own supply to get us out.”

Teyla gave him a sharp look. “Can you do it?”

“If I can’t, we’re beyond screwed!”

“Any time you’re ready…” Sheppard ground out.

John pulled the Jumper into a long, tight arc that rolled waves of nausea around McKay’s stomach. He swallowed hard.

“OK, OK! I’m there. Are you getting anything now?” The Jumper swooped dizzyingly and McKay clamped his jaw shut, making a mental note to check the inertial dampeners.

“I’ve routed all power to navigation,” Sheppard barked. “Something’s picking up on the display. I think we’re on the way out.”

McKay slumped back in his seat and attempted to buckle up. “This didn’t happen to the MALP,” he muttered. “Zelenka must have gotten something wrong with the calculations. I should have run a final check myself. If you want something done…”

He stole a quick glance at Ronon and Teyla. The huge Satedan was untroubled. Nothing seemed to faze him. Teyla was similarly stoic. They were both far too calm. God, he hated that.

The Jumper lurched again. The readings suddenly changed, and a stream of data cascaded across the screen.

“OK, we’re getting out of this,” announced Sheppard. “Get ready. We’ll be coming in hot.”

McKay closed his eyes. “Ironic.”

The swirling mass of energy in the forward viewscreen coalesced into the more familiar shape of a bubbling event horizon. The Jumper gave a final, bone-shaking shudder, slamming Rodney hard against the hull. A microsecond later, and they were through the gate.

Sheppard felt like whooping.

But it wasn’t over yet. Everything skewed, bounced and jumped as the gravitational forces suddenly changed. He compensated. Too late. The Jumper skidded, grazing something jagged and hard, before careering back into the air. The whole ship rolled around like a drunkard.

“For God’s sake!” cried McKay, hanging precariously on to his seat. “Land the damn thing already!”

Sheppard ignored him. The atmospheric readings were crazy, the Jumper’s power near zero. Sixty percent of the primary systems were damaged and they’d emerged into the mother of all storms. Perfect.

“I’m gonna have to put her down now!” he cried. “Keep it tight. This is gonna be bumpy.”

Flying on little more than gut instinct, Sheppard dipped the nose of the Jumper five degrees. The thick cloud rushing past them got thicker and the Jumper’s entire hull began to judder. The shielding was critically weak.

Suddenly, a gap appeared in the cloud ahead. For a split-second Sheppard had sight of an ice field. It was enough to mentally calculate the angle of descent. The Jumper responded instantly and they plummeted downwards, the viewscreen white and useless. Somewhere below, the land was rushing up to meet them.

With a heavy crunch, they hit the ice. Plumes of loose snow billowed up, momentum plowing them onwards, grinding and churning across the ice field. Metal twisted and shrieked, equipment shook loose and crashed into the cabin. Sheppard thought his teeth might rattle loose from his skull. And then the power failed, plunging them into darkness.

It took an eternity, but at last the Jumper slowed to a painful halt. The viewscreen was still obscured by the white-out and they sat for a moment in a shadowy stillness.

Ronon broke it. “Good job, Sheppard.”

John just nodded in the dark, not trusting himself to speak; his hands were still shaking.

“That was expert flying,” agreed Teyla, unbuckling herself and climbing to her feet. “But I do not believe we are safe here. With power supplies so low, this storm is a danger.”

“Reckon you’re right.” With effort, Sheppard brought his breathing under control. “Break out the survival suits. If we have to bail, I want something warm and orange to wear.”

“Now?” said McKay. “You’re kidding me. I’m not heading out there until this storm has blown over. Who knows, it might be a short one.”

“Or a long one,” said Ronon bleakly. “Or maybe it’s always like this.”

Sheppard nodded. “Can’t stay here without power,” he said. “No light, no heat, no air. I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re gonna suit up now while we have the chance.”

McKay looked briefly rebellious, but then a huge surge of wind buffeted the Jumper and the entire ship rocked. From beneath them, came an ominous, echoing sound of ice cracking.

Rodney swallowed nervously. Even Sheppard felt his heart miss a beat. That sounded pretty bad. Jumpers were robust things, but you still didn’t want to be inside one, without power, halfway down a crevasse.

