Exogenesis

Chapter Seven

John hadn't been overstating his desert experience; he really did know what he was talking about. People who had flown a Pave Hawk helicopter through zero-visibility sand conditions and brought it back in one piece tended to think they'd seen it all. As usual, though, alien worlds didn't play by Earth rules. This wasn't like any sand he'd ever seen. This was granulated pain.

It didn't take long to make the connection. The storm seemed to be composed of two types of sand. Yellow grains were no more abrasive than what he'd encountered on Earth; it was the plumes of rust-colored stuff coming through in gusts that were doing the damage. A few grains settled into the folds of his sleeve and started to eat through the fabric before he managed to shake them off. Thankfully, his sunglasses offered some protection for his eyes, but the bulk of the storm hadn't reached them yet. When it did, their clothes would be wrecked in minutes, and their skin would be next.

"Here!" a woman's voice shouted, nearly swallowed up by the wind.

Since he hadn't brought any female team members on this mission, John risked lifting his head to locate the speaker. Through the dusky cloud, he caught sight of a robed, outstretched arm.

"This way. Quickly!"

Not needing to be told twice, John reached back toward Rodney's last known location. He came up with a fistful of his teammate's sleeve and pulled hard. "Come on! We're bugging out."

Ronon had been shielding himself and Beckett as best he could with his long leather coat. Now he ducked his head and yanked the doctor alongside to follow.

Barely visible only a few feet away, the woman's figure was covered from head to toe in robes that seemed impervious to the windbome assault. Bedouin Kevlar huh? John watched as she moved along a path that had been obscured in the reduced visibility. The path turned down, and the wind and scouring markedly dropped. He shoved Rodney ahead of him and ensured that Ronon and Beckett were right behind before following.

The woman led them under the cliff ledge and down to the village they'd observed from above. "Handy little passage," remarked Rodney, once he'd gotten his mild hyperventilation under control. "Once you know it's there, it wouldn't be hard to locate."

Up close, the buildings were even more impressive than they'd looked from a distance: solid, stable structures designed to withstand the scorching days and frigid nights that most deserts enjoyed. Openings for windows and doors were securely shuttered, presumably against the sandstorm, though a number of animals-medium-sized llama-type things-remained outside, looking unbothered. Half-built, half-carved out of the cliff face, the village might have been constructed ten decades or ten millennia ago.

The wide rock overhang now protected them from the worst of the storm. Still, they needed to find shelter before it really took over. The woman leading them moved swiftly, but without any kind of panic in her stride. John glanced up when the sky overhead darkened, and was relieved when their guide ushered them through a nearby entrance. She pulled the door closed behind them and the furious whistling immediately dulled.

They had entered a tall atrium that looked completely different on the inside than it had from the outside. The walls were painted with swirls of rich color, and large pots holding waxy-looking plants sat between stone benches painted in equally bright hues. The `ceiling' of the atrium, about thirty feet away, glowed with a light similar to what they'd found in Atlantis. The proximity of the Ancient structure beneath the sand dune suggested a connection.

The woman removed her outer cloak, revealing a short-sleeved dress, featuring the same rich tones as the frescoes, and stylish jewelry accented with highly polished stones.

"The storm will pass, but it may take time." Her expression somewhat apologetic, she shook out her robe and hung it on a peg on the wall beside hundreds of similar cloak-draped pegs. "I hope you were not alarmed."

"Nah, no sweat." Behind him, John heard a snort that sounded like Ronon. Traitor. "But we really appreciate you taking us in. I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard. My friends here are Dr. Rodney McKay, Specialist Ronon Dex, and Dr. Carson Beckett." He gingerly brushed a hand through his hair, hoping to shake out the firebrands that had stung his neck and scalp.

"I am Shira. You are welcome in my village."

Rid of the heavy robes, Shira was slight, with dark, intelligent eyes and a chestnut braid that hung well past her shoulders. If John had run into her on Earth, he would have pegged her for an attractive forty-ish, but he didn't have the first clue how long a year lasted on this planet.

"We do not often receive unexpected visitors." She took several stiff-haired brushes from another row of hooks behind the door and handed one to each of them.

"I can't imagine why not," Rodney said, though his sarcasm was tempered by appreciation for her efforts. He pulled off his jacket and carefully shook it out.

Shira didn't appear to take offense. Instead, she began brushing off Rodney's back. "These storms give little warning. Few people traveling through the Stargate when the red sands blow have a chance to return home. You need not fear the yellow sands," she pointed out when Rodney jerked away from Ronon shaking his dreadlocks. "They will not bum you."

"Yeah, about that." Elizabeth's first-contact guidelines, which John had promptly nicknamed Diplomacy for Dummies, didn't really recommend peppering their savior with questions right off the bat, but they were on a tight schedule. Besides, he was pretty damned curious about this whole setup. "Why did you risk getting caught in the storm to help us? And how is it that your clothes weren't"-his skin still felt a sunburn-like tingle in places, and he stuck a finger through a newly-formed hole in his sleeve-"damaged?"

"We are less susceptible." Shira turned to Carson next. Unselfconscious, she kneeled and dusted off a few reddish grains from his boots. Before he could object, she had already shifted her attention to John. "Having lived with it for so many generations, we have become tolerant to it. Our children are more at risk, and we do still require some protection. The outer garments you see here"-finishing her task, she looked across at the rows of cloaks- "and many of our possessions are made from plants and animal hides that readily endure the storms. However, our skin will withstand much more than that of any off-worlder."

