A moment passed before he realized that he wasn't walking on sand but a spongy grass-like surface. The sun on his face felt warm, but not in the parched, stifling way he remembered. The air held some moisture here, and he heard the rustle of leaves and-was that a bird? "This can't possibly still be Polrusso," he stated, almost daring Nabu to claim otherwise.
"Your surprise is understandable." Nabu guided his arm to the side until it bumped against something. "That is the arm of a chair. Please, sit."
Rodney did as suggested, and the odd echo of the children's voices gave him his answer. "We're not outside, are we?"
"No, we are not "
The whisper of Nabu's clothes and the soft creak of a chair announced that the other man presumably had sat down. "This is an enclosed habitat," Nabu continued, "protected from the sand. In this place, samples of plants and animals are stored from a biotic bank which will be used when the terraforming of Polrusso is complete."
"So you know about the Ancients' terraforming plans as well." Rodney had a number of questions on that front, but he found himself fascinated by the very idea of the garden. His hearing had definitely improved, because he could clearly distinguish different bird sounds-judging by the flapping of wings they had to be birds-and something that might have been insects or frogs. Frogs? Which meant pools and running water someplace. "This is a sustainable ecosystem, all by itself?"
"We are careful to maintain its balance, and it has benefited us in many ways."
An imperceptible shift in the atmosphere signaled to Rodney that someone else had approached them. Feeling a familiar sense of hesitation, he asked, "Turpi?"
Her hand touched his shoulder, but the ever-soothing sense of her presence was absent from his mind. He found he missed it terribly.
"You no longer fear me?" she asked.
"No. Before, when I, you know-" He was lousy at apologies. Probably due to a distinct lack of practice. "It was just a lot to take in.,
Although he couldn't see her, he sensed her shy pleasure, as if he'd presented her with a sonnet. "I am relieved," she said softly. "Are you hungry? I have brought a meal."
As it turned out, the soup he'd eaten before had only hinted at the culinary talents of this community. Turpi lifted each delicate bite to his lips, occasionally offering sips of a sweet wine. She was easily the most selfless being ever created, and he had trouble believing he'd ever been obtuse enough to doubt her.
"You are recovering well," she said approvingly.
"You insisted on it, daughter," Nabu commented, a mild rebuke in his tone. When Rodney frowned, he explained. "Your healing is due to Turpi alone, for her gift is almost as strong as that of the Ancients. She gave so much of herself-too much, really-to ensure that you would live."
The food was too good to curdle in his stomach, but he felt a momentary spasm. "I take it I had a close call?"
"You were a heartbeat away from death when I beamed you aboard my Dart. The skin had been stripped from your body, your eyes, ears and lips gone. The sand had begun to eat into your brain-"
"I get the idea." Now feeling distinctly ill, he swallowed, but he had to ask the next question. "Will I really be able to see again`? Or are we talking about light and dark blurs from now on?"
"The eyes and fingers have the most complex nerve endings. They will take the longest time to heal, but heal they will." Her lips brushed his temple before she raised the wine glass again. "In a few more days, you will be as beautiful as you once were"
Rodney considered himself fortunate to have avoided choking on the wine. Of all the words that had been used to describe him in the past, `beautiful' had never cracked the list. She'd seen him literally in pieces, and she'd seen inside his mind, and somehow she still was attracted to him. The concept amazed and touched him. He wanted to say something, but demonstrating gratitude wasn't one of his better-honed skills, either.
Thankfully, she didn't need to hear the words. "I was pleased to do it."
Feeling more secure than he had in some time, Rodney figured now was as good a moment as any to get some answers. "Nabu, how is it that you managed to steal and operate a Wraith Dart?"
"The tale is complicated. You must understand our history." The clink of eating implements being placed on a plate told him that Nabu had finished his own meal and settled back in his chair. "You know that some of us have the ability to see into the minds of others. To varying degrees, this includes the minds of the Wraith. When I was a young man, I was aware of being different, but had no understanding of how. Then, not long before I came of age, my village fell under attack by a group of Darts." His voice changed, taking on a darker tone that Rodney might not have detected if he'd been able to see. "When my family was among those taken, I was filled with an overpowering rage that I focused on the pilot of a Dart. The force of my anger caused the machine to crash. I realized only later that it had also killed my family and several others."
Rodney drew in a sharp breath. There was emotional baggage, and then there was emotional baggage…
"Other villagers witnessed what I had done," Nabu continued. "They saw my body glow with energy, and they were terrified."
Rodney clearly saw the images projected into his mind. He didn't try to fight them; there was nothing invasive about it, more like a movie that he could choose to watch or not. Except this was no movie but a heart-wrenching account of loss and betrayal. The images were shocking. Rejection alone would have been bad enough, but this was a witch-hunt. Dozens, hundreds of villagers screaming at a terrified kid, already distraught beyond measure after having inadvertently killed his family, driving him away from their homes with sticks and fistfuls of sand and fear-torn, ugly faces.
"They fled into their homes ahead of a sand storm. I was little more than a child, but no one would grant me shelter. Only after the sand had caused me disfiguring bums did I harness my ability well enough to force a second Dart to land. I had not intended to kill the pilot, nevertheless he was dead, so I took shelter inside his machine. When the other Darts left and the storm abated, the frightened villagers came out to attack me."
"So you used the Dart to escape," Rodney saw.
"It was not difficult, since the machine responds to mental commands. I fled to a village that had been decimated by a prior Wraith attack, and survived by using the Dart during storms to steal food and supplies from other villages."
The entire situation now became alarmingly clear. "Which propagated the myth of Wraith raids during storms."
"A misunderstanding I very much regret. At the time, there was little choice. Today we have no need to steal, but the fear persists." Resignation was heavy in Nabu's voice. "During one of my early forays, I heard the mind-cries of five children left to die in the sand and sensed a kinship with them. I beamed them onto the Dart and brought them back with me, but their injuries were too grave. Only one survived the ordeal. In time, though, I was able to save others. Slowly we began to learn and teach each other how to control our abilities. Many died in the process: some because I arrived too late to save them from the sands, others because they could not control their powers. Still more were driven truly mad by the torment of listening to a thousand minds flinging hatred and fear at them. However, over generations-"
"Whoa, back up," Rodney broke in. "Generations? How old are you?"
"I have seen many generations pass. My longevity is my physical abnormality"
Thrown for a loop, Rodney could only gape in the other man's general direction. What he could do with a few extra years… "Are you kidding? If anyone asked-and no one has-I'd take that burden gladly. For one thing, all those experiences must be an incredible weapon against the Wraith."