McKay began to rummage for his gear. “Having considered the options further, perhaps you’re right.”

It didn’t take long to suit-up, and soon they were ready to evacuate the stricken Jumper.

“Take as many rations as you can carry,” Sheppard ordered.

“We’re going to freeze,” McKay muttered. “More importantly, that gate’ll be fried. Fried closed.”

There was another long, echoing crack from beneath the Jumper. The cabin shifted slightly to the left and Teyla had to brace in order to keep her footing.

“OK, time’s up,” said Sheppard sharply. “Let’s move.”

The rear door opened with a whine. Immediately the interior of the craft was filled with swirling, buffeting snow and sleet. The temperature plummeted. Even inside his suit Sheppard could feel the sudden chill. It was like a shard of ice right in the guts.

“Out!” he barked.

Ronon produced a line of rope.

“Use this,” he said, looping it around his waist and passing the cord to Teyla.

“Nice thinking,” said Sheppard, leaning into the wind. Getting separated out there didn’t bear thinking about. “Any Eagle Scouts on Sateda?”

Once they were all connected, Ronon strode out into the open. He was followed by McKay and Teyla. Bringing up the rear, Sheppard ducked under the lintel of the Jumper exit. He tried to close the rear door, and failed. No power. It would have to stay open.

He quickly took in the situation. The sky was heavy, low and gray. Visibility was about twenty meters, the air thick with gusting snow. There was no let-up in the gale, and no means of getting oriented. The power of the wind was massive — he had to push hard into the gust to stay on his feet — and there was no chance of being heard over the storm, so he was glad of the comm link built into the hood of his suit and facemask.

For a moment, he wondered if leaving the Jumper was such a good idea. Even without much life support, it was at least shelter from the wind. But then there was another crack and a few meters away a whole tranche of snow sank into the ground. The rocks — or whatever — under his feet tangibly shifted. This was no place to linger.

“OK, guys,” he barked. “Let’s keep moving and find some shelter.”

“What a great idea,” came McKay’s sarcastic voice. “I mean, I’d never have thought of it. Goddamn it, I can’t feel my toes.”

“Wrap it up, Rodney,” warned Sheppard.

The team began to wade through the knee-deep snow away from the stranded Jumper. Before the machine was lost to view, Sheppard noticed the last lights flicker and die along its flanks. With the Jumper down and the wormhole status unknown, the mission was in danger of degenerating into a deadly farce. He needed some luck, and needed it fast.

Even walking in a straight line was hard. Once they were a few paces from the lee of the Jumper the wind screamed across the ice, throwing the snow up in gusts. The cold was incredible. The USAF cold weather gear was designed for extreme conditions, but it seemed like it was barely there. Sheppard felt himself begin to succumb to shivering. He kept his breathing shallow.

Once away from the landing site, making any sense of their location soon became impossible. Footprints were scoured from the snow almost as soon as they were made. Sheppard looked at the compass built into his wrist-strap — as long as they maintained a constant direction, they wouldn’t lose the ship. But that was scant comfort. They needed to get out of the storm.

They plowed on. Only Ronon was strong enough to keep his posture. McKay was bent nearly double into the wind, cursing under this breath as he went, the expletives crackling over the intercom; Sheppard knew he’d be in trouble after too much punishment. Already, he felt his own fingers begin to ache from the cold.

Then, just as Sheppard began to wonder if they’d better head back to the Jumper, Ronon stopped trudging and turned around. He obviously thought the same.

“See anything, Sheppard?” he yelled.

Sheppard shook his head. “Nothing! We’ve got to go back!”

“Hail, strangers!” came a dim voice from the howling storm.

Sheppard adjusted the comm link in his hood and wiped the visor of his mask with a snow-encrusted glove. “Who said that?”

“He did,” said Ronon.

Sheppard peered into the white-out as figures emerged from the murk. They were massive and furry, and he immediately thought of the abominable snowman. Only as they came closer did Sheppard see that they were human, but clothed in many layers of thick, white fur. Each of them had a hood over their head and masks over their faces, their voices muffled and indistinct but just audible over the screaming wind.

“After so long!” said one of them, his voice cracking with emotion. “The portal has opened again!”