"I'm a doctor." Carson tentatively reached out a hand. "A healer and scientist. Would you mind if I-?"

With an understanding smile, Shira held out her bare arm for him to examine. Now that John thought about it, her olive skin did look a little tougher than the average human's. It didn't noticeably affect her overall appearance, however.

As Beckett studied her arm, Ronon's gaze fixed on the wide, intricate bracelet that she wore. "I've seen that before," he said when John shot him a quizzical look. "Not that exact one, but jewelry like it. I've heard about these people."

Rodney, who was still patting himself down for red dust, spun toward him. "Is there some legitimate reason that prevented you from mentioning that fact earlier?"

The Satedan shrugged, unmoved by the other man's indignation. "I never said I knew the name or the gate address. I just remember hearing some tales. A planet with dangerous storms, people returning either badly scarred or not at all. With the sand, it makes sense"

"Yes, hindsight is terribly accurate that way, isn't it?"

"Give him a break, Rodney. He couldn't have known." John turned back to Shira. "Anyway, we're-"

"I know who you are." She looked unspeakably pleased. "Your ship tells me that the Ancestors have at last returned to Atlantis!"

Well, that was a curveball. Sort of

"You saw us arrive?" Rodney spluttered. "And didn't think to warn us sooner?"

"We're not the Ancestors," John hurried to say, tossing him a warning look. Hadn't McKay read the chapter on Not Pissing Off the Indigenous Population? "We traveled to Atlantis as explorers, but the city was destroyed by the Wraith." The lie came more easily each time he repeated it. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, but if a lie might keep his expedition alive, that was all he needed to know.

Shira's face clouded, and her smile faltered. "Oh! Such a tragedy." She led them across the atrium. "We have extensive records of Atlantis here. Although many of us have lived in hope that the Ancestors would one day return, an equal number believe their home had indeed been lost to the Wraith."

"The Wraith can be kind of infuriating that way."

"Still, you must be of Ancestor blood." She opened a door at the far end of the room and stepped through into a wide corridor whose walls were covered in more colorful designs. "Only they could operate the ships."

Despite being relatively isolated, these people had a surprisingly decent grasp of all things Ancient. Hopefully that meant finding Atlas's machine wouldn't be too difficult. "We're descendants of the Ancestors, more or less," John answered. The slight pressure change that popped his ears signaled that they'd just gone through a huge airlock of sorts. "Some of us call them Ancients, and we're trying to learn more about them."

Nodding sagely, Shira closed the door behind them. "To answer your question," she told Rodney, "I was collecting salt from the great pans when I heard the 'gate. I climbed the nearest dune in time to see you arrive and assumed you would make for the village. Instead you went to the cliffs. I hurried to you when I realized what would happen."

"You might think about posting warnings," Rodney griped, already examining a row of Ancient lettering on the nearest wall.

"We have, many times, but the shifting sands soon carry them away." A few paces along the corridor, Shira opened another door, this one with distinctive Ancient patterns etched on its smooth surface, and held out a welcoming hand to her visitors. "This is my home."

It was similar to the atrium, except that it had a definite lived-in feel, like an old-fashioned country kitchen. The walls were lined with shelves and copper pots and pans, and on the floor sat baskets of vegetables and grains. A long stone table stood in the middle of the room. Stacked at the far end were a collection of platters, one with a small paring knife and fruit scraps carelessly falling off the edge. Strewn elsewhere on the table were a collection of books and writing implements and mugs half-filled with water.

With an embarrassed shrug, Shira moved to clear the table. "I was not expecting guests. Please, sit, and I will bring you refreshments."

Spotting the imminent objection in Rodney's stance, John shot the scientist a warning glare. The urgency of their mission notwithstanding, in his experience, making friends with people generally got you a lot further than barging in and demanding things.

Shira began collecting the books when a bunch of small children darted in from an adjoining room. Giggling, two pushed between Rodney's legs, making him jump. "Where did they come from?" he demanded.

"Two are mine." Shira sent a scolding look at the oldest child and motioned to the dishes. She then handed the boy what were undoubtedly his schoolbooks and added, "The others are from the village."

Rodney glanced through the doorway. "These buildings are interconnected?"

"The entire community is joined. Were it not so, we would be shut inside our homes more often than we are free. The storms are frequent, and their length cannot be predicted."

"Then by all means, let's see the rest of the village." Rodney was starting to look edgy, and it couldn't solely be due to his focus on locating the exogenesis machine. When John cast a puzzled glance in his direction, the scientist said defensively, "Do I need to start a list of all the things that are bugging me right now`? Acid sand, enclosed spaces…kids…"

"Tetchy," Beckett said under his breath.

John shook his head and gave Shira a smile. "We'd love a tour, if it's not too much trouble."

"Of course, I understand." Facing her children, she gently admonished them, "Finish your work before play. And do not leave scraps of food lying around. I'll be back in a few minutes"

The entire structure of the village bore a definite similarity to the layout of Atlantis. The attached dwellings resembled mediumsized apartments connected by wide hallways. These periodically opened out into larger communal areas, some of which, if the cloaks on pegs were any indication, led outside. The levels didn't stack neatly on top of each other, but instead were offset, depending on how far into the cliff they extended. John still couldn't tell if the light originated from the `ceilings,' but it seemed the most likely explanation, even though most of the walls were made of the same type of stone as the cliff face.

