The Chosen

Chapter Six

Not being an idiot, Rodney knew that Sheppard was right about making nice with these people. Their brief experience in the marketplace had demonstrated that becoming the subject of a witch-hunt would be ridiculously easy, and no one had ever accused him of being careless with his own welfare.

Kesun’s expression was carefully neutral as they approached, but he kept his gaze trained on Sheppard, politely ignoring Rodney. Yep, he’d landed himself on probation already.

“Are you agreed?” Kesun asked without preamble. “You will aid us?”

Sheppard’s eyes flicked toward Rodney for a second before he answered. “I’m not entirely sure that we can.”

“It is a simple truth,” Kesun persisted. “One that has been proven time and again for all to see. The blasphemous ways of the barbarians bring the Wraith upon us.”

His resigned tone was one that Rodney knew well. It had been heard from any number of Atlantis’s scientists when they were unable to make everyone around them see the brilliance of their ideas. Problem was, their ideas were only occasionally brilliant, yet the tone was chronically present.

With the sort of revelation that seemed reserved only for zealots, Kesun added, “Your arrival from Atlantis is undisputable proof of Dalera’s existence. I believe it is a sign that only when every barbarian acknowledges Dalera, and abandons their sinful ways for all time can we be saved. A demonstration of your power may encourage this.” He glanced at Sheppard. “Perhaps your weapons—?”

You’re joking, right?

Before Rodney could decide how best to word his emphatic refusal, Sheppard responded, “We didn’t come here either to affirm or question your people’s faith in Dalera. In any case, what you’ve just suggested is not likely to restore your defensive capabilities, especially now that the Wraith have returned.” Quickly and, Rodney had to admit, tactfully avoiding the reason why the Wraith were putting in an appearance ahead of schedule, the Major added, “What happened to reduce the numbers of Chosen so drastically?”

No longer able to contain his disdain, Rodney snapped, “That’s patently obvious.” Creating a genetic hegemony in any society could only lead to one, inevitable outcome, especially when it had been maintained over several thousand years. On that note, senility probably wasn’t the only thing plaguing their mental faculties.

Sheppard looked at him expectantly.

“The Chosen don’t really, ah, get out much, if you catch my drift.” Rodney stashed his notebook in his pack.

Further explanation didn’t appear to be required. The Major’s forehead creased thoughtfully. “Kesun?” he said, offering up a polite smile. “Have any of you taken husbands or wives outside the Chosen?”

Kesun shook his head. “It is forbidden.”

“One of Dalera’s laws?”

“Once, every child born to this world was touched with a Shield. If the Shield’s color came alive, such children were considered Chosen. Alas, during the times of the barbarians, these children were put to death, along with their mothers. When the Chosen emerged to defend against the Wraith, we banned this ritual so that no child should ever again suffer at the hands of the hateful and ignorant.”

The idea that there might have been a legitimate reason for their isolation took Rodney by surprise. He’d expected something more pompous. Unfortunately, the validity of the practice wasn’t the issue.

“When I was a child,” Kesun continued, “the Great Plague befell us. While it killed many, it struck most deeply at the Chosen until only a few remained.”

Nothing like several dozen generations of inbreeding to genetically predispose a population to disease. The only surprise was that the population of self-styled Chosen hadn’t crashed centuries earlier. Realizing that the only way they were going to get out of here in any kind of hurry was by offering up a solution, Rodney said, “If you want to restore your numbers, then you’ll have to rescind this moratorium. On marriage as well as touching the Shields. You need some sort of nationwide testing. And you need it now.” That had come out sounding a lot like an ultimatum, he realized belatedly as the Major shot an exasperated glance in his direction.

Kesun looked at him curiously. “It is different among your people? There are no divisions between Chosen and others?”

Launching into a detailed civil rights lecture wasn’t high on Rodney’s to-do list, and neither was explaining the fact that almost no one on Earth knew or cared about the ATA gene. Therefore, he went for a simple if incomplete answer. “None. And I might add that the Chosen here owe their very existence to the fact that Dalera herself had offspring to someone outside of her kind.” This time, he was rethinking the wisdom of the glib reply almost before it was out.

Beside him, Sheppard coughed. If the Major didn’t read him the riot act on the ride home, Elizabeth certainly would during the debriefing. Tough. They’d wanted help. He’d given them the only viable answer. Besides, Kesun didn’t appear to have taken offense. If anything, his interest seemed tweaked. “As you say,” he replied. “These are things to consider.”

