"How would you estimate our chances of getting this Cestan guy to let us take another look around the ruins?" McKay wanted to know, his strides lengthening to keep up with his teammates.
"Once again, Rodney: I'm not your bookie. But we're sure as hell going to do our best to sell him on the idea." The Colonel scanned the trees around them, a subtle visual sweep that likely went unnoticed by everyone except Ronon.
"It is possible that the Falnori have set the transporter to respond only to them," said Teyla.
McKay shook his head. "Not likely, even assuming that some of them do have the gene. If their level of technological sophistication was that high, wouldn't they have devised something with a little more kick than those whips?"
Watching the Falnori ahead of him, moving with assurance and vigilance, Ronon said, "Maybe they have, and we just haven't seen it yet."
The idea seemed to set McKay back a step. "I'm honestly not sure whether I should be fascinated or frightened by that concept."
"There's got to be something worth a second look around here. Otherwise there'd be no reason for anyone to stage raids." Abruptly, a faint smile passed across Sheppard's face.
McKay frowned, suspicious. "What was that about?"
Sheppard's eyes glinted with amusement. "I was just thinking… So far on this mission, we've got raiders and we've got whips. All I need now is a fedora."
"Oh, good God." After giving the Colonel his most long-suffering look, McKay walked ahead. "The fact that I'm expected to obey the leadership of an overgrown teenager with a rank is perpetually mind-boggling to me.
"It's a rough life, isn't it, Rodney?" Sheppard turned in the scientist's direction as he spoke, but Ronon could tell he was sweeping the area again. For all his jokes and casual demeanor, the man's tactical instincts were wellhoned. Ronon's military service on his home world had been cut short, but he'd been a soldier long enough to recognize both good commanders and bad ones. He appreciated following someone whose abilities in the field he'd never had cause to doubt.
So far everyone seemed to be relatively calm and con tent on this walk, but he was fully aware of how quickly that could change. They knew very little about these Falnori yet, and often the unknown turned out to be the most formidable enemy of all.
Chapter four
As it turned out, they didn't have to walk the whole way. Good thing, because the capital wasn't exactly right around the corner. Once they'd hiked for the better part of an hour, the forest thinned out, giving way to gently rolling hills covered in some kind of grain. There was no city yet in sight, even after John fished out his binoculars again.
When Rodney emerged from the trees and arrived at the same conclusion, he visibly deflated. "We really need to come to a consensus on what does and does not constitute a `long journey,"' he grumbled.
Before John could think of a polite way to ask Kellec how they expected to reach this supposed capital by midday, they came upon a well-built wooden carriage, easily big enough for the entire group. Like an old Conestoga wagon, but without a canvas top, it was harnessed to an animal that resembled an oversized Clydesdale horse-if horses ever sat upright on their haunches. John was pretty sure they didn't.
"They are swift and obedient, but many of them do not like the woods," Kellec explained, running his fingers down the animal's flank. "This one is quick to startle, so it was easier to complete the forest trail on foot."
Quieter, too, John thought, which had probably factored into the decision.
Upon seeing the wagon, Rodney's displeasure grew, at least in volume. "Oh, this'll be comfortable."
"You want to keep walking, Rodney, be my guest." John grasped the side rail and swung himself up into the wagon. Taking a seat on one of the long benches that lined the interior, he twisted around to offer Teyla a hand, only to find that she'd already climbed aboard, with far more grace than he'd shown.
Ronon boosted Rodney up and then hauled himself over the side. The warriors seemed awfully agile, clambering into the wagon like circus gymnasts and taking positions along the benches. One went to the front and gathered up the reins, giving them a decisive tug.
The animal promptly plopped its forelegs down on the ground and took off at a rapid pace. Immediately John abandoned any effort to compare the beast to a horse. Its gait was more like that of a rabbit, bounding forward on both forelegs at once and then moving both its massive hind legs to catchup. It was fast, but a little on the bouncy side.
"Just for the record, my spine is being traumatized," Rodney informed his teammates in a low but distinctly unhappy voice.
Sympathizing with his scientist was even lower on John's to-do list than usual. "Try serving as the crash mat for one of your teammates and see how your spine likes that."
"I said I was sorry, didn't I?"
The scenery flew past, the fields of wild grain soon replaced by rows of green plants that might have been vegetables. It was clear that these areas had been deliberately planted. Civilization couldn't be too far away.
John grimaced when the wagon hit a particularly unforgiving bump and looked over at Merise, sitting across from him. "Your people do a lot of farming?"
"Crops fare well here," she replied, pushing windblown strands of coffee-colored hair back from her face. "We grow what we need for ourselves and for trade."
"Do you trade with neighboring peoples," Teyla inquired, "or with other worlds?"
"We have a long-standing trade agreement with the Nistra."
Huh. Something about that didn't add up.
The skepticism in Ronon's voice was obvious. "The people who raid your place of honor? You trade with them?"
The Falnori woman's expression was hard to decipher. John spotted frustration, for a start, but also resignation. "Our history is complex. Governor Cestan will be able to explain."
Before long, a cluster of structures rose out of the fields on the horizon. As the wagon drew closer, John tried to gauge the city's size. It wasn't a New York or Los Angeles, but it wasn't a one-stoplight town, either. More like a decent-sized suburb, maybe. Most of the buildings looked to be only one or two stories high, though one dominated the settlement, covering an area the size of an Earth city block and looming three or four stories above the others. The capital, he guessed.
Everything appeared to be built out of wood with the occasional piece of stone. Probably not all that recently, either. The construction was antiquated by Earth standards; most likely there weren't any power tools stashed away in anyone's sheds around here. Still, it all looked sturdy, and almost graceful. When they neared one of the perimeter buildings, John could see a fairly elaborate design carved into the slats that formed its roof He'd never been much of a student of architecture, but the amount of time such a purely aesthetic detail must have taken to complete suggested that these people took their craftsmanship seriously.
The wagon slowed as it entered the city, and the packed dirt of the main street instantly felt more forgiving under the wheels than the rougher rural path had. A few other, smaller wagons traveled the street, and people milled around, going about their business with hardly a glance toward the group of warriors and visitors. Most of the foot traffic came and went from a series of small, connected buildings that might have been a marketplace. A little girl skipped happily along a stone sidewalk and was helped up by a tolerant adult when she stumbled.
Wardrobes were mostly simple, tunics and robes and the like. Some townspeople were livelier than others, but no one seemed too poor or undernourished. If the ATA gene was present and recognized here, were these the `haves' or the `have-nots'? Or did they draw no distinction between the two?