For the inhabitants, life appeared to be going on as normal, in spite of the sandstorm raging outside. People milled around, talking to each other and corralling energetic children. Several markets were doing a brisk business, and an appealing array of smells wafted from a noisy line of food stalls. The whole place had a bazaar-type feel to it, something that Teyla would have appreciated.

For a moment, John's thoughts turned to his absent teammate. He hoped she was doing okay in that monster of a storm back home.

No one paid the visitors any mind except to proffer courteous smiles, and everyone looked reasonably attired, healthy and content.

"Dress aside, they're a bit like the Athosians, aren't they?" Beckett remarked. "Lovely folk."

Ronon seemed to share the sentiment. Although he still showed the perennial air of alertness that John appreciated, the Satedan definitely seemed to be loosening up a little.

"The Elders govern the village," Shira explained as they walked. "They will be most interested to meet you."

"So status is based on age?" John asked.

"Oh, no-the people choose who shall serve on the council. They are called Elders simply because children are not permitted to govern, although of course we seek the thoughts of all before important decisions are made."

Rodney reacted with surprise. "That sounds remarkably… civilized."

Nothing was wrong here-and that felt wrong. So far Polrusso was shaping up to be the most well-adjusted society they'd yet encountered, complete with dirty dishes and kids shirking homework. No abuse of power, no conflict of beliefs, no apparent servitude. John felt a little unsettled by all this normalcy, which was a sure sign that he had a really weird job.

As if on cue, the sound of muffled sobbing reached him, and he stopped to glance into the open doorway of another chamber. A distraught woman was sitting on a bench by the door, knees drawn up to her chest, rocking back and forth. As she wept, two other women comforted her.

When John looked to Shira for an explanation, her face was grave. "She lost her daughter a short time ago," she told them. "The child was barely old enough to walk."

"Poor lass," murmured Beckett.

Immediately John felt like a jerk for looking so hard for a flaw in this place. No matter how peaceful things looked here, accidents could still happen. Children could still die, and life could still be unjust. That was a universal constant.

"This is the council chamber." Shira led them through another open doorway. Inside, at a conference table of distinctly Ancient design, sat a group of four men and three women engaged in an animated discussion about something that sounded like crop rotation. They looked up at the team's arrival.

An eighth man with curly red hair and one badly pockmarked cheek entered from a nearby room. He was carrying a metal tray with an earthenware jug and collection of cups. "Ah! Shira," he declared, looking curiously at the newcomers.

"I bid you greeting, Elders," Shira said. "These travelers carry the blood of the Ancestors. They have seen Atlantis and can operate its vessels, having arrived here in one such ship!"

With obvious interest, the Elders quickly stood and came around the table while John introduced himself and his team.

"I am Vene, leader of the council," said the redhead, smiling broadly. "The heirs of the Ancestors are most welcome among us. Please"-he placed the tray on the table, ducked back into the other room and returned with additional cups-"please, this is wonderful! You must join us for tea"

"We appreciate that," John replied, shooting Rodney a preemptive glare. Ten minutes over tea could save them hours of searching, and there wasn't much else they could do while the storm continued outside.

"If you will excuse me," said Shira, "I should return to my children. No doubt they have already forgotten my instructions to finish their schoolwork."

Vene set down the mugs and grasped her hands. "I thank you for bringing the travelers here."

"So do we," John added, matching the Elder's sincerity. "Very much."

Bowing her head briefly in response, Shira stepped back from the group and left the room.

"It sounds like your people know a lot about the Ancestors." John wasn't sure where to begin. He glanced around the walls of the chamber, noting that they were decorated just as colorfully as the rest of the village. The semi-abstract jumble of blues and greens appeared to depict a rainforest environment that stood in sharp contrast with the desert world outside.

While Vend ground a few tea leaves into the bottom of each cup, another Elder held out a five-legged chair for Carson. "Most off-worlders find our dry air enervating. Sit and tell us of your travels"

Carson looked pleased at the prospect. "Thank you," he replied, easing off his pack. "I wouldn't mind a cup of tea."

"Yes, and I wouldn't mind knowing how you get your water," McKay added, making a beeline for the bookshelves along one wall.

"Give them a chance to at least say hello, Rodney," John rebuked, tossing an apologetic smile at Vene while he removed his own pack.

"That's perfectly all right, Colonel," the Elder replied, pouring the beverage. The lack of servants or even aides was, to John's mind, singularly refreshing. "We understand what it is to be curious, a quality we encourage in our children. It is only by asking questions that one can gain knowledge."

Meanwhile a second Elder had lifted a large binder from a bookshelf behind her, and began filing away the papers on the table. The documents were written in Ancient, and the diagrams confirmed John's first impression that the Elders had been talking about agriculture. It made a pleasant change from meeting leaders in the midst of devising battle plans, defensive strategies, or tactics to subjugate an unhappy populace.

"Our people have always kept careful histories," Vend continued. "It is our obligation to those who have gone before and those who will follow us. When the Ancestors were here, they contributed to our histories as well."

"So you know that they were working on a project to transform the climate of this planet," Rodney said, ever direct.