“Fine, fine. Well, now that’s settled,” Rodney muttered, easing toward the transport.

Unfortunately, Sheppard didn’t appear to be in any hurry to leave. “Something I don’t get,” he said. “Since the Chosen are now so few in number, don’t the villagers know that they can’t depend on you showing up in the transports?”

Brows furrowing in alarm, Kesun replied, “Even the most righteous among them blaspheme, which is what brought the Great Plague and the Wraith upon us all. Their faith must be restored before the Chosen can protect them.”

Oh, this was just fantastic. “They don’t know that most of the Chosen are dead, do they?” Rodney snapped.

“It is a question of faith!” Kesun almost hissed between his teeth. Visibly taking control of himself, he lifted his chin haughtily and added, “Your arrival will give them that faith.”

Before Rodney could launch into another tirade, Sheppard stepped in with a healthy dose of reality. “Unfortunately, that won’t resolve the immediate problem.”

True. The old geezers could each grab themselves a dozen wives tomorrow, but even supposing the act alone didn’t give most of them a massive coronary, the Wraith weren’t likely to postpone their culling until the Chosen offspring arrived to save the day. As a scientist, he was trained to investigate all possible avenues. Realistically, that only left one solution. “The gene therapy.”

Sheppard rounded on him, his eyebrows reaching up into his hairline. “You want to run that by me again?”

“It’s an immediate solution.” Rodney didn’t add that it would effectively eliminate this hierarchical mess they’d gotten themselves into. “I don’t see a downside to it.”

“Other than the near-certainty of Dr Weir kicking our asses for offering something like this without consulting her?”

“I’m not offering it to them. I’m simply pointing out the only viable way out of their predicament. And presumably the reason that we’re still standing here having this discussion is that you’d rather not leave them to be Wraith chow.”

“Of what do you speak?” Kesun wanted to know.

Rodney turned toward him, but once again, the Major beat him to the punch, which was becoming more than annoying. “We have a way of giving a person a…medicine,” Sheppard said, caution evident in his tone. “It would allow more people to operate the Shields.”

Since Sheppard had insisted on dragging him into this otherwise futile discussion, he’d be damned if he’d see any proposed solution only shift their grand pecking order somewhat. “Many more,” Rodney added purposefully.

If they’d been looking for a way to finally crack the Chosen’s seemingly infinite patience, this might have been the silver bullet. Kesun’s eyes grew huge, and he opened and closed his mouth several times before finding his voice. “This cannot be,” he sputtered. “The Chosen are granted favor by Dalera herself. We cannot interfere with her will!”

“Genetics don’t depend on anyone’s will,” Rodney argued. “That’s the whole point of the term ‘random selection.’”

Sheppard had been leaning against the wall, but now pushed himself off from it to stand upright. “Listen, Kesun, as Dr McKay said, we’re just pointing out the options. The…medicine doesn’t work on everyone, so maybe Dalera’s still having her say that way.” A glance in Rodney’s direction dared him to protest at his own risk.

Doubt verging on panic was written clearly across Kesun’s features. “Barbarians have no respect for Dalera’s ways. What would become of us if they were made Chosen?”

“You could try working for a living.” And that was a bad idea, too, because the man’s once-pale skin now turned an entertaining shade of reddish-purple.

“Your lack of reverence is greatly disturbing to me, Dr McKay,” he admonished. “I had expected better from the citizens of Atlantis.”

“I apologize,” Sheppard said immediately, adjusting his stance to something approximating attention. “This is my team. I should have better control of it.”

What the hell? Rodney had never seen the Major even attempt to pull rank on him before. What was the point, since he didn’t even have a rank? He turned an indignant gape on Sheppard, only to be met with a coldly imperious stare.

The melodrama had an effect on Kesun, though. He nodded, albeit stiffly. “I must confer with the others.”

“We understand,” Sheppard replied. “Should we wait here?”

“Please.” With a final, scornful look in Rodney’s direction, the Chosen turned on his heel and strode back into the main chamber.

Sheppard crossed his arms and regarded Rodney, the fierce demeanor fading into annoyance. “Rodney,” he said dryly. “I can’t tell you how warm and fuzzy it feels to know how highly you value my opinion.”

