The Chosen

Chapter Twenty-three

The dark, cold place inside of Teyla had vanished as if it had never existed. Although she had not been able to sense the Wraith when they had first arrived on this world, she had nevertheless felt a vague disquiet that had also now vanished. Perhaps that was due to Major Sheppard’s killing the young Queens.

Now, with the certain departure of the Wraith would come even more recriminations. In the minds of the Dalerans, the Wraith attacked only when people strayed from Dalera’s laws. First they came in small numbers, to test the faith of Dalera’s followers. They had not attacked in full measure until strangers using Wraithcraft had arrived; strangers who did not worship Dalera, nor were they truly of Atlantis. Indeed, strangers who had decried the Daleran beliefs and worked to change them. Then and only then had the Wraith plundered what the Dalerans would nostalgically call their once peaceful world.

Such cynicism had been foreign to Teyla until recently, but she now recognized that what set the Dalerans apart from other planets in the Pegasus Galaxy was their isolation. With no knowledge of the Wraith cullings elsewhere, they would most likely fall back on their beliefs.

Teyla had indicated to the Nemst townspeople that they should return to the Citadel first. It took longer than expected for the transport to recycle, and she was considering the wisdom of waiting, when the lights warned that someone was returning.

The doors folded back to reveal Lisera, Yann, and several Shield-bearing warriors. Peryn, who was now wearing a warrior’s uniform, was also with them. The look of unhappiness on all of their faces was clear.

“Our people owe you a debt of gratitude that we are unable to pay,” Yann said, stepping out of the transport.

“See?” McKay tossed a smug smile in Teyla’s direction.

“Rodney.” Major Sheppard’s eyebrows lowered warningly. “Let the man finish.”

Yann averted his eyes for an instant, then turned back to them. “Nevertheless I would suggest it is best that you depart Dalera and not return.”

“Excuse me?” McKay demanded. He turned around and raised his hands in the air. “This is the thanks we get for — Ow!” The scientist’s left leg buckled. He shot an accusing stare at Major Sheppard and limped around in a circle, favoring his left foot. “What the hell was that for?”

Ignoring him, Yann continued, “We were hard pressed to prevent many of the Nemst villagers, and indeed many from other villages, from returning here to punish you for bringing the curse of the Wraith upon us.”

“We brought the curse?” McKay was indignant. “Of all the insane—”

“Dr McKay,” Teyla warned him, “My boot is far heavier than Major Sheppard’s. And unlike the Major, I do not hold my blows.”

“We should not delay,” Yann continued, gesturing for them to step into the transport. “While the warriors have sworn fealty to me as the first Gene, several hundred Genes are now known. We believe the number may eventually exceed a thousand.”

“That’s good,” Major Sheppard replied. “It means that you should be able to make a real attempt at implementing Dalera’s long-term plan.”

“Without the need to resort to Wraithcraft,” Yann added. “However, the people of Nemst are determined in their resolve. They need find only one Gene to operate the transport in order to locate you.” He shook his head in shame. “Such thanks you do not deserve, but their voices are loud. I doubt we can quell them if you remain.”

Resting on the crutches that Dr Beckett had given her, Lisera offered Ford a smile that was no longer shy, or innocent. Teyla considered it more an expression of regality. An uneasy coldness touched her heart. Only the knowledge that so many Genes had been discovered tempered her fear that the Daleran society would once more be plunged back into the inequity that had driven both Dr McKay and Yann to act as they had.

“Hey, Lisera,” said Lieutenant Ford, moving closer. “You’re really getting the hang of those things. About the plaster—”

“The healer told me that he has used a similar method to set the bones of broken limbs. He assures me that the white rock can be removed with ease, when the time is right.” Lisera offered a wider smile to Yann, who came and stood by her side in an undeniably possessive manner.

“That’s…great,” Ford replied uncertainly.

Major Sheppard was talking quietly to Peryn, thanking him for his assistance and courage, and congratulating him on his newfound status as one of Dalera’s warriors. A Gene whom Teyla did not recognize touched the screen on the transport. Moments later, the doors opened to a familiar inn and the brisk smell of the ocean. This village, at least, had been left standing. That fact might yet give trouble to Yann, if there were others who thought as the townspeople of Nemst did and became resentful that the merchant had not suffered the same loss as they.