John winced, wondering if these people even knew about the terraforming process, but Vend replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "We have little understanding of the mechanisms they used, but the Ancestors did explain what was to occur. One day, water would flow like sands and fall from a sky turned white with billowing moisture. The abyss below"-he nodded in what presumably was the direction of the cliff-"would be filled to the brim with oceans, and life would thrive within, while the land would become a beautiful place where plants could grow and creatures roam."

Rodney removed his pack in order to retrieve his notebook, and sat down at the table. He began scribbling notes as the Elder talked.

With a wistful smile, Vene handed Carson a cup. "I have been off-world-not often, but I have seen such things as this. As have you, no doubt"

The doctor smiled and took a sip of his tea. "This really is quite good." His eyebrows lifted approvingly. "Thank you."

Ronon, who had remained standing, accepted a cup from another Elder and downed the contents in a few gulps, while Rodney, prudent as always when it came to matters involving his personal wellbeing, elected to wait until the brew had cooled.

"You don't know the specifics," John said. "But are there any records detailing what you do know?" He, too, took a cautious sip of tea and was surprised at its sweet, fruity flavor.

In response, Vene moved to one of the many shelves lining the walls. He contemplated the array of books for a long moment before selecting a slim volume. Placing it on the table before Rodney, he sat down and explained, "It is a children's schoolbook. We can show you books and documents with more detailed accounts, of course, but I think you will find this offers the most concise explanation."

Rodney looked dubious at first, but when Vend leaned across, opened the first page, and pointed to a diagram, the scientist was immediately engrossed. "Okay, this makes sense," he said absently, turning the pages with care. "As expected, in the first stage the atmosphere was created from elements in the planet's crust. Then hundreds of technicians were brought in to assist in the second stage, the robotic mining of preexistent smaller canyons to produce hydrogen and oxygen molecules-thus, water. Experience suggested that the best way to store all the water was in the vast landmasses, where chemical leaching ensured rapid salination, until the final stage when it would be released to form oceans."

"But that hasn't happened," Ronon pointed out.

Before Rodney could get started on his usual rant about obvious statements being the root of all evil, the female Elder who'd spoken earlier answered. "Our histories tell us that after the process had begun, two Ancestors, Atlas and Ea, came with a team to Polrusso to test a new method of faster transformation. The device they brought was called an exogenesis machine"

Hope flared in Rodney's eyes. "And you've just said the magic words." He pushed the book aside.

Just once, John wished Rodney would be a little less free with information. While these people seemed a decent bunch, he saw no reason to lay all of their cards on the table.

Vend's reply held only resigned acceptance. "We have believed for some time now that their research altered the original process."

The hope in Rodney's eyes shifted into incipient panic, and John understood why. If Atlas had triggered his second machine after all, odds were that it was beyond recovery. Like the one on Atlantis.

"Whether it was deliberate or not," Vend continued, "such an action of theirs can be the only explanation for why conditions such as the caustic red sand granules still exist. The Ancestors' records are very clear about the time span of the process. Based on the terraforming procedures used on other planets, Polrusso should have been completed generations ago."

"You've known that for years, and yet you've remained here, waiting all this time for a better world that might never come?" Carson asked.

With a small smile, Vend said, "Our world is our own; it is what we have known all our lives. As difficult a place as it may seem to you, it is not so bleak in our eyes. Still, we would like to see the process completed, so that our children may live on the planet of which our forebears dreamed."

Maybe they couldn't recover Atlas's machine, but with access to an original Ancient terraforming computer John felt confident that Rodney would be able to figure out something. "If we could take a look inside the building where the process was being controlled, we might be able to help your people."

Latching on to the idea, Rodney became reanimated. He turned his attention back to the book and flicked through the pages.

"We have tried in the past to enter the Ancestors' control facility. It is surrounded by an invisible wall that none can penetrate." Then it was Vene's turn to look hopeful. "But of course! You arrived in an Ancestor's ship." He sat up straighter and examined John intently. "You would help us?"

"We could at least take a look."

The energy in the room altered abruptly, and the Elders went off on a conversational tangent exploring the possibilities. Rodney, on the other hand, had gone unnaturally still. It was so out of character that Carson's query was edged with concern. "Rodney? What is it?" He leaned across to examine the open book.

Eyebrows lifting toward his hairline, Rodney mouthed something that looked like twelve, while his finger tapped manically against the page.

"Twelve what?" Ronon asked, also stepping forward to see.

John counted it a good thing that the Elders were otherwise occupied, because the avarice radiating from Rodney was downright embarrassing. "If this is correct…" The scientist looked up and stared at John with saucer eyes. "They have twelve ZPMs, none of which is more than ten thousand years old!"

Carson almost choked on his tea. John was getting a bit of a head rush himself, but in purely a good way. If Rodney was right, their options had… well, considerably expanded.

One Elder was pulling folders from a shelf, while the others talked about priority evacuation plans. "Whoa, whoa!" John pushed his chair back and stood. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. First we need to take a look at this place."

"Yes, of course. I'll take you there immediately." Vend rushed to his feet and all but ran around the table.

"It would be wonderful if you could do this for us" The female Elder, whose name John hadn't caught, added in a more cautious voice, "We have not encountered a people willing to perform a service without payment."

Applying his Scottish charm, Carson replied reassuringly, "My colleague and I are scientists." He lifted his pack and pulled it on. "Such things are of great interest to us."

