“This looks familiar,” said McKay from behind him.
Sheppard stopped, following Rodney’s pointing finger. The problem with the Forgotten dwelling chambers is that they all looked the same.
“You may enter, Colonel Sheppard,” came a familiar voice from inside.
He ducked under the low doorway, followed by McKay.
Aralen sat in the center of his modest quarters, clearly distraught. A few of his advisors clustered around him, also seated. None of them looked in great shape.
When he saw them enter, a cold smile crossed the old man’s features. “So you are safe,” he said. “You may sit.”
Sheppard didn’t feel like sitting. He found himself bursting with questions. While all hell was breaking out across the settlement, he couldn’t believe the Foremost was sitting quietly on his own with his council. This thing needed leadership, direction.
“We’re fine,” he said, staying on his feet. “But what the hell’s been going on here? And where’s Teyla?”
Aralen looked down at his feet. “I am sorry. Your friend Teyla has been taken. There was nothing we could do.”
John felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. For a moment, he struggled to find the words to respond.
“Taken? What do you mean, taken?”
“She is not the first. There are many…”
Sheppard held his hand up. “I don’t care about that!” he snapped. “Where’s she gone?”
Aralen’s face was hollow and Sheppard suddenly realized that all of the Forgotten seemed stricken with loss.
“My daughter was one of those taken,” Aralen said. “Just as her mother was before her. So you see, I have as much cause for grief as you. And others of my people have gone. We will never see them again.”
“The Wraith,” Sheppard breathed.
Aralen looked uncertain. “When you first arrived, you spoke of these Wraith. This term was unfamiliar to our people, but perhaps it signifies the same thing. Perhaps I should have told you of this earlier…”
“Damn straight,” Sheppard scowled. “Perhaps you should.”
“But we have no means of knowing when they will strike! We always hope they will leave us alone. When you arrived, I thought that perhaps they would no longer dare to come.” Aralen shook his head bitterly. “While you were away they swept through the whole place. I have never seen so many of them.”
Sheppard clutched the sides of his chair. If there were Wraith here, then things just got a whole lot worse…
“You’d better tell me everything,” he said, with a touch of steel in his voice. He didn’t like things being concealed from him, and now his team were suffering.
“We call them ‘Banshees’,” said Aralen. “They have been coming for us more and more. Even as the storms grow worse, so they plague us in greater numbers. At first, the few reports of them sounded like ghost stories. I myself was slow to believe the tales. Perhaps my faith in the Ancestors blinded me. It matters not. None of us question their existence now.” He looked up at Sheppard, his eyes imploring. “Truly, has any people had to endure as we have endured?”
Sheppard worked to curb his impatience. He needed to know about Teyla, but Aralen seemed crushed by Miruva’s loss. He had to tread carefully. “I’ve been on a few planets in my time,” he said. “You’ve got some problems, sure. But I’ve seen worse.”
“What were these… Banshees like?” asked McKay. “Did they come in ships? Wear armor? Did you get a look at their weapons?”
“Ships? No, they are ghosts, flitting between the rocks like a gust of wind. Every attempt to engage with them fails. We never know when they’ll come. Sometimes weeks pass with no visitation. Other times they are here for days on end. All we know is that they steal our loved ones away.”
McKay looked at Sheppard. “That doesn’t sound much like the Wraith to me.”
“Except the part about people going missing,” John agreed. He turned back to Aralen. “Look, if we’re gonna help you, you’re gonna have to help us. Can’t you fight back?”
“When the Banshees come into the caves, there’s panic. It’s only once we’ve recovered ourselves that we’re able to take stock. Then we notice the missing ones. They never come back.”
“You must see something,” McKay objected. “I can’t believe that in a place like this no one even catches a glimpse of what these things are doing.”
“You’ve never been present during a raid by the Banshees,” Aralen said tolerantly, “so your ignorance is forgivable. But, believe me, there is no time to watch. When they come, we all run for our lives. All of us.”
Sheppard saw McKay’s face redden at the word ‘ignorance’, and moved quickly to prevent him replying. “Do you have any idea what these things want?”
Aralen shook his head.
“No,” he said. “If I did, believe me I would tell you. Perhaps there is a link between them and the storms, perhaps not. Whatever the truth, it underlines how much we need the Ancestors. They will listen to our prayers. Whatever you say, Colonel Sheppard, I still believe your coming has something to do with our faith in them.”
Sheppard shifted uneasily in his seat. It was never fun being mistaken for emissaries from the gods. You were always liable to disappoint.
“Yeah, well maybe we’ll see about that,” he said. “Right now we need to figure out a way to do something about these Banshees.”
He hefted his P90 and gave Aralen a hard look that said, ‘Sitting around on your behind ain’t gonna get this sorted’. “Where I come from, we leave no one behind,” he said, his voice bleak. “I promise you this, Aralen. We’re getting Teyla back, and the rest of your people. I don’t care how big and scary these monsters are. We’re going after them.”
Teyla and Miruva crept forward. The light was so low that it was hard to see where they were putting their feet, and the ambient glow seemed to be unevenly distributed. It was relatively strong in the area where they had awoken, but the further they went, the dimmer it got. After some distance, the level surface beneath their feet began to slope downwards. It remained smooth and unblemished, and several times they nearly slipped on its flawless surface. The walls and ceiling were the same. It felt as if they had ended up in a beautifully carved black marble tomb. That wasn’t an image that Teyla enjoyed, and she worked to put it out of her mind.
After a while, the faint hum that had been audible in the chamber became more pronounced. The light increased, the size of the corridor grew and openings gaped on either side of them. Just as in the settlement, it was clear that they were in a substantial underground complex.
“Whoever made this must have been highly advanced,” whispered Teyla. “To carve the rock in this way requires extensive technology.”
“The Ancestors?” Miruva’s hope echoed in the corridor, the light gleaming in her eyes.
Teyla dared not answer and they kept walking in silence. Keeping to the central corridor, they continued to descend. After a while, the light grew bright enough that they were easily able to see each other’s faces again; it seemed to emanate from the smooth black walls, but it was impossible to see exactly how it was made.
From somewhere ahead there came a low noise, the ceiling rising with each step. Teyla reached out a hand to slow Miruva. “We must approach with caution.”
Miruva took a deep breath. “I agree.”
They carried on until the corridor turned to the right. Keeping Miruva behind her, Teyla peered around the corner and gasped at the sight before her.
The corridor opened onto a vast hall. The light was much greater and filled the entire space with a dull red glow. Mighty pillars, each three times the width of a person, soared upwards towards the distant rock ceiling. Every surface was the same as before: smooth, dark, and flawless. There was no decoration, no softening of the harshness, just endless, perfect stone. The tiniest noise — their footfalls, their whispered conversation — echoed around the huge emptiness.