Well and truly incensed by the way he’d just been treated, Rodney snapped, “Your opinion?”

“That whole ‘work and play well with others’ pep talk from the balcony? Ring any bells?”

“I appreciate the complexity of the situation, but since you insist on wanting to help out here, there’s a limit to how much of this divine-will crap I can swallow. These people will be sitting ducks for the Wraith if someone in this place doesn’t open up their mind just a fraction.” Rodney could accept a certain amount of that nonsense from the others, but from a trusted colleague? He didn’t see the need to go quietly. “And while we’re on the subject of working and playing well with others, what precisely was that little display about? You should have better control of your team? If your goal was to sound just as superior as they do, fantastic job!”

“Thank you,” Sheppard replied amiably.

Rodney halted, confused. Then he got it. He’d only paid the barest amount of attention in his intro sociology class in college, but the old ‘When in Rome’ axiom seemed to apply here. He blew out a long breath. “You can’t honestly think I’m wrong about this.”

“I didn’t say that.” Sheppard’s gaze was hard to decipher. Not that Rodney had ever been an expert at reading people, but this man seemed to have a singular talent for inscrutability. “We’re already crossing about six different lines that probably shouldn’t be crossed, but we’re here now, so let’s see how they respond.”

A less-than-comfortable silence fell in the corridor as they waited for a signal from inside the main chamber. Sheppard eventually offered up a neutral token of conversation. “So, no ZPM, huh?”

“I doubt it.” Rodney pulled his Shield off the belt clip and examined it. “They appear to be modeled on the personal shields, drawing just enough energy from the bearer to activate the crystal inside, hence the change in color from black to aquamarine. Primary power likely comes from the very EM fields and any incoming energy weapons’ fire that they’re blocking, which in turn causes the crystals to illuminate, thereby serving as a warning to the bearers. Similar to the way I used lightning to power the shield generators on Atlantis. Rather imaginative, really.” Ignoring the Major’s rolled eyes, he examined the casing. Something was buried inside one end of it. “Probably also has some sort of capacitor—”

“The others will speak to you.” Kesun addressed Sheppard. “Come.” With a soft hiss of fur across the polished floor, he led them back into the main chamber.

Rodney hung back a step. If they respected Sheppard more for whatever reason, then let him handle it.

Kesun’s father regarded them coolly. “The scourge of the Wraith has remained constant for thousands of years,” he said. “Barbarians have seen to that. Now that their wickedness has poisoned even the righteous with their Wraithcraft, Dalera has turned her back upon us all.”

Oh, yes, another hugely profound surprise. Divine self-righteousness taken to its ultimate conclusion. The Wraith would get more sustenance from a used toothpick than they would from these Chosen, so let the masses burn — or in this case, have the life sucked from them — as punishment for their evil ways. “Anyone spell Armageddon?” Rodney muttered. He probably could have shouted it because no one except Sheppard seemed to hear.

“The arrival of our guests from Atlantis could also be a sign that Dalera is giving us a final chance, Father,” Kesun suggested.

An emphysemic wheeze erupted from one of the others. “You encourage us to interfere with Dalera’s design for her people?” A second wheeze followed before he added, “How are we to know that this potion you offer is not Wraithcraft by another name?” A crackle of falling logs and a shower of sparks in the fireplace seemed to add weight to his point.

Kesun looked mildly appalled at that. “An offer was made and declined. There is no cause for accusation. I am merely suggesting that if the Chosen were also to return to the old ways, of taking unto them wives from the people, and testing each child at birth—”

“I will hear no more of this!” Kesun’s father decreed with a weak pounding of his fist on the table. The helmet wobbled dangerously close to the edge, and Kesun snatched it up. “Dalera has deemed that the wicked shall be punished.”

The warning look that both Sheppard and Kesun shot Rodney wasn’t necessary. He was so far beyond irate that he could focus only on the thing they’d come for. And since it was obvious that even if there was a ZPM someplace, there was no possible way he could locate it, he clutched firmly onto his Shield. At least they’d gained something from this otherwise utterly wasted excursion.

“I will accompany our visitors back to the Sanctuary Hall,” Kesun said, giving a polite bow in the general direction of the table.

They made an awkward attempt at bidding farewell to the Chosen and left the room, trailing in Kesun’s wake.