Nodding approvingly, the Elder walked them to the door. "Gathering knowledge for its own sake is a worthy pursuit-something that I keep impressing upon my students. If nothing else, your being here will set a fine example for them."

Rodney had never been all that interested in architecture, but he'd already noted the use of Ancient-made metals and composites in the ceilings and doors. A few minutes into the group's walk through the village, decorated stone walls gave way to sleek gray corridors that closely resembled those of Atlantis. The laboratory couldn't be far.

According to Vend, the main facility had once been accessible from the top of the cliff-no doubt the structure Rodney had detected beneath that enormous mound of sand that they'd climbed on arrival. He was certain that half of the stuff was still inside his boots. Which raised an interesting point. The yellow sand was annoying, especially since it had worked its way into his socks, but it wasn't harmful. Presumably the rusty hue associated with the coarser granules was due to a highly acidic mineral, because oxidization alone could not be responsible for the burning.

"We'll need to get a sample of that red sand," he said to Carson. Its properties might also explain why his scanner had been unable to provide more detailed information on the Ancient building. The shield that surrounded the main lab unquestionably interfered with the signal, but the energy field couldn't account for everything.

Nodding absently, Carson replied, "I remember this place." At Rodney's look he amended, "You know what I mean. This was an Ancient outpost where their scientists monitored the planetary shaping and performed continuing research." He glanced around at the numerous doorways that lined the passage. "These were the living quarters for hundreds of technicians, most of whom were human."

"We believe we are descended from the people of which you speak. The buildings were extended by carving into the nearby cliffs." Uene stared at Carson curiously. "How is it that you `remember' such things?"

From the back of the group, Sheppard spoke up. "It's not exactly a memory."

"Aye," Carson added quickly. "It's something that I… saw."

Vene's expression shifted. "Ah! I have heard of such places. A room where an Ancestor stands on a podium and speaks of things past?"

Smiling weakly, Carson replied, "Something like that."

Rodney lengthened his stride, anxious to save time. He still didn't completely trust Carson's one-week estimate of Atlantis's situation. That aside, the prospect of securing as many as twelve ZPMs had provided an injection of adrenaline to his system that no amount of caffeine could match. His mind was already racing several steps ahead, exploring myriad possibilities.

Sheppard steered the conversation to a less ambiguous topic. "Uene, have your people settled elsewhere on the planet over the last ten thousand years?"

"Many communities have been established across Polrusso, all nestled within cliff faces. The eleven largest villages have been built around smaller laboratories where we believe the power modules to drive the terraforming are kept-the ZPMs, as you call them."

Which instantly rendered Rodney's budding plan inoperable. Or maybe not. "You do realize, of course, that once the water is released-"

"These areas, indeed, all of our homes, will be washed away, yes. Over the last ten generations, each village has built an entirely new settlement with extensive food and water storage facilities inland from their current location. This food and water is frequently replenished, but we cannot live there for any period of time, for we must plant new crops each season and we can only access the underground water from the cliff settlements. According to the Ancestors' maps, once the great flood begins, these new areas, which are on basement rock, will remain safe during the subsequent months of weather changes. At that point we will be able to plant the seeds we have acquired from other worlds to grow crops suitable to the newly generated climate."

Okay, that was promising. "How long would it take you to move there?"

"According to the texts, we should be alerted two weeks in advance of the release of all water. However, as we believe that there is something wrong with the machine, we fear that if-when-the time comes, we will be given little if any forewarning. Consequently, we have developed plans for immediate evacuation and methods of rapid communication between villages. If one area begins to collapse, we hope that, even if those villagers cannot save themselves, their warning will allow others to flee." Vend's voice became troubled. "It is not easy to live this way. Each dawn I wonder if this will be the day. And if so, will we have sufficient warning to escape with our lives?"

"Must be tough, in addition to coping with the Wraith and all," said Sheppard.

Beside Rodney, Vend's step faltered. He quickly recovered and kept moving. But if Rodney had noticed, there was no way Sheppard had missed it.

"Especially since they've become pretty active of late," the Colonel continued.

The Polrusson Elder was distinctly uncomfortable as he searched for a way to answer. A pause came and went before Ronon said, "One of the tales I heard was that this planet hosts a Wraith hive ship."

This time it was Rodney's turn to stumble. He wheeled on the Satedan. "Don't try to tell me you couldn't have mentioned that earlier."

"Does it change anything right now?"

"Other than my blood pressure?"

Ronon's look said something along the lines of my point exactly. The man appeared to delight in pushing Rodney's buttons, a hobby for which he seemed to have an unusual aptitude.

Their team leader didn't look thrilled, either. "Vene?" Sheppard asked, his tone pointed.

"Your friend speaks the truth," admitted the Elder, his voice heavy with regret. "We had hoped to conceal it from our trading partners and especially from you. It was when the Wraith came that Atlas and the other Ancestors abandoned our world."

"Well, we're not going anywhere just yet," Sheppard assured him. "But it's good to know these things so we can be prepared."

Apparently dealing with a berserker terraforming machine wasn't enough fun for the week. No, they had to run into some Wraith as well. Nobody could say the Pegasus Galaxy didn't have a sense of humor.

When the laboratory entrance came into view Rodney pushed his various thoughts of doom aside. Because the design so closely resembled many of the devices they'd found on Atlantis, it didn't take long for him to locate the control panel for the force field. "I'll just be a minute here," he told the others. "Feel free to keep discussing the minor problem of having life-sucking monsters in residence."