Lisera addressed them all. “I shall be forever grateful for having been privileged to see Atlantis. It is my hope that one day the Ancestors, including Dalera, will return there and take up their rightful position. Until that time comes, we—” She glanced around at the other Genes. “We will endeavor to lead our people as Dalera wished.”

McKay’s face hardened. He opened his mouth to speak, but Teyla’s warning look was sufficient. Curling his lips in distaste, he pulled the brace of Shields from around his neck, muttering something about Zelenka’s hypotheses having been proven useless anyway, and thrust the devices into Peryn’s hand before stalking out of the transport.

An uncomfortable silence followed, until Major Sheppard also removed his Shield and handed it to the young warrior. “Okay, well…Good luck.”

Touching his cap in farewell, Ford smiled at Lisera. “I kept my promise, right?”

“You did, Aiden Ford. And I shall never forget you. None of us will, for we intend to rebuild that which has been destroyed, and inscribe all of your names as great warriors from a world that is no longer legendary, but real.”

“Cool,” the Lieutenant replied. He then joined Teyla and the Major, waiting near the bar.

The transport doors closed. Teyla glanced at Major Sheppard, who stared longingly at a barrel in the corner. “Just wondering how well one of those barrels of beer would travel, and wondering if we could hide it.” He shot them a grin, but it was empty, and his face was pale and drawn.

Except for the chirping of a few night insects, coming awake now that the sun had fully set, the walk to the puddle jumper was made in silence. Immersed in his anger, Dr McKay apparently failed to notice that the Major’s step was becoming less certain. Teyla exchanged a look with Lieutenant Ford, but there was little more they could do for Major Sheppard until they reached Atlantis.

Once inside the jumper, McKay slouched into his seat and shook his head. “If I wasn’t living it, I wouldn’t believe a single detail of this,” he said as the preflight checks were completed with something less than flawless precision. “Haven’t we demonstrated clearly enough, through our blatant disregard for our personal safety during the attack on their world, that we’re on their side?”

“Do you view the situation so clearly, Doctor?” Teyla replied, feeling an immense weariness. “Without the immediate threat of the Wraith, and without the stability they once had, there will be many ‘sides’ among these people.”

The look McKay gave her in return was unexpected. It was not the haughty expression to which she had become accustomed, but a more subdued one. “You’re assuming that I’m utterly incapable of recognizing my own misjudgments,” he said, his tone cool. “I’m well aware of the role I played in this madness.”

Surprised, she met his gaze and discovered a reflection of her own conflicted thoughts. “Much has happened that we did not foresee,” she said finally. It was an odd sort of truce, but it would suffice for the moment.

“As rough as it’ll be to have to start over, the Dalerans kinda have a second chance to set things up right,” Lieutenant Ford offered from his place beside her. She envied his optimistic outlook. “Don’t you think, Major?”

Sheppard’s response was listless. “Let’s go home.”

The team’s final view of the Citadel was markedly different from its first. Then, there had been unabashed awe at its powerful stature. Now, the ruins of the Enclave, harshly lit by the rising twin planets, were visible from above. So too was all other evidence of the devastation brought by the Wraith and the Dalerans themselves. As the edifice became smaller in the windscreen, however, the areas of damage became less noticeable.

“They’ll rebuild,” Ford asserted, and Teyla wondered if he was trying to convince his teammates or himself.

“You want to know what drives me up the wall?” Dr McKay began, apparently dissatisfied with the silence that had fallen. “None of this had to happen. Granted, the Wraith attack was pretty much inevitable, but so much of the petty infighting was just unbelievably destructive and completely useless to anyone’s cause.”

The scientist’s latest tirade was little more than ambient noise to Teyla. If it helped his peace of mind to be speaking continuously, then so be it. She watched the sky around them darken from blue to black as the jumper climbed through the atmosphere. Before long, the Stargate came into view, and she realized that this strange, difficult journey was at last nearing its end.

