The Chosen

Chapter Eight

“Lisera thinks of herself and her entire family, as barbarians,” explained Carson Beckett. His voice held a mixture of sadness and anger. “She’s utterly convinced that she’s somehow responsible for the Wraith attacks.”

Aiden stared at him. “How?” He didn’t have lot of faith in Beckett’s analysis of the situation. The doctor might be some sort of super-smart biologist, but he was generally too busy blabbing about what he didn’t know or why something wasn’t his fault to pay a lot of attention to what was going on around him. “We’re the ones who woke the Wraith.”

Together with the Major, Teyla and McKay, Aiden was standing with Beckett in the room next to where Lisera was resting. Through the glass door, he could see Dr Weir sitting on the bed, holding her hand. Aiden had planned on visiting Lisera earlier in the evening, but by the time they’d finished debriefing and getting something to eat, he’d been due for his scheduled workout with Teyla.

Leaning toward the Major, McKay wrinkled his nose theatrically. Sheppard shot him an odd look. “What?”

“Nothing.” McKay’s expression said otherwise.

“Many of those boats you saw were not used for fishing,” Beckett continued, “but to explore distant towns that, while now deserted, were once inhabited by people that the Chosen also viewed as barbarians. The crews would scavenge items they could sell in the markets. Things more advanced than they themselves could create.”

“How could this be possible?” Teyla frowned. “What they call Wraithcraft causes the Shields to glow, alerting the Chosen.”

“Yes, but the products of technology wouldn’t necessarily do so,” McKay said. “It would account for those quality steel axes everyone was carrying around. Most of that stuff was cast, not wrought, and you can’t get that kind of temperature in a blacksmith’s wood-burning forge.” He inched toward Aiden and sniffed experimentally.

Teyla sucked in a deep breath. “It would also explain the many fine goods in the markets.”

“Without warriors patrolling outside the Citadel, no one’s policing their laws.” The Major looked thoughtful.

“The apothecary told us that with the Chosen no longer operating the transports as they once did, many now cart goods into the city across the bridges.” Teyla’s frown deepened.

Nodding in understanding, the Major added, “Contraband has probably been finding its way into the markets for decades.”

“And Lisera’s family,” said Carson, “was involved in the transport of such goods. When the Wraith first put in an appearance, those dealing in Wraithcraft were blamed for having attracted their attentions.”

McKay’s face screwed up. “What is that smell?”

Slowly turning to face him, Sheppard replied, “The result of working out, Rodney, something apparently unfamiliar to you.”

“I would be most pleased if you would care to join us next time.” Teyla’s smile was more predatory than anticipatory. Aiden winced. If McKay ever took her up on the offer, the only thing that would be getting a workout was his backside — as it hit the floor.

Glancing at her sharply, McKay remarked, “What a shock. My assessment was, oh, let’s see, completely accurate. Their idealistic aboriginal culture is—”

“Rodney,” interrupted the Major. “Let’s hear what Lisera has to say before jumping to any conclusions.”

Beckett shook his head. “She became quite distraught, so I gave her a sedative. I have no doubt she’s told Elizabeth the rest of it.” His eyebrows lowered into a deep frown. “Things a girl wouldn’t want to share with a man, if you get my drift. Bloody monarchists by the sounds of it. Sitting in their high and mighty palace, extorting payment for protecting people from the Wraith, but doing naught else while the city turns into a squalid den of murderers and thieves.”

Aiden followed Beckett into the room. On the bed, Lisera was curled up as much as the plaster cast would allow, arms wrapped around herself. When he saw the tear stains on her cheeks, he smiled reassuringly. Despite the sedative, she glanced fearfully at the others. McKay’s lips did that thing that Aiden supposed was meant to be a smile but came off like a bad case of indigestion.

Dr Weir stood from the bed. “Get some rest now, Lisera. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

“As I said,” McKay continued. There was no mistaking the satisfaction in his smirk this time. “Me. Right. So it was, and so it ever shall be.”

“Let’s take this discussion elsewhere.” Dr Weir’s warning glance was directed at McKay.

“I’ll be along in a few minutes,” Beckett said. “I want to check the results of Lisera’s blood work.”

Lisera’s eyelids began to droop. “Aiden?”

Leaning down, he took her hand. “I’ll bring you some breakfast.”

“Do you promise?”

“Sure. Haven’t broken my word yet, have I?”

Aiden didn’t fail to notice Dr Weir’s concerned look as the five of them went to the briefing room. Neither did he fail to notice McKay’s smugness, and Teyla’s troubled expression.

When the ornate doors closed behind them, Dr Weir took a seat, rested her elbows on the table and briefly ran her hands across her face. Her eyes were red and puffy and her voice sounded thick with a cold. “What did you say was the name of the chief?”