The drink that Yann had purchased from a nearby stall was sweet and warm, with a trace of an unfamiliar spice. Teyla smiled her thanks, clasping the mug in both hands.

Lieutenant Ford made a surprised sound. “It’s like hot cider!” he said happily, passing his cup to Lisera.

The girl’s answering smile was genuine, if a bit blank. Seeing the Lieutenant pleased, it seemed, was enough to please her. She took a measured sip of the steaming drink, as if afraid to offend by indulging too much, then shyly handed it back to Ford, and pointed up to the last of the teaching windows. “Entire families of Chosen once lived in the protected villages, along with garrisons of warriors. But then barbarians broke Dalera’s laws, settled in forbidden lands and, having invaded the Citadel, forced the Chosen to live inside their Enclave.” She cast her gaze downward. “The lack of faith by some punishes all.”

Soot and grime smudged the once brightly colored windows. When Teyla pulled her gaze from them, Yann’s hard-faced expression caught her attention. “Is there more to tell?” she asked him.

Yann hesitated, casting a glance at Lisera. “The girl is not wrong,” he allowed. “But she speaks with the voice of a child. Farming lands outside the Chosen’s decree was not done to give insult to Dalera. It was a necessity. The prescribed lands are far from the Citadel and heavily forested. While we have blackpowder that can be used to remove tree stumps from some lands, the problem of distance cannot be remedied, and the Chosen have long neglected the task of transporting the crops to market. We have been forced to use beasts of burden to pull our goods by cart, but the distance is too great. Unless the nearer lands are tilled, the crops spoil before reaching the Citadel.” He stood and shook the stiffness from his legs.

“Perhaps the Chosen would come to the transports more readily if people paid what was asked of them.” Lisera’s reply was given in a timid voice, but its point was blunt.

With a quick glance at the guards, who were out of earshot, Yann retorted, “A full payment for a half-measure of protection?”

A brief light display interrupted his words, and signaled the arrival of a transport. Kesun stepped out, with Major Sheppard and Dr McKay beside him. The scientist looked more irked than usual, while the Major, behind his usual mask of nonchalance, was pensive. “Ford, Teyla,” Sheppard said to them in greeting. “Making friends?”

“We have learned much,” Teyla responded.

“Same here. And now I think it’s time we headed home.” The Major’s hooded expression told Teyla that there was a great deal to discuss.

“Sir,” Ford asked, picking up his pack, “what about Lisera?”

“Her injury is beyond the medical capabilities of this world,” Teyla explained. “If left here, she would not regain the use of her leg.”

The Major glanced at Kesun. “Would it be acceptable for us to take Lisera back to Atlantis? Just for a couple of days.”

A range of expressions that Teyla could not fully interpret crossed the face of the Chosen. “Dalera was the greatest healer our kind has ever known.” With a sly edge to his voice, he added, “If the girl were to return from Atlantis with her leg mended, I believe it would help to convince all of our people of the righteousness of Dalera’s ways — including a return to the traditions of which we spoke. Very well. Take her to Atlantis, so that she may come back to us with knowledge of its wonders.”

The joy that lit Lisera’s delicate features was indescribable. The young woman turned shining eyes to Lieutenant Ford. “You have saved me once more,” she whispered.

Taken aback, the Lieutenant could only offer an embarrassed smile. “I don’t know about that,” he began, but Sheppard and Kesun were already discussing specifics.

“If our doctor — our healer — can treat Lisera easily, we’ll return with her in two days,” the Major explained. “In the event that she requires more time, we’ll report back to you.”

In response, the Chosen gave a small bow. Teyla noted that he faced Major Sheppard directly, not acknowledging McKay.

Having seen the return of the rest of the team, many of the villagers milled about in the vicinity of the transport. “Guess these folks could use a ride home,” Ford said. He went to pick up Lisera, but Yann had already done so.

“Yeah. What’s a few hundred hitchhikers?” The Major opened the doors with a swipe of his hand across the touchpad, and the villagers shuffled into the transport. “Rodney, you want to take this group or the next?”

“What am I, a bus driver now?” Dr McKay muttered, stepping into the transport.

While they waited, Teyla noticed that the villagers Kesun had transported into the Sanctuary Hall were pressing payment into his hand. That left her to wonder about the eventual fate of those, like Lisera, who had nothing to give. Would they be left outside the Citadel when the Wraith sought a full harvest from this world?