“You have come back,” came another voice, addressing Sheppard. “I knew this day would come.”

Sheppard looked at Teyla, then Ronon, then back to the newcomers. Even within the suit he was beginning to shake uncontrollably, the Jumper was wrecked, and the gate inoperable — the situation could hardly have been more desperate. There wasn’t really a whole lot of choice. “That’s right,” he said. “We’re back. And right now, we could really use some shelter.”

The man’s eyes smiled. “Come with us,” he said. “We’ll lead you to safety.” He beckoned the team to follow and turned back the way he’d come.

“Oh good job,” sniped McKay. “Make first contact with the locals and impersonate their long lost friends. There’s no way that can go wrong. After all, it’s never gotten us in trouble before.”

“Button it, Rodney, we’ve got no choice.” Sheppard peered through the snow at his team. “But stay sharp, we don’t know what we’re getting into here.”

“Oh I think we do,” McKay grumbled as he stomped after the strangers. “And it begins with a capital T.”

As the fire did its work, feeling gradually returned to Teyla’s feet.

She sat with the others in a chamber set deep underground. A healthy blaze crackled and spat in the central hearth and torches flickered against the rock walls, bathing the room in a gentle ambient light. The surroundings were simple, but clean and warm. A few tapestries hung from the walls and woven mats blunted the worst of the harsh rock floor. Many of the hangings had stylized pictures of animals and hunting scenes. The familiar images reminded Teyla of home.

Around her shoulders Teyla now wore a lavish fur cloak — a gift from their hosts. It was beautifully warm, and it had not taken long for the effects of her brief foray into the storm to abate.

It hadn’t been a long trek from the gate to their rescuers’ settlement, but they would never have stumbled across the entrance by themselves. The people of the place appeared to live deep within a series of caves and fissures, the entrance to which had been obscured by heaped snowdrifts. The team’s attempts to find shelter had in fact taken them some distance in the wrong direction — the underground dwellings were very close to the Stargate, and there’d been a painful trek back the way they’d come before being led out of the wind.

Once through the main gates of the settlement, they had been taken down a series of winding tunnels towards the main living chambers. Fur-clad children had come to gape at them as the team passed the open doorways and halls, still dressed in their snow-covered environment suits. Fires burned in the deep places, keeping the tunnels and rough-hewn chambers both warm and well-lit.

Having given them food and a place to recover, their hosts had left them alone to regain their strength. It was a courteous gesture and one Teyla appreciated. In some ways, their manner reminded her of her own people, as if a splinter group of Athosians had found itself flung across the galactic plane and isolated for many thousands of years. The thought intrigued her; there was no telling what wonders the Ancestors had performed in the days of their hegemony.

With a satisfied sigh, McKay finished the last of his second bowl of soup and sat back against the wall. “This situation is improving,” he said. “Definitely improving. I’m almost glad I came. I wonder if we can get more of this soup?”

Sheppard looked less certain. “Enough to keep you happy?” he said. “I doubt it. Any idea what happened back there?”

Rodney shook his head. “Not until I can take a proper look. And, frankly, until that storm blows over I’ve no intention of finding out.”

“The storms must lift,” said Ronon. “These people eat, they hunt. They can’t hunt in that.”

From outside the small chamber came the sound of footsteps.

“Remember, we need these guys,” whispered Sheppard. He shot McKay a hard look. “So let’s all be on our best behavior.”

Teyla turned to face the low doorway as two men and a woman entered and bowed low. Lean and hardy-looking, they were dressed from head to foot in the pale furs all their people wore. Their skin was milky and their hair dark and straight. The leader, a man, wore a brightly colored torque around his neck and, though clearly old, appeared lively and vigorous.

“Greetings, honored guests,” he said, his voice quiet and measured. “I am Aralen Gefal, Foremost of the Forgotten People. This is my daughter, Miruva, and my chief of hunters, Orand Ressalin. You are most welcome here. We have waited long for your coming.”

Sheppard inclined his head awkwardly and introduced the team. He wasn’t good at formal greetings. “We’re pretty pleased to see you too, Aralen,” he said. “You guys showed up right on time.”