“Balzar.” Sheppard pulled a chair out and sat down. “Why?”

“He threatened to tell the Chosen that Lisera’s family brought the Wraith upon them by trading in Wraithcraft.”

“Yes, we got that,” McKay said impatiently.

Taking a deep breath, Dr Weir added, “What you didn’t get was what Balzar demanded of her mother, and then Lisera, in return for saying nothing and allowing them to enter the transport to the Citadel.”

A swift silence fell over the room. No one needed her to explain further.

“What?” McKay was incredulous. Unfolding his arms, he sat forward in indignation and blurted, “She’s just a kid!”

The look in Teyla’s eyes was nothing short of murderous. Not that Aiden was feeling any less inclined to rip Balzar limb from limb, but even he was surprised at her vehemence when she spat, “Such creatures as Balzar are not fit to be called human. They do not feed from hunger, as the Wraith do, but gorge themselves on fear.”

Well, at least McKay and Teyla had found something on which they could agree.

Lips pinched in barely controlled anger, Dr Weir continued, “Lisera ran away from him and tried to take refuge in the city. Faced with starvation, she returned to find her mother had been taken by the Wraith. The Chosen have apparently made it clear that they will protect only those who truly believe in Dalera — which Lisera’s mother had not. Lisera left the Citadel and has been living in the forest near the ocean ever since. So the Chosen’s system isn’t functioning as well as it may have seemed.”

Dr Weir pulled a tissue from a box she’d placed on the table. “Did any of you see anything outside the marketplace?”

“I believe,” McKay said, sitting back with his arms folded, “the term ‘mortal danger’ was bandied about, so no.”

Apologizing, Dr Weir blew her nose. “Still, leaders generally aren’t as important in a society as they’d like to think they are. What about their bureaucracy?”

“We didn’t get much of a feel for their infrastructure,” replied the Major. “We need to take a look around the place.”

McKay was practically preening. If the issue at hand had been any less grim, Aiden suspected that they would have been treated to some kind of victory dance. “If anyone would care to recall my varied and eloquent comments throughout the mission, warning of precisely this circumstance, I’ll be accepting apologies in the form of coffee rations.”

“You’ve made your point,” Sheppard muttered, turning his chair to face Dr Weir. “So what’s the game plan for our next visit? Offering the Dalerans better transportation won’t fix the corruption that’s probably running wild.”

“For right now, caution is the operative word. We don’t fully know what we’re dealing with yet.”

Without forethought, Aiden spoke up. “Ma’am, what about Lisera? We can’t just take her back and leave her there.”

Dr Weir’s expression made him apprehensive even before she answered. “As much as I despise the situation, we can’t afford to take in any more refugees. I’m sure we can work out something so that Lisera won’t be left to fend for herself. Perhaps Kesun would accept payment of some sort to make sure she’s taken care of until she can walk again.”

His protest would have been impassioned, but McKay’s was faster and, for better or worse, sharper. “That strategy could be compared to upgrading her steerage ticket on the Titanic.”

Before McKay could add anything, the leader of the Atlantis expedition captured them all with an iron-willed gaze that was undiminished by her cold. Aiden hadn’t known what to make of Dr Elizabeth Weir at first. But back when she’d led Stargate Command he’d learned that, while her standard demeanor was gracious, she had the capacity for nearly limitless resolve. “Understand me,” she said, her words deliberate. “I have been in more refugee camps than I can count, and each time I’ve wished that I could save every person there. Major, Lieutenant, I know you’ve had similar experiences. There’s always an exception, one child that you become personally involved with on some level, one you feel you have to find a way to save. But you’ve been trained to recognize that choices have to be made.”

Aiden glanced across the table at the Major and saw that his assessment reluctantly matched Dr Weir’s. That, and his own admittedly limited experience in such situations, didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

“Right now,” she continued, “the best thing that we can do to help these people, and all of the people in this galaxy, is to find a way to defeat the Wraith. As much as it tears us up, we have to accept our limitations and do the best we can within them. We’re hard pressed just keeping ourselves alive here, and if the Wraith are coming, Lisera will be in as much danger on Atlantis as on her home world.”

It was a painfully rational standpoint. McKay breezed past it without missing a beat. “Which brings us back around to the original argument, because the only thing that has any chance of protecting the Dalerans from the Wraith in the short term is the gene therapy.”

“And how will that help restore their society?” Teyla asked pointedly.

The scientist swiveled his seat toward her. “Now I’m getting whiplash. Are we in favor of the laissez faire approach, or aren’t we?”

“We’re still weighing options, Rodney, so have some patience.” Dr Weir brushed her hair back with a weary hand. “The social implications are not the only potential consequences here.”