“…not the best strategy ever devised. When confronted by the potential salvation of your civilization, try to lock it up in a cell. I recognize that most Earth cultures can’t point any fingers when it comes to acknowledging the greater good, but—”

“Rodney?” The interruption came from the pilot’s seat, cutting through McKay’s diatribe despite its low volume.

“What?”

Sheppard’s voice was strained. “You have the controls.”

McKay blinked in confusion, which turned instantly to shock as the Major slumped over in his seat, all color drained from his features.

“Shit.”

Teyla sprang from her chair, as did Ford. Together they eased their team leader’s motionless form out of the seat and down to the floor of the jumper. McKay’s eyes were wide as he took in the control panel in front of him. “Uh, okay. No sweat. These things read your mind, and my mind’s at least as well structured as his.”

“That’s not a great sign, passing out like that,” Ford said, worriedly checking the Major’s pulse. “Dial the ‘gate!”

“Backseat driving is not appreciated right now.” Nevertheless, McKay tapped out the correct sequence on the DHD, and the Stargate came to life in the windscreen. “Atlantis, this is Jumper One.”

“Good to hear from you, Jumper One. You’re significantly overdue to check in. We were getting ready to send the contingency team after you.”

“Yes, well, we’re on our way home now.” McKay winced.

“And as much as I hate being predictable, we need a medical team standing by.”

Grodin’s voice was quickly replaced by Dr Weir’s. “Rodney, am I talking to you instead of the Major because he’s once again the reason for the medical team?”

“Excellent deduction. It was a slight variation on the irresistible force, immovable object problem. Head injury — or more accurately, two head injuries, about twenty-four hours ago. He was functioning adequately earlier, but he just collapsed.”

“So you’re navigating the jumper?”

“I can’t tell you how much your confidence inspires me, Elizabeth. All the same, I think I’m going to need my undivided attention for this, so how about we chat when we’re both on the same side of the wormhole?”

“Understood. Good luck.”

Lieutenant Ford sat cross-legged on the deck beside his commanding officer. “I think the Major’s okay for now.” He raised his voice. “Hey, McKay — whatever you do, make sure the drive pods are retracted, all right?”

“If I were the superstitious type, I would make you very sorry for that comment, Lieutenant.” Their course was slow, but McKay’s hand betrayed a slight tremor. “You two might want to grab hold of something. Purely as a precaution. I’m not certain that we’re straight and level, given that this is space and all and I have no idea which way is supposed to be ‘up’.”

“You’ll be fine. Just calm down.”

“That’s very easy for you to say. The ‘gate looks a lot bigger when someone else is trying to thread this needle!” The rippling pool grew until it filled the windscreen, and their new pilot’s anxiety level appeared to spike. “Don’t crash, don’t crash, don’t crash,” he repeated in a low voice, his forehead dotted with sweat.

Teyla looked over at Ford, who was attempting and failing to mask a smirk. She opened her mouth to ask him what he found amusing, but the event horizon swallowed them up.

When the jumper was once again intact and hovering in the ‘gateroom, McKay sagged back in his seat. “Oh, thank God.” Within seconds, he had recovered his usual supercilious bearing and even offered an indifferent salute to Dr Weir, standing at the railing, as they rose into the jumper bay. “Make sure to tell Sheppard just how well I did that, for the record. No more of these baby-step lessons.”

“It was the autopilot, Doc.” When the scientist turned to glare at him, Ford grinned. “It takes over at a specified distance in front of the ‘gate, remember?”

It was difficult to tell whether McKay’s expression of disbelief was directed at the Lieutenant or at himself for having forgotten. Ford appeared to be enjoying the other man’s uncharacteristic speechlessness. “Seriously, it’ll park itself and everything.”

“I don’t need it to park itself for me. I think I can find an empty spot in the bay all by myself, thank you.” To prove his point, McKay made a show of locating the manual control and guiding the jumper toward the landing platform.

“Do they test you on parallel parking on Canadian driver’s tests?” Ford prodded.

“I hardly think that Americans can point any fingers regarding driving ability.”

The craft seemed not quite level to Teyla, but the others were too occupied with their discussion to heed her uncertain “Doctor—?”

Then there was a scrape of metal against metal, and she instinctively bent low to shield the Major’s body as they lurched.