Teyla waited for the transport to fill once more before stepping in behind Sheppard. When they emerged into the same inn that they’d left hours earlier, the villagers streamed out of the building with murmured and somewhat begrudging thanks. The Major, however, lingered until everyone had left. With a quick glance around the inn to make certain that no one was observing him, he returned to the transport and bent to examine the panel inside.

“What is it?” she inquired, watching from the door.

“Aha. Found it,” Sheppard replied. “Teyla, would you step back in here a minute?”

When she did so, he touched a second, cunningly concealed panel, and a row of three colored buttons appeared. Pressing the first caused the doors of a larger wall panel within the transport to slide back, revealing the same style of map and grid of lights as seen inside the transports on Atlantis.

“That’s interesting. Unless you’ve suddenly acquired the ATA gene, Kesun wasn’t being entirely honest about who could and who couldn’t access the Enclave. It’s just about knowing where to look. Okay—” Giving her a quick grin, the Major closed the panel again and gestured for her to step outside with him. “Try closing the transport doors.”

She did as he asked, but the exterior panel remained unresponsive to her touch. “It appears that in this, at least, he spoke true. Only a Chosen may operate the transport.”

“There you are,” McKay called impatiently from the entrance of the inn. “Do you think we could leave now?” Teyla watched as McKay followed Sheppard’s gaze in the direction of the bar. The air of tension between the two men was made even more apparent when the scientist grumbled, “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about having one for the road.”

“Nah. This isn’t the time to test any kind of bottle-to-throttle rule.” The Major smiled longingly. “Can’t blame a guy for wishing, though.”

The humor in his voice did little to mollify Dr McKay, who was evidently impatient to return to Atlantis.

Just outside the inn, Yann, with Lieutenant Ford and the innkeeper’s assistance, was fashioning a makeshift stretcher. Once Lisera was on the stretcher, they made their way out into the square and then down the path that led out of town. “So what’s your grand plan?” McKay took rapid steps to keep pace with the Major’s long strides. “Bring the girl back here with a neatly packaged plaster cast, pat everyone on the head and say ‘good luck’?”

“I didn’t think you much cared,” Sheppard replied mildly, glancing down at the Shield that Dr McKay was clutching.

Rolling his eyes in frustration, McKay retorted, “The question of ‘caring’ is superfluous — this is about the principle of the situation. They need the gene therapy, and I’m not going to waste any more time trying to convince you because you already know that I’m right.”

“I also know that they refused the gene therapy, so let’s not treat this like a foregone conclusion, okay?” The Major offered him a tight smile.

“Of course they refused it! They’re the almighty Chosen.” McKay threw a disgruntled hand in the air. “They can’t stand the idea of their happy hierarchy being imploded, when that’s exactly what needs to happen, because it’s disenfranchising the vast majority of the population.”

Dismayed by his attitude, Teyla now understood what had provoked Kesun’s barely civil farewell. In her travels, she’d learned that each society viewed the Wraith through whatever lens their culture provided them. The Dalerans’ belief in a divine influence to protect them from attack was no doubt more comprehensible than Dr McKay’s curt lectures on electromagnetic field theory. “Have you made any attempt to take their view?” she asked, prompting McKay to look back at her. “Kesun is working within his own knowledge and experience, just as you work within yours. You should not fault him because the two are not the same.”

“And he’s a realist,” Sheppard added, not slowing his pace. “I didn’t get the feeling he’d sacrifice his people just to keep a grip on power.”

“Oh, no? It sure felt like that to me.” McKay’s foot caught on on a root and he stumbled. He leveled a muted curse at the offending tree. At that moment Teyla realized that the scientist always seemed at odds with whatever world he inhabited. Every misfortune that he encountered was always due to the shortcomings of others, be they objects or people. “Kesun may be the most visible of the Chosen,” McKay finished, “but what about the rest of those old relics?”

“They have had many centuries to develop their understanding of the Wraith,” Teyla said. “Such things do not immediately change based on the claims of a few strangers.”

“There’s a typically provincial mindset,” McKay muttered. “A little perspective adjustment didn’t hurt the Athosians any, did it?”

A wave of molten anger flowed through her veins. How dare he? She’d known him to condescend before but never like this.