The doors slid open to admit Dr Beckett, who hovered in the back rather than take a seat at the table. “Carson, your timing’s impeccable,” McKay greeted him brusquely. “Elizabeth was just about to raise a concern that the gene therapy might pose some kind of health hazard to the Dalerans.”

That seemed like a big leap to Aiden, but Dr Weir gave a slight nod of admission. “Isn’t it possible that their biology might differ from ours in some minor respect?”

“Aye, but right now it’s not the differences that trouble me so much as the similarities.” Beckett twisted a pen in his hands, looking uncertain. “I’ve run a number of tests on Lisera, both for the purposes of treating her and of learning whatever we can about the other inhabitants of this galaxy. The results were a bit of shock, to say the least, but it’s been confirmed. Lisera has the ATA gene.”

The energy in the room abruptly changed, as five heads swung toward the doctor. Their collective shock reigned in silence until Sheppard leaned forward. “Okay, I’ll be the one to say it. What the—?”

“How is that possible?” Dr Weir demanded.

“The ATA gene, although rare, exists in the human population on Earth, doubtless for the same reasons.” Beckett pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “As I understand it, there were times throughout Daleran history when children born with the gene were put to death, along with their mothers.”

Nodding in comprehension, Dr Weir said, “Parents would then have gone to great lengths to avoid having their children tested, until a culture of fear became ingrained in the entire population.”

Sheppard shook his head. “If there are enough others out there with the gene, they’ve got a perfectly capable defense against the Wraith hiding in plain sight. Unbelievable.”

“What do we do now?” Aiden had to ask.

“We test them. As many as possible.” McKay cut off Teyla’s objection before she could respond to Dr Weir’s immediate look of doubt. “Their society is unsustainable without ATA-capable people, and the only way to bring those with the gene to light is to test them. You can continue to shake your head at me, but only if futility is your thing, because I can assure you that I’m very practiced at tuning out misguided opposition.”

“And if there are only a handful of others besides Lisera?” Dr Weir asked.

“Then gene therapy is still an option.” That statement came from Beckett, not McKay, and caught the rest of the group off-guard. “I realize that we’re not comfortable with the idea of forcing change on these people,” he added, pouring himself a glass of water. “But if it comes down to a choice between defying their beliefs and leaving them as victims of a corrupted oligarchy and eventual prey for the Wraith, I’m afraid I have to agree with Rodney.”

“Try not to sound so enthusiastic about that,” McKay muttered.

“You know, this could work for us,” the Major commented thoughtfully. When both women pinioned him with stares, he raised his hands in surrender. “Hey, none of this was my brilliant idea. And I’m not suggesting we dive right into the gene therapy. All I’m saying is that Lisera being a Chosen might be useful in changing some attitudes. She’s been brainwashed into thinking she’s responsible for the Wraith. The simple fact that she’s been to Atlantis should undermine that and simultaneously elevate her position. It might give Kesun an edge to convince everyone to convert.”

McKay’s eyes grew huge. “So you’d just use her to continue propagating this insanity?”

“Tone down the indignation, would you?” Sheppard glared at him. “I’m trying to back you up, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“And thanks ever so much for that, but it’s a near-certainty that I’ve thought this through farther than you have, so kindly stop helping.” Still facing a less than receptive audience, McKay continued. “We can tell Kesun the truth. Since we don’t have taboos on touching Ancient objects, we discovered Lisera’s gene when she came to Atlantis. In Kesun’s mind, this will just confirm what he already believes, that there may be others who have the gene naturally. He’d have a good reason to test a lot more people.”

McKay hadn’t been kidding about thinking this through, but Dr Weir didn’t look convinced. “Touching the Shields would require them to overcome a deeply entrenched cultural taboo.”

“Which Kesun is already in favor of rescinding.” Sheppard drummed long fingers against the table top, considering. “He was also happy for Lisera to come here, citing the fact that Atlantis is a place where healers come from.”

“All of which fits in with our vaunted goal of not disturbing their delicate belief structure.” McKay looked at Teyla as if challenging her to disagree. “And if the Chosen do object, we’ll know for certain that they’re not the idealists they claim to be.”

The team members traded glances, weighing each other’s reactions. At last, Aiden spoke up. “I gotta say, Doc, you’re sneakier than you look.”

“No argument on that,” the Major agreed.

“Thank you. I try.”

Teyla still seemed uneasy, possibly more so than before. Dr Weir picked up on her discomfort immediately. “Teyla, don’t be afraid to say what you’re thinking. This may not have started out as the most democratic effort—” She leveled a stern look at McKay. “—but I want us all on the same chapter at least before we proceed.”