“Damn it!” McKay clumsily maneuvered the jumper into place and settled it on the deck. “There’s no conceivable way I’m ever going to hear the end of this, is there?”

Ford rolled his eyes. “Only you could bottom out a jumper.”

“Hey, without me you’d still be on the other side of the ‘gate, so I don’t think a little gratitude is too much to ask.”

Upon lowering the hatch, they were greeted first by Dr Beckett, who bustled in to examine Major Sheppard. Dr Weir followed in his wake. Atlantis’s leader regarded the team: one unconscious, another in foul-smelling peasant’s garb, and the remaining two grimy and battered. “I’m guessing this is going to take a while to explain.”

“That’s a good bet, ma’am,” Ford replied. “Doc, is the Major going to be all right?”

“Aye, but he’ll not be happy for a while.” Beckett motioned to a pair of medics waiting nearby with a gurney. “I’ll want to see the rest of you in the infirmary as well. Shower first if you like, but take longer than half an hour and I’ll send out search parties.”

His mild threat was met by a trio of unenthusiastic nods. Dr Weir studied their faces and frowned slightly. “We’ll debrief later, when Major Sheppard’s able to participate. Just tell me this: did we do what we set out to do?”

Teyla was unsure how to answer. It was Dr McKay who spoke up, already halfway turned toward the door. Though she couldn’t see his face, his voice was tinged with defeat. “That depends on your point of view.”

He was out on one of the more out-of-the-way balconies, looking with unseeing eyes at the tiny whitecaps below, when someone finally took the trouble to track him down. “Hey,” came the simple greeting from behind him.

Rodney turned his head halfway toward the doors, but continued to lean forward on the railing, absorbing the chill of the brisk wind. “How’d you know to look for me here?”

Sheppard held up a life sign detector. “Figured you’d be the little dot that wanted to be as far as possible from the other little dots.”

“Remind me to lock those up when not being used for official purposes.” But he didn’t object when the Major ambled over to stand next to him at the railing. “Carson finally sprang you loose?”

“On the condition that I take a few days off from doing anything, quote, ‘bloody foolish.’ I’m taking that to mean that I get a temporary reprieve from my regular dose of Athosian-style ass-kicking. How is it that you managed to avoid a concussion, anyway?”

“Obviously there’s someone in this galaxy with a harder head than you.”

“Okay,” Sheppard commented slowly. “That’s new. The typical McKay brand of humor isn’t self-deprecating. Usually it’s… well, deprecating everyone else.”

Rodney heard the other man’s puzzlement immediately. “I’m a man of many talents, Major.”

An uncomfortable silence reigned for a few moments as they both stared out into the water. “Lousy mission.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

Sheppard cursed under his breath. “For Christ’s sake, Rodney, if you’re pissed, get pissed. Don’t just keep sulking indefinitely. Yell about it for a while and be glad someone’s actually willing to listen. You weren’t the only one who had the week from hell, all right?”

There was an unfamiliar current in that tone, and Rodney glanced over. A stay in the infirmary had returned the Major’s color and bearing to normal, but something dark still lingered behind his eyes. A fresh wave of self-loathing rolled through Rodney as he realized that Sheppard had been forced to make a number of exceptionally ugly choices during the mission, a burden that until now had gone unnoticed by at least one of his teammates. And once again we see that the world — any world — does not revolve around Rodney McKay.

He decided to offer an olive branch in the form of the confession Sheppard had apparently come here to draw out. What the hell — maybe it would help in some immeasurable way. “Look down there.” Rodney waved a hand at a pier that had taken a pounding in the recently passed storm. “We did everything we could think of, and we just barely made it through. We tried to change things for the better on Dalera, and it all went to hell anyway and will probably revert back to business as usual before long. It’s hard to keep from wondering if there really is any good we can do out here. Maybe the universe is just going to do what it wants to do, no matter how much we run around and wring our hands.”

Fatalism rang loudly in that declaration, but Sheppard seemed unmoved. “I don’t believe that, and neither do you.”

“Oh, I don’t?”

“No. If that were true, you would have wanted to leave the Dalerans to sleep in the bed they made right from the start. You sure wouldn’t have busted your butt to defend the Citadel the way you did. It undeniably sucks that it got so bad, but a lot of people are still alive on that planet because of what we did. A lot. Don’t trivialize that.”