Before she could respond, the Major spun around, halting their motion. “That’s enough,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Nobody’s all-knowing. Least of all us.” That last part was uttered with a hard stare at McKay. “Let’s just get home and work things out there.”

Still simmering with resentment, Teyla held her tongue, even as the scientist blithely continued. “And if you really think the Chosen’s viewpoint is worth saving, you might want to ask them why nothing changed after the plague hit them, and only them, so hard. Do they really expect to be able to maintain their status now that they’re down to about twenty?”

So few? That did come as a surprise to Teyla. Recalling the display in the puddle jumper, she now realized that no more than twenty EM fields had been scattered about the Citadel.

Beside her, Yann fumbled the stretcher and ceased walking. Teyla saw a look of fear cross his eyes and was about to castigate McKay for his unchecked words when the merchant blurted, “Wraithcraft!”

She followed his gaze to where the puddle jumper had suddenly appeared. Remembering her first encounter with the vessel, Teyla smiled in understanding. “Ancient craft,” she corrected, walking down into the shallow gully. “This is how we traveled to Dalera from Atlantis.”

McKay’s reaction was less docile. “Uh oh.” He yanked the glowing Shield from his belt. “These must’ve deactivated the jumper’s cloak.”

Sheppard pulled his own Shield free, and the two men shoved them into Teyla’s hands. The Shields, cool to the touch, went obligingly black, and the jumper vanished from sight again until the Major deactivated the cloaking device.

“Truly wondrous,” Yann murmured, eyes wide with unashamed awe. He and Ford maneuvered Lisera inside and onto a bench, while Sheppard slid into the pilot’s seat and laid a hand on the control panel. The answering hum of power and array of lights to which they’d become accustomed never came.

“Already used up your allotment of brain power for the day?” McKay guessed.

The Major shot him a dirty look. “If yours is so limitless, you try it.”

McKay shrugged and put his hand down on the controls. No response. Lines of concentration appeared on his brow. “If this is what it looks like, I’m about to reach unprecedented levels of frustration,” he commented brusquely. “It’s possible that even though they’re currently unpowered, the capacitors in the Shields are still having some residual effect based on proximity.”

Comprehending, Teyla kept her hold on the Shields and, indicating that Yann should follow, stepped out of the jumper. The craft promptly came to life. Even from outside, she could see McKay’s eyes blaze. “Son of a bitch.”

“Calm down, would you?” Sheppard told him.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather fume for a moment, thanks very much! There were two and only two leads on this backwater planet. One was Dalera’s supposed research on neural interfaces, which I’ll never be able to even locate, let alone study properly, without powered equipment. The other is the Shields, and if we can’t even take one of them back for research, this excursion just went from marginally pointless to completely pointless!” Lips compressed in anger, he stood and stormed out of the jumper.

Some nasty corner of Teyla’s mind was starting to wish that Dr McKay would show up for one of her training sessions in the gym. She would not injure him, but she would make him think twice about dismissing everything that didn’t fit his point of view.

Joining them outside, Sheppard said, “I’m not all that wild about the idea myself, Rodney, but seeing as we don’t have a whole lot of choices, we’re going to have to leave the Shields behind.”

With an exasperated sigh, Rodney thrust his Shield at Yann — who promptly stepped back, a look of shock on his face.

“Is it not forbidden for any but the Chosen to touch the Shields?” Teyla pointed out. Fully aware that she herself was currently holding them, she still felt the need to remind McKay of the culture he seemed to be giving thought to deconstructing.

“It’s not one of Dalera’s laws.” McKay’s fists curled in frustration. “Just another one of those guidelines that’s so helpful in marginalizing commoners.”

Sheppard looked thoughtful. “Well, Kesun did imply that when Lisera returned, he could probably rescind that particular ruling.”

Along with the revelation that the Chosen were few in number, his words left Teyla in no doubt about what discussions must have taken place in the Enclave.

“Perhaps you can hide the Shields.” Yann pointed to the outcrop of rocks on the edge of the gully. “I will tell no one of them.”

Although she sensed no overt deception, she nevertheless felt that something was amiss. Hesitating a moment, Teyla walked to the rocks and found a suitable crevice. She hid the Shields within and carefully covered the opening with a thorn-covered sod.

“In two days’ time, I shall return to this place,” Yann continued.