McKay spread his hands wide. “Yes, if you have a more palatable method of protecting these people from the Wraith, by all means.”

The Athosian continued to hesitate, her features set, but her eyes were turbulent. “I do not feel confident in this,” she said at last. “It is difficult for me to see the point at which an act of this kind ceases to be mere assistance and becomes interference. But I cannot disagree with the goal — to protect them from the Wraith.” She directed a pointed gaze at Rodney. “And while I do not agree with the manner in which the Chosen offer or deny protection from the Wraith, I do not believe we should blindly attempt to change these people’s way of life.”

“Then we proceed with caution. Let’s see how many undiscovered Chosen are out there before we make any bolder plans.” Dr Weir pulled another tissue from the box. “When you return to Dalera, demonstrate Lisera’s ability and approach Kesun with the offer to help test the populace. But that’s as far as we go for now.”

From his vantage point in the doorway, Carson Beckett watched his young patient devour her breakfast. Lieutenant Ford sat nearby, munching on an energy bar.

“Do you think there is food of this kind in the Enclave?” Lisera asked between bites. “Or such fine clothing?”

Ford offered a shrug, and Carson could tell he was marveling at the notion of infirmary scrubs being thought of as ‘fine.’ “I don’t know. I guess it’s probably pretty nice in there.”

“And I will see it with my own eyes.” The girl’s face glowed. “To think that I have lived eight seasons and never knew until now that I was of the Chosen! I know not how I have found favor with Dalera, but I give thanks for it.”

“Yeah, it’s a miracle.” Ford forced a smile. Lisera appeared too excited to notice his hesitation.

“You will visit me, won’t you, Aiden? I must find a way to show you the Enclave. Surely Dalera would not turn away a warrior of Atlantis.”

Carson decided to step in and rescue the Marine. “Looks as though you’re ready to go home, lass,” he said, moving into the room. “I’ve got you a pair of crutches — sticks to use if you have to walk. In fifty days that cast can come off, and you’ll soon be ready for dancing.”

Lisera bowed her head toward him. “I thank you, Doctor. All of you have given me so much.”

Perhaps he was imagining it, but her bearing seemed to have changed somewhat. Armed with the knowledge of her supposed birthright, Lisera drew herself taller in the bed. There was a spark of pride in the lass for the first time since she’d arrived.

Ford took the chance to stand up. “Lisera, I have to talk to Dr Beckett for a minute. We’ll be just over there, all right?”

When she nodded, he ushered Carson to an empty corner of the infirmary.

“What’s bothering you, Lieutenant?”

“It’s like she’s forgotten about how bad things were for her up until a couple of days ago.” Ford gestured uncertainly. “How can she really want to go back?”

“Lisera’s got reason to think things will be different now, at least for her.” Carson gave a wistful smile. “And no matter how extraordinary a place this is, there’s no substitute for home.”

The Lieutenant conceded that point, and the two men stood in uneasy silence for a moment. They hadn’t worked all that well together during the storm; both would confess to that, the doctor was sure. Somehow, though, they’d hammered out a truce even before the sun had broken through the clouds.

“You get homesick, Doc?” Ford asked.

“Aye, that I do,” Carson answered readily. “Terribly so, sometimes. Don’t you?”

“Sure. It’s just that you’re the only senior member I’ve ever heard admit to it.”

“They’ve all got their reasons, I suspect. Dr Weir won’t show it because of her position. Rodney won’t show it because of his personality.”

“What about the Major?”

“Most likely a bit of both.” As head physician, Carson had seen Sheppard’s personnel file, but it wasn’t his place to explain that the man hardly had a home to miss.

Ford nodded, glancing back at Lisera. “We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we?”

Carson sighed. “I hope so. I don’t much like the idea of allowing any kind of divine-right imperialistic nonsense to continue, I’ll admit. Part of my heritage. But they don’t pay me to make those kinds of decisions.”

“That would be the difference between you and me, Carson,” said Rodney, entering the infirmary with his mission gear. “I see no reason to let my job description dictate when I can and can’t point out the error of someone’s ways.”

“Packing lighter this time?” Ford asked him with a vague smirk.

“Is my hearing impaired, or am I getting a lecture on adaptability from a Marine?”

“Marines are the most adaptable people you’ll ever meet.”

“Ah, yes, of course. You’re equally capable of using either the big gun or the small gun.” Rodney cemented his last-word status by turning to Carson. “Is Lisera ready?”

“She is. Have a good trip.”

Carson gave Lisera a winning smile as the Lieutenant and Rodney wheeled her out of the room and toward the jumper bay. He didn’t feel he knew enough about the planet to hope for a specific outcome, so as usual, he’d settle for his comrades coming home without need of his attention. In the meantime, he had some genes to replicate.