"We rarely have a need to engage the Wraith," Nabu said, "unless it is to take additional Darts for the purpose of rescuing more abandoned children. Though the cliff-dwellers may believe the Wraith continue to terrorize this world, we have long been able to protect it through deception. Recently, a group of our strongest telepaths convinced a hive ship that Polrusso was a barren wasteland, home to only a few sickly inhabitants unworthy of the hive's attention."
Ideas were coming to Rodney faster than he could process them. Overwhelmed, he stammered, "Do you realize what incred ible potential your people have? If it only takes a few minds to create a planet-wide subterfuge, the