“We’ll see you then,” Sheppard replied with a smile that failed to mask the uncertainty in his eyes. It was apparent that he, too, was not comfortable with the situation. But to return to Atlantis, it seemed that they must indeed leave the Shields behind, and it would be both foolish and wasteful to simply cast them aside.

Yann moved away from the jumper, while Teyla and the others went back inside and took their seats. The hatch slowly rose and locked into place with a metallic clang. When the jumper ascended, Lisera’s eyes widened and her hand scrabbled for Ford’s sleeve. The Lieutenant looked embarrassed, but gave her a reassuring smile, closing his fingers around the girl’s.

“It is beyond futile to drag me along on these outings to provide solutions to problems, and then refuse to accept the only practical solution because it offends your moral sensibilities.” McKay sullenly stared out at the sky, which quickly darkened to the speckled blackness of space. “I can’t believe you’d be willing to condemn those people to death just to avoid stepping on a few toes.”

Teyla’s anger flared again, but the remark seemed to be directed at the Major, who responded without delay. “And I can’t believe you think that’s all this is. Didn’t we already learn the hard way that, once a society has its mind made up about something, it’s damn near impossible to change anything? Weren’t the Hoffans pretty much a case in point on that subject?”

There was a brief pause, and Teyla recalled the Hoffans’ single-minded willingness to sacrifice half their people in order to protect the remainder against the Wraith. McKay, however, wasn’t dissuaded. “This is not even remotely close to the same thing,” he replied dismissively. “The Hoffans took a vote, for Pete’s sake. If the Dalerans had a fraction of those same democratic rights, this would be different. But it’s not, and you can’t tell me that they’re exercising their own free will to rely on the Chosen when they’ve been fed a bunch of crap about what makes them Chosen in the first place.”

“Quit putting words in my mouth,” Sheppard said tightly. “I’m no more satisfied with this setup than you are. But if you’re going to insist on dismantling their entire religion, could you at least keep your voice down about it?”

“Oh, as if the concept of gene therapy could have made any sense to Yann or anyone else. It’s so far beyond their scientific understanding, assuming there is such a thing as science on their planet—”

Teyla had heard enough. She allowed a short bark of derisive laughter to escape, causing both men to turn in her direction. “There is a word your people use,” she said. “I have forgotten it, but it means a person who criticizes others for the very traits that he or she displays.”

Sheppard’s gaze shifted cautiously toward McKay. “Hypocrite,” he told her.

“Yes.” She faced the scientist with no mask for her contempt. “You, Doctor, are demonstrating yourself to be the worst kind of hypocrite.”

“Me?” McKay’s eyes bulged. “I was perfectly happy to leave these people alone until the Major here decided to play hero. Yet the moment I suggest a way to help, you dismiss it because it undermines their privileged class!”

“Because your ‘help’ is shortsighted and shows no respect for them. You say you want to end the elitism of the Chosen, but you look down on them simply because they do not see their world through the same eyes that you do. How is your elitism any better than theirs?”

“Hey! Excuse me for not displaying the politically correct level of deference to their belief system, but it’s those beliefs that are going to destroy them!”

Teyla heard his indignant tone and understood that she would get no further. His arrogance was well entrenched. She held few remaining illusions about the fallibility of her human companions, but every reminder held a fresh pinprick of sadness. They were not the Ancestors, to be sure. “How fortunate for you,” she replied with icy civility, “that your perspective is the only one required to explain the universe.”

A painful silence fell in the cabin of the jumper. McKay’s eyes narrowed but he turned to face forward without comment, while Sheppard looked surprised by her use of sarcasm. Teyla glanced back at Lisera, but the Lieutenant had been speaking quietly to the girl, and she seemed too enthralled by her surroundings to have noticed the disagreement.

When the Stargate appeared, Sheppard pressed the coordinates on the DHD and the ‘gate obediently activated. “Atlantis, Jumper One reporting in.”

Dr Weir’s voice answered within seconds. “This is Atlantis. How was your trip, Major?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. The drinks were overpriced and the lines were too long for the rides.” A typical response from the Major, but it sounded forced. “We’re coming in with one extra passenger. A local needs a broken leg set. Think Dr Beckett can spare a few minutes?”

“We’ll give him a heads-up. Can I assume from this that you’re planning on returning to the planet?”

Sheppard’s gaze swept over his brooding teammates. “We do intend to go back. What we do once we’re there is still up for debate.”

“All right. Come on home.”