Aralen smiled. “The portal to Sanctuary has not operated for ten generations. Orand witnessed the strange machine come through it some days ago, and then we knew that some work of the Ancestors would not be far behind. Some claimed we’d been abandoned, but others of us have kept the faith. We have been rewarded at last.”

Sheppard looked uncomfortable. “Well, we’re not exactly — ”

“You must be tired after your journey,” Aralen interrupted. “Please, sit. We have come to hear what your task is, here on Khost.”

“So that’s what this place is called,” said McKay, sitting down heavily on the pile of mats he’d accumulated. “Nice name. Lousy weather.”

“You are far from other worlds,” said Teyla, eager to find out more. “We are curious to learn about your people, Aralen.”

The leader of the Forgotten frowned. “Surely you know all about us? You came through the portal to Sanctuary. You must have knowledge of the Ancestors, of their plan for us.”

Teyla looked at Sheppard. These early moments were always awkward. How much did these people know of the wider galaxy? Where were their allegiances?

“Oh, you bet,” he said. “Well, kinda.” He paused. “Maybe you should fill us in on the details.”

Aralen looked surprised, but then inclined his head graciously. “Of course,” he said. “We are the Forgotten. You may think it a strange name, but it is apt. We have been alone for a long time. Some think we’ve been abandoned by the Ancestors altogether, but the wise know that cannot be so. The years have been heavy, and much has changed. The lore-keepers tell us that once Khost was green and good, our people flourished and our villages were numerous. The Ancestors walked among us then. We call this the Blessed Time.”

Orand gave a skeptical snort. “These are, of course, mere legends,” he said. “Not all of us believe them.”

“Our young people have their own ways,” Aralen said with a tolerant smile. “But the lore-keepers preserve the legends for us, and I trust their wisdom.”

McKay frowned. “This place was green once?” he said. “Wow. That’s what I call climate change. What happened?”

A shadow passed over Aralen’s face. “There was some transgression. Many speculate what it could have been. For myself, I do not claim that knowledge. But the health left this place, the snows came ever more strongly, and then they never left. Life became hard and many died. Now we are cursed by the cold at all times.”

He drew closer, his voice low.

“Khost is dying, travelers. You should be careful. If you stay here too long, you’ll die too.”

It had no name. It knew it had once had a name, but like so much else, that had been forgotten. All that remained was a list of numbers and letters. Even that was corrupt. There was so much that it couldn’t do, now. It looked down on the humans clustered below. Most were familiar. Several of them were already requisitioned, stored on the lists for processing. One was earmarked for early removal.

But the others were new. This was outside the generally accepted conditions. It might pose a threat to the Great Work.

It ran over the options. It was always so difficult to think clearly. It would need to confer with the others. But that would take time, make it weak. Perhaps the Great Work demanded action now.

It looked down, considering the humans.

Not yet. But it would come soon. It could feel itself weakening. There was only so long it could watch and wait without acting.

Very soon it would make a decision. Then it would come for the names on the list. They would scream, just like they always did. That had never stopped it before. Nothing could stop it. The only thing was timing.

It watched, and waited.

“What do you mean, dying?” said Sheppard. He didn’t like the gleam in Aralen’s eye.

“The storms get worse. Every time we have a big one, we think it will be the last. And there are other things…”

“You think the Ancestors abandoned you?” interrupted McKay. “Because that’s interesting. There was a recording we saw before we — ”

He bit his lip, looking at Sheppard. John shot him an irritated look.

Aralen shook his head. “They will never abandon us. There is the portal, the passage to Sanctuary. That knowledge is preserved among us. We know that one day we shall be gathered up in the halls of restitution, so you must know why you are such a sign of hope for us. Never in ten generations has the portal opened! Now you come. Surely, you will teach us the route to Sanctuary, and what we must do to restore the favor of the Ancestors.”

Sheppard looked awkward. “Well, perhaps we can get on to that later,” he said. “I’ve gotta be honest, it’s a bit… colder than we’re used to out there. It’ll take us time to orient ourselves.”

“Of course. I can see that you are not used to the ice. No doubt Sanctuary is more pleasant. Khost is a hard place to live.”

“And yet you survive,” said Teyla. She felt a strange and unexpected kinship with the Forgotten; the stories of her people and theirs were different, but each had survived against the odds.