Taking Rodney up on his suggestion, Sheppard turned to Vend. "I have to say I'm a little surprised that your people have done so well."

"That is only because the hive ship appears not to have fully woken."

"Do you know where this ship is?"

Which was enough to make Rodney lose his grip on one of the crystals. Scrambling to recover it, he swung around to face the Colonel and demanded, "Tell me you're not contemplating-"

"No, Rodney, I'm not quite as dumb as I look," Sheppard replied with a tight smile. "Just curious. How about you get back to work?"

Rodney was absolutely certain that he could feel Ronon's smirk behind his back, but resisted the urge to comment. The sooner he could get them into this lab, the sooner they could find out what he needed to know-and make a strategic withdrawal before Sheppard went into hero mode.

"Nabu and his minions live in the great abyss that will one day become the deepest part of our oceans," Vene explained.

Small mercies. At least this Wraith already had a name, so Sheppard couldn't tag him with `Steve' or `Bob.'

"Although most of their kind still sleep, Nabu and some of his dreaded horde often emerge to wreak havoc on our villages. They defile young women and steal children from their beds."

"That poor lass we saw on the way to the council chambers," Carson said with a flash of insight. "Although we've never heard of the Wraith specifically targeting young children before. If anything, they seem to leave them alone in favor of adults."

"Yeah, but we'd never seen humans worship Wraith before that pleasant little outing with Ford a few months ago, either," Sheppard reminded him. "Different hives don't always follow the same MO."

Still focused on his efforts to disable the force field, Rodney was listening with half an ear. He agreed that it didn't make a lot of sense for Wraith to go out on kidnapping sprees, and assaulting women certainly was a new and ugly twist, but he'd long since given up on expecting things in this galaxy to make sense.

"Nabu is the bane of our existence." Vene's voice had adopted the same bitter tone that Rodney had heard on too many planets. "He only raids the villages during the sandstorms. Some among our people suspect that he controls the storms, or has otherwise caused the terraforming machine to fail."

Although this was an unlikely stretch, it seemed only human to draw a cause-and-effect relationship between bad things happening and the Wraith. Hell, there were days when Rodney considered blaming the lack of butterscotch pudding in the mess hall on the damnable creatures. After all, it was the Wraith's fault that Atlantis now played host to considerably more Marines, and Marines tended to eat a lot.

Resetting the final crystal, Rodney watched in satisfaction when the bluish shimmer of the force field winked out. "And we're in," he announced with an exaggerated sweep of his hand toward the door. Ronon rolled his eyes, but Sheppard gave him a quick nod of acknowledgement. Vend gasped in elation.

The lab's expansive interior bore a striking and unsurprising resemblance to the main labs on Atlantis. Clearly Vene had never seen such a place before. He stood stock-still about two meters inside the doorway, awed and doubtless intimidated by the array of exotic technology.

Rodney set to work on a rapid catalogue of the lab's contents, trusting that Carson could locate the exogenesis machine-assuming it was still here. Finding Atlas's experimental device would obviously be the jackpot, but until informed otherwise Rodney was working under the assumption that it had been used to interfere with Polrusso's terraforming. Given what they knew of the Ancient Council on Atlantis, Atlas had most likely hidden that fact from the Council. Yet one more aspect about the Ancients that Rodney found less than admirable.

For now, he would focus his efforts on determining how to shut down Polrusso's terraforming machine. The implications of obtaining twelve ZPMs for the defense of both Atlantis and Earth were, in short, phenomenal.

Okay, maybe not twelve ZPMs. No reason to be greedy. The Polrussons could probably do with one to power a decent shield that would deal with a necessarily abrupt climate change. And perhaps a second ZPM as a backup. But Rodney had no doubt that the Polrussons' gratitude would assure him of securing, say, eight or nine. Even six would provide sufficient power to implement a scheme that, until now, even he had considered impossible.

The lab had been well sealed from the sandstorms; after sitting idle for ten millennia all the equipment was nearly pristine, although none of it was powering up in the way that Atlantis had. Of course, Janus and the time-traveling Elizabeth had prepared Atlantis for the team's arrival. Here, Rodney would almost certainly be required to use his gene to initiate the necessary equipment.

Crossing the room to the main database computer, a considerably smaller version than the Atlantis model, he laid his hand against the touch pad. After a moment, the bottom third of the screen lit, displaying a single line of text-the Ancient equivalent of a command prompt. That was a start. Atlantis's computing team had developed a standard set of instructions for initializing equipment found in the city. He'd memorized the complete file months ago.

"Hey, Rodney." Sheppard was moving around the room, eyes scanning a set of storage shelves. "If we managed to reboot the terraforming machine on this planet, the ocean would fill, right?"

He really didn't have time to teach Terraforming 101, but Sheppard would no doubt keep asking until he got an answer, so Rodney decided to humor him. "Gravity isn't just a good idea, it's the law," he replied distractedly, tapping out line after line on the Ancient keyboard. "The reservoirs, like the one I noted on the way in, would be released almost instantly and empty into the lowest point of land."

"Which is the basin where this hive ship is probably buried."

The man had a point. "The ship would be flooded within a couple of hours." Rodney glanced over his shoulder at the Colonel, who raised an eyebrow. "There'd be no way they could all awaken and escape."