It was a reasonable statement, but for once, Rodney knew he needed more than reason to get past whatever this was. “This from the guy who flipped a coin to decide whether or not to go to another galaxy? The guy who’s proved to be utterly indispensable on this expedition, but who wouldn’t even be here if not for a piece of metal that fell face-up? You’re part of what’s screwing up my outlook, damn it.”

The resulting laugh caught him off-guard. “I’m an accessory to your existential crisis?” Sheppard shook his head, ignoring Rodney’s withering glare. “This I have to clear up, just for the record. Okay, yes, I flipped a coin. But I left out the part where I didn’t like the result and flipped it again.”

There was a pause while Rodney studied his face, gauging his honesty. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. If we were supposed to go hands-off on everything and expect to be led by the nose through life, what good would it be to have a gigantic brain like yours?”

Rodney’s mouth closed with an audible click. “Oh. Well… okay. That’s something.” It wasn’t much, and he was pretty sure they both knew it, but it might keep them going, which was about all he could ask. Any port in a storm, and all that. “I was so sure we could fix things somehow. This is kind of a first, running into something I couldn’t fix. Well, maybe not the very first. There was that time when Major…um, Colonel Carter—”

Abruptly he straightened. “Listen, don’t think I don’t appreciate this. I just…Sometimes I’m not entirely sure what it is we’re doing here.” The only thing Rodney despised more than not knowing something was admitting it in public. He watched Sheppard for his reaction, already primed to revert to full-on sarcasm at the first sign of danger.

The Major’s gaze didn’t change. “The best we can.” After a moment, he tipped his head toward the door. “Come on. Dr Weir wants to do the debriefing, and since I’m temporarily grounded and have nothing better to do…”

Rodney turned to follow him without a second thought, realizing with a considerable degree of surprise that there were those on this expedition who were worthy of being followed. In a way, he’d envied the Dalerans their faith, as faith of any kind had never come easy to him. In this place, though, it often seemed like faith in each other was all they had to sustain them. Maybe that counted for something, too.

A typical post-mission debriefing lasted approximately an hour and a half. A debriefing with Atlantis’s prime team averaged about two hours. This one took nearly four.

Elizabeth listened with amazement to the account of the uprising and the Wraith attack. She noted that the team members traded control of the narrative back and forth, sensing each other’s strengths and viewpoints. If this was how they compiled an after-action report, she had little doubt that their off-world capabilities were becoming similarly integrated. Good for them. To look at them a few months ago, four exceedingly different personalities, she wouldn’t have believed it.

“Well, I’d like to thank Rodney for his commendable performance on your return trip,” she began. “Most people don’t have such stressful first solo spaceflights.”

Lieutenant Ford snorted. “The Major could’ve done better even with the concussion.”

Unexpectedly, Rodney didn’t offer a biting retort, only a bored and vaguely morose look. John, however, stepped in. “Obviously not, since I was too busy taking a header into the controls,” he pointed out wryly. “We got home, so no whining. But McKay, don’t think this’ll get you out of your next lesson. I can put up with a lot, but dinged fenders—”

That got the anticipated reaction. “Spare me,” Rodney shot back. “There’s not a scratch on your beloved ride. I told you they’re practically indestructible.”

“Jumpers aside,” Elizabeth said, redirecting the conversation, “does anybody see a circumstance in which returning to Dalera would be beneficial to us or them?”

Heads shook around the table. “I would’ve liked to have taken a look inside one of the downed Darts. Some weren’t wrecked that badly,” John said.

“More importantly,” Rodney said, “that Wraith-specific beam. I’ve got some ideas about that.”

“But we’d be running a pretty big risk to go back,” John cut him off gently. “If any of the Genes got it in their heads to mess with us, all they’d have to do is park themselves next to the jumper with a Shield, and we’d be grounded. The Ancients put the ‘gate in orbit for a reason. If we leave the Dalerans alone, maybe they’ll manage to get back on track as far as Dalera’s original plan is concerned.”

A derisive chuckle emanated from Rodney’s side of the table. “Who’s laying odds?”