The woman, Miruva, turned to her with pride in her eyes.

“We endure,” she said. “We are strong and can sustain much hardship.” She waved at the stone walls around them. “We learned the arts of carving the ice from the caves and keeping them warm. This place was once a network of dark and empty caverns, choked with snow. We have turned it into our city. This is where the remnants of our people live, harboring what we have left from the endless storms above. We make the best life we can.”

“Interesting,” mused Rodney. “A totally troglodytic lifestyle. Like the Genii, at a lower level of technology. But how do you source your fuel? And keep the air filtered?”

Aralen raised an eyebrow. “We can explain all these things, and more, in due course. But though you are most welcome here, you must understand that your presence amongst us has caused much excitement. You have come through the portal. There are some who say that you are from the Ancestors, ready to lead us to a new paradise. I am afraid that others have more superstitious beliefs, and fear your intentions. Forgive my candor, but I must tell the people something. My own belief is that you are indeed from Lantea. Is this the truth?”

Sheppard shot Teyla a quick look. “Look, I hate to break it to you,” he said, “but if you think we’re Ancients, you’re gonna be disappointed. They don’t get around much any more. You should just think of us as… travelers.”

“So you’re not from the Ancestors?” Aralen looked deflated. Orand just gave a bitter, knowing smile. “When I heard the portal had revived, I was so sure…”

“I’m sorry.” Sheppard scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Real sorry. But if we can help you, we will — and that includes fighting the Wraith.”

Aralen hardly seemed to hear him. He was crushed. Orand, however, looked curious.

“The Wraith?” he said. “What is the Wraith?”

Ronon looked up, his eyes flickering darkly. “You never heard of the Wraith?” asked the Runner.

Orand shook his head, surprised by Ronon’s vehemence. “The Foremost told you, we are alone here. There is just us, the snow, and the White Buffalo. That is all. We know nothing of your Wraith.”

“It is good that you know nothing of the Wraith,” Teyla said. “Consider that the greatest of blessings.”

There was a difficult pause, but Miruva was quick to smile again. “Clearly, we have much to learn from one another,” she said. “I am not sure why you have come, nor what your arrival means for us, but it must presage some good for us. I am glad I lived to see this day.”

“So am I,” said Teyla, seeing much in the girl’s quick, lively expression to like. It was rare to find a people the Wraith had not ravaged. Rare, and refreshing.

The old man, Aralen, roused himself. His earlier satisfied pleasure had evaporated.

“So be it,” he said, and his voice was quiet. “You are not the emissaries from the Ancestors I had hoped for. But travelers you are, and such a thing has not been known on Khost in memory. We have not forgotten our hospitality, whatever else may have been cast aside. Perhaps in time you will see that your coming is indeed part of the Ancestors’ plan after all.” Orand looked dubious, but Aralen ignored him. “Now that you have rested, may we show you more of our home? My people are anxious to meet you.”

Sheppard shrugged. “Sure, that’d be great.” As they filed out of the chamber behind Aralen, he drew close to Teyla and whispered in her ear. “This is going pretty well, don’t you think?”

“I like these people, Colonel,” she said. “Perhaps there will be something we can do to ease their plight.”

“Well, that’s a lovely idea, it really is,” hissed McKay from behind her. “But let’s remember what we’re here for; the Ancients were up to something on this planet and I’ll bet the changing climate is part of it. And if there are any more of them who think we’re messengers from the gods, then things are going to get tricky.”

“Keep your pants on,” said Sheppard under his breath. “One step at a time. Let’s hang tight for a while and find out a bit more. It’s not like I’m real keen on going outside again.”

McKay shuddered and drew his furs close. “You may have a point,” he agreed. “But remember, if we don’t fix the Jumper, we’re never getting out of here. We’ve seen no sign of a DHD anywhere, and even if we had there’s no way I’m walking through that wormhole of madness without a working ship around me.”

“No argument,” said Sheppard. “We’ll check out the gate when we can. For now, be glad you’re not still out there.”

With that, the whole group moved down the corridor and deeper into the underground settlement. Far above them, the wind howled and moaned, and the fury of the storm continued unabated.