"It'd sure be a nice fringe benefit."

"This is possible?" Vene sounded almost afraid to hope. "We can rid our world of the Wraith?"

"Perhaps. Theoretically." When the computer came to life, Rodney allowed himself a moment to enjoy his success before starting a preliminary scan of the database. "First I'd have to get a grasp on how the original terraforming process works. Of course, I'm still hoping to run across Atlas's machine, since it would come in really, really handy about now. But there's a lot of data here, so I may be able to pull enough useful information out of it to make this work for all of us."

"Go ahead and take notes, or do whatever you need to do," Sheppard told him. "We'll finish up the treasure hunt."

"Treasure hunt?" Vene asked.

"We consider anything new to be treasure, scientifically speaking," Carson explained.

While Ronon and Vene moved into the next room, a storage area, Rodney set up his laptop on a high bench and connected it to the Ancient computer.

Some time later, he heard the Colonel ask quietly, "Got anything?"

He looked up, about to reply, and realized the question had been directed at Carson.

Leaning forward, both arms propped on a nearby bench, the doctor sighed. "No. I can see this entire facility in my mind. I even know what some of the equipment was designed to do. But I can't reach in and find the one piece of information that we need."

"It's okay. Rodney'll figure something out, even if we can't find the exogenesis machine" Sheppard turned. "Won't you?"

"Sure. Well, maybe. At the very least, I think we can solve the Polrussons' problem, and that ought to get us closer to solving our own."

"You have a problem on your world?" Vend inquired, walking back inside.

Swiveling around in his chair, Rodney replied, "Well, of course we've-"

"Got a problem with the Wraith, just like everyone" Sheppard fired a warning look in Rodney's direction. "We're hoping that any technology we find can aid us in that."

"You've had some success?" Vend's whole bearing took on a hopeful air.

"We've done okay," Sheppard replied.

Deciding that he was better off concentrating on the task at hand, Rodney turned back to his computer. "I need to compare this with some of the records back"-he almost said `on Atlantis.' Reason number four hundred and sixty-one why he would never have made a good secret agent- "home. And if Radek's done malingering in the infirmary, he can make himself useful crunching numbers." He selected the relevant files and began downloading them onto his laptop.

Wearily lifting himself off the chair, Carson said, "I'm ever so sorry, Colonel. But I'm absolutely certain that it's not here "

"Of what do you speak?" Vene asked.

"We thought that if the exogenesis machine was in this lab," Rodney replied, "we could discount it interfering with the original terraforming program. That would have made my life considerably simpler, because then I could have pinpointed your problem more readily." Which, he thought rather proudly, was an accurate rendition of the truth.

"That's it," he declared when the download was complete. "The Ancient computer here doesn't have the data required to achieve what I need in a reasonable time frame. But even without Atlas's machine, I think I may have an alternative solution." With Sheppard's warning fresh in his mind, Rodney knew better than to elaborate.

"Can we get back to the 'gate yet?" Ronon asked. He studied a large window, but nothing was visible through the pane except unmoving sand. "How do you know when the storm has passed?"

Vene stepped to the door. "We can return to the village and find out."

Moving to follow, Sheppard passed by a small panel mounted on the wall. Immediately it flashed, and a previously unnoticed door slid open, spilling bright, natural light into the room-along with a tremendous cascade of sand.

"Aaahh!" Rodney dived under the lab bench, instinctively hugging the laptop to his chest to protect it against the expected onslaught. When it didn't come, he slowly climbed to his feet, seeing others do the same. To his relief, he noted that the sand was pale yellow.

Looking guilty, Sheppard came up out of his crouch. "On the plus side, we know the storm's over," he offered lamely.

Rodney glared at him. "Your ATA gene needs a leash."

"I didn't even know the door was there. It's not like I opened it on purpose"

"All the more reason!"

Making his way over drifts of the apparently benign sand, Ronon walked through the airlock and looked out. As usual, the Satedan summed it up succinctly. "Back door."

The team moved to join him, and Rodney couldn't repress a satisfied "Aha!" at seeing his earlier suspicions confirmed. All of fifteen meters away were the Stargate and DHD. Beside the latter rose a bizarrely shaped sand drift that had blown up against the currently invisible jumper.

Sheppard turned to Vene with a broad smile. "Guess we'll be taking the shortcut."

"You will return?" the Elder asked urgently, his eyes wide as he stared at the strangely lumped sand.

"We will. And soon."

"You have no idea how much this will mean to my people," Vene declared, accompanying them into the open. "This gives us tangible hope that some of our youngest generation might live to see our world as it was meant to be."

Outside, Sheppard pulled the remote from his pocket and pointed it in the direction of the weird sand drifts. The jumper materialized, prompting Vene to clasp his hands together in wonder.

"Glad to be of help," said the Colonel in a matter-of-fact voice. "Keep an eye out for us in case another storm blows up."

"On that count, we need to find a way to open and close this door." Rodney clambered over the mounds of sand at the entrance. The air was just as dry and the sun just as relentless as they had been prior to the storm.

"Perhaps it's automatic," Carson suggested. He squatted beside a patch of reddish-colored grains that had collected near the jumper and carefully scooped some into a tube bearing a biohazard symbol.