Elizabeth turned toward him. “Not feeling optimistic?”

“Einstein said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

“We don’t know that they’ll revert completely back to their old system,” she pointed out. “From what you’ve said, I think they have a reasonable chance of adapting their mindset. Yann in particular seems to have evolved a fairly balanced attitude about the whole system.”

“He’s only one man.”

“We were only four.” Teyla’s lyrical voice broke into the exchange. “And yet we helped mount the defense that saved Dalera from utter destruction.”

Elizabeth exchanged an approving glance with the Athosian woman. At that moment the similarities between them, as the leaders of their respective peoples, seemed especially apparent. “We didn’t come to Atlantis simply to find a ZPM and a few gadgets,” she stated. “Our mission is much broader than that. We were tasked to learn all we can, from the Ancients and from whomever else we may find along the way. I suspect that this past week has fulfilled our mandate better than you think.”

There was a pause before John offered, “Well, firmly in the category of ‘good to know on one level and really not good on another,’ we’ve got some firsthand evidence of what will and won’t kill a Wraith. We also saw enough of the hive ships’ destructive capabilities to know that we really don’t want to meet one in a dark alley.”

Rodney continued to study the table top until he suddenly jumped in his seat and glared at John. Elizabeth suspected that his shin had come into contact with the Major’s boot. “I suppose there are avenues to be explored on the topic of electromagnetic field theory and that Wraith beam,” mumbled the scientist.

“You mean the Illudium PU-36 Explosive Space Modulator?” Ford put in with a grin.

The expression on Rodney’s face was priceless, caught somewhere between annoyance and utter bewilderment. He turned to John for help, but the military commander was already chuck-ling.

“Marvin the Martian. Ford, I just might reinstate your naming rights for that one.”

Hiding her own smile, Elizabeth asked, “Any mission-related information to add, Lieutenant?”

Ford blinked. “Uh, no, ma’am. Just thinking about how Lisera will do. You know, with her new responsibilities and all.”

“The Aiden Ford Fan Club loses its only member.” Rodney affected a grave mien. “Truly a dark day.”

“At least I came back through the ‘gate wearing my own clothes.”

Elizabeth shook her head and made a shooing motion with her hand. “Get out of here. Take the rest of the day to decompress a little. Rodney, since I know ‘decompress’ means ‘go to the lab’ in your mind, check out what Dr Gaul’s working on. He said earlier that he’d found something on the long-range sensors. A satellite of some kind, at a unique point between a planet and its sun where the gravitational force does something interesting—?”

“A Lagrange Point? Really?” Some of the spark returning to his eyes, Rodney stood up from the table. “If you’ll excuse me.”

The others drifted toward the doors as well, until only John and Elizabeth remained. By unspoken agreement, they moved to stand at the edge of the room, where the ‘gate was just visible behind the partitions. “Your cold must be on the way out,” he observed.

“It seems to be gone. Strange kind of bug, according to Carson. Different from Earth, but in some ways much the same.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against one of the panels. “I think we should talk more seriously about accelerating the gene therapy program on Atlantis. Not only is there the obvious efficiency benefit from having more people who are capable of interacting with the city, but…”She didn’t want to compare their expedition to the class struggle on Dalera, but it lurked in the back of her mind.

“Yeah. Anything that might remove an artificial barrier between people sounds like a good idea to me.”

Grateful that he seemed to understand, she smiled. “So, for future reference, do you see a circumstance where offering the gene therapy to a culture might be beneficial?”

“Theoretically, sure. The Athosians could certainly have handled it, if it had offered them a viable defense against the Wraith. And it would have worked for the Dalerans if we’d had a little more intel on what was really going on.”

“Fair enough. Rodney will be all right, don’t you think?”

“I do,” John replied gamely. “He got his world pretty well rocked, but he’s nothing if not resilient.” He glanced out at the control room, where two technicians were testing a console damaged in the storm. “We all are.”

“I won’t argue with that.” Elizabeth cocked an eyebrow. “Out of curiosity, do you have any idea what’s interesting about a Lagrange Point?”

“Not really, but I have a feeling it won’t be long before I’m forced to find out.”