McKay, Sheppard and Aralen walked down the long, snaking corridors. After a few minutes walking in the opposite direction to that taken by the others, the true scale of the settlement began to become apparent. Looking up at the careful engineering of the roofs and doorways, Rodney found himself more and more appreciative of their skills.
“You’ve got quite a place here, Aralen,” he said, and there wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in his voice.
Aralen looked pleased. Despite being told that the team weren’t Ancients, or even their servants, the Foremost seemed keen to impress them. McKay guessed he didn’t get to show visitors around very often.
“You haven’t seen the best of it yet,” Aralen said, gesturing for McKay and Sheppard to walk ahead.
The corridor continued for a few meters, after which it opened up into a vast chamber. They stepped through.
“Whoa!” Sheppard gasped. “Now that’s worth seeing!”
It was as huge as a cathedral, the roof disappearing into darkness despite the many torches set into the stone walls. Mighty pillars of living rock descended from the distant heights. Massive tapestries and decorative banners hung from the walls, each of them showing the ubiquitous hunting scenes, and all around was the sound of murmuring, which rose in volume as the two men walked in.
“My people are eager to greet you,” said Aralen.
The place was packed and when the people caught sight of the newcomers, a spontaneous cheer erupted. McKay shot a concerned glance to Sheppard.
“Did I mention I don’t like crowds?” he whispered. “What is this? Do they still think we’re Ancients or something?”
“Just nod and smile, Rodney,” Sheppard said, through clenched teeth. “When in Rome…”
Rodney rolled his eyes and gave an awkward wave to the masses, who responded with eager applause.
Aralen beamed. “This is our Hall of Meeting,” he said. “The center of our city. It was once a natural cavern, but we have fashioned it into the spiritual home of our people. The finest examples of our skill may be found here.”
Rodney looked up towards the distant ceiling, lost in shadows, noticing the tips of jagged stalactites lancing downwards from the gloom.
“Is it safe?” he asked, only half-meaning to speak aloud.
Aralen laughed. “Perfectly. We have held our gatherings here for a hundred years. This rock is as hard as iron. It is difficult to carve, but never fails us.”
Sheppard looked at the sea of expectant faces. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good thing going here.”
Aralen’s expression faltered. “Do not be deceived, Colonel Sheppard. Life is hard, and getting harder. The White Buffalo provide all we need, but even they struggle to survive in the growing cold. We have to travel further each season to track them. It exhausts the hunters, and the returns dwindle.”
“Forgive me, but why not follow the herds?” asked McKay, remembering his first grade lessons on the plains Indians. “If they head south, you could go after them.”
Aralen shook his head. “We must stay close to the portal. I have always told the people that the Ancestors would return and deliver us from this place. That is our hope, whatever you may say about them. It is our only hope.”
Sheppard sighed. “Look, Aralen,” he said. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea. The Ancestors aren’t gonna come any time soon. They’ve… got a lot on their plate.”
“Your coming gives me confidence, Colonel John Sheppard,” he said. “I know why you tell me these things, but you will not dent my faith. This is the beginning of something new.”
Sheppard and McKay shared an uneasy silence. “Well, that’s nice,” said Rodney at last. “Really, it is. There may be things we can do to help your people. But, as you might have noticed, we’ve got a few problems of our own. The vessel we arrived in has sustained a lot of damage. If we’re going to fix it, we’ll need help. And preferably power.”
Aralen looked concerned for the first time. “I’m not sure what we can offer you. As I told you, everything we have is provided by the cave and by the White Buffalo. I don’t believe much of what we have would be of any use in repairing your vessel.”
“But there must be something else here,” McKay persisted. “Something the Ancestors left behind. A building of some sort, or a special chamber? Or maybe a glass column, that glows in a strange way? Or some kind of crystal polarization centrifuge?”
Sheppard rolled his eyes. Aralen merely frowned. “I’m sorry. We are all that is here.”
“That’s not possible,” McKay retorted, his voice rising. “There has to be something. Little blinky lights? A glowing—”
“I think the answer’s no, Rodney.” Sheppard’s tone was light, but his expression said ‘Shut the hell up’.
Grudgingly, McKay shut the hell up.
“You’ll have to forgive my friend,” said Sheppard. “He gets a little excited. We just need to know when this storm’s gonna blow over.”
“A day or two, I would guess,” said Aralen. “It is rare, even now, for a storm to last more than a week, and this one has been raging for several days already. When the air is clear, we can take you back to your vessel. Perhaps a solution will present itself.”
“Maybe it’ll come gift-wrapped too,” McKay muttered, not quiet enough to avoid a sharp look from Sheppard.
But McKay didn’t care; they were screwed. Totally screwed. If the best this ice-cube of a planet had to offer was cow hide and a T-bone steak, then they might as well give up now. There was no way they were getting home.
Chapter Four
Sheppard awoke abruptly, shaken from dreams of piloting Jumpers down infinitely long tunnels of plasma. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. With relief, he saw that he was still in the caves of the Forgotten. The light was low, drowsy flames flickering in the braziers above him.
John pulled himself upright and rolled his shoulders. The mats were firm, but there wasn’t much of them between him and the rock floor. There was a niggling stiffness in his lower back, but otherwise he felt thoroughly rested. He looked around the small chamber he’d been given to use. There was something different about it. Somehow, his body knew that it was morning, even though he was closeted many feet underground. Then he realized what it was; there was natural light filtering down from the ceiling.
Sunlight-traps were embedded far up into the uneven roof of the rocky chamber. Each of them sparkled with a fresh, pure light. The cold gleam complemented the warm glow of the embers in the torches, lending the room a gentle sheen.
There was a bowl of frigid water and some linen on a low rock shelf nearby. He washed as quickly as possible, and then donned the fur wrappings over his fatigues once more. The hides of the White Buffalo were incredible things; light enough to enable normal movement, but extremely well insulated. Sheppard smiled to himself, thinking how Rodney would spend his time analyzing the properties of the material when they got back to Atlantis. If they got back to Atlantis.
He slipped his pistol into its holster and pulled the hangings over the entrance aside. McKay was waiting for him in the antechamber beyond, his room built into the opposite wall. A third door led to the corridor outside.
“So, how d’you reckon we get hold of food here?” he said, scratching his stubbly chin. “I’d kill for a coffee and a Danish. The nice ones. With pecan on them.”
Sheppard shrugged. “Guess we go and find out,” he said. “Good news is, I reckon we’ll get outside today. There’s sunlight coming down from somewhere — the storm must be over.”
“Yes, ingenious, aren’t they, those sun-traps?” McKay said. “I’m not sure how they do it. There’s so little glass around. They must’ve placed lenses at the top and bottom of shafts in the rock. They’re clever, these Forgotten, I’ll give them that.”