Sheppard motioned for everyone to back away from the airlock. The inner door closed immediately. The outer doors followed suit a few moments later, slowing when they encountered the drifts of sand. When he approached the entrance again, both doors reopened.

That settled, Rodney gave a perfunctory farewell to Vend, leaving Sheppard to fill in any remaining diplomatic niceties while he stepped into the jumper. The storm had ended none too soon for Atlantis's sake, and further exposure to the unrelenting sun would exacerbate the wasp-sting sand bums on his face and neck.

"Wonder how Teyla's doing," Sheppard said, heading up the ramp.

"With any luck, she isn't getting blown into the land of ruby slippers and the Lollipop Guild." Rodney did worry about her. If the environment they'd faced on this planet was harsh, the one their teammate had willingly entered was magnitudes worse.

Seated beside Teyla in Jumper Three, Lieutenant Corletti said, "Jumper Five, tell me what you've got up there."

"Ahell of a lot of convective activity, ma'am," reported Sergeant Smithson, dispatched to fly weather reconnaissance. "Vertical development on those clouds is twenty thousand feet, easy. Some other storm cells are starting to pop up, too, mostly around the poles. Doesn't make sense-the biggest storms are forming over the land. Give us a minute to get a better look at the weather over the Athosians"

Corletti glanced at Teyla and slid her hand forward on Jumper Three's power console. "Let's drop the hammer, boys and girls," she instructed the two jumpers flanking theirs.

Thanks to the jumper's inertial dampeners, Teyla experienced no sense of acceleration, but the speed readout began to increase. She returned her gaze to the windshield, already sheeted with rain. Ahead of them, she could only distinguish the horizon because of the huge expanse of darkness that enveloped the sky. "I have not sufficiently thanked you for your willingness to make this flight," she said to her pilot. "You were the first to volunteer, were you not?"

"I've got a big family," Corletti replied by way of explanation. "If I knew they were in trouble this bad, I'd pull a gun on someone to get there."

Teyla wished her relationship with her people could be so clearly defined. She was their leader, and yet so often she could not be among them. In making the choice to live and travel with the Earth team, she had acted to help the suddenly displaced Athosians as best she could. At the same time, she could not fault them if they sometimes doubted her sense of duty.

In truth, she felt duty-bound to both groups. When she had been preparing to brave the storm, Dr. McKay had at first tried to dissuade her. At Colonel Sheppard's subtle urging, the scientist had yielded and eventually given her a brusque but sincere wish of luck. Ronon had even offered to accompany her, but the journey was her responsibility. The expression on the Colonel's face just as he'd turned to leave had spoken clearly enough. He understood better than most the difficulty of divided responsibilities and loyalties.

The jumper bucked then, jostling her into the bulkhead.

'Pikes. It takes an awful lot to exceed the inertial dampeners' capabilities" Her mouth set in a hard line, Corletti made a quick adjustment to the controls and toggled her radio again. "How about that update, Smitty?"

"Ma'am, the worst of the storm looks to be heading away from the camps, further inland," Smithson said. "It doesn't seem to be losing strength, though."

When Jumper Three was again buffeted, nearly knocking them out of their seats, Corletti bit back a curse. "Roger that," she muttered. "Colonel, are you still on the line?"

"Right here," Caldwell's voice replied from Atlantis. "How much daylight have you got left, Lieutenant?"

"Almost none, sir."

"Then I suggest waiting until morning to effect evacuations. It'll give the Athosians time to gather everyone and assemble in the best possible locations for extraction."

Though it was not her place to object, Teyla could not be silent. "By morning, Colonel, the situation may have changed considerably. The storm may be unpredictable, but I believe we can be assured that the situation will only worsen."

"That is by no means a certainty," Caldwell argued. "The fact is, no one really knows what this machine will do. Even its creators never knew, because it was never tested."

Her rebuttal was cut off when the jumper tilted dizzyingly, dumping her onto the floor.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it," Corletti hissed, keeping her seat only by tightly gripping the armrests. "Everybody still hanging together?"

"Sort of, ma'am," came Smithson's answer. The sergeant sounded as though he'd had the breath knocked out of him. "I'm okay, but Donnelly just bit through his lip during the last bump, and he's bleeding pretty much all over the deck. Few stitches should deal with it okay."

"And it'll only be worse with the jumpers full of passengers." Over the radio, Dr. Weir's voice was resigned.

"We have to recall them," announced Colonel Caldwell. "Our resources are already divided between the city evacuation and the Daedalus repairs, and if they fly into that mess, we're only going to lose people"

In the pause that followed, Teyla heard her hopes slip away. She was not surprised when Dr. Weir said softly, "I'm sorry, Teyla. Jumpers, return to base."

The latest blast of wind shear rocked them violently, and Teyla barely managed to regain her seat. She heard static in her earpiece, but the view outside the windshield drew her focus. Seeing a rainblurred area of green and brown beyond the gray, she made one final attempt. "Dr. Weir, Jumper Three has the mainland in sight. We request permission to continue."

She looked over at Corletti, prepared to apologize for speaking for the both of them. But the Marine made no objection, concentrating on performing a stable descent.

The response from Atlantis was garbled. Their ship was tossed hard, its nose pitching up to near vertical before slamming back down. "Crap, I'm losing it!" Corletti's hands flew over the controls, but the planet's surface suddenly loomed ever larger in front of them. "Oh, God… Hang on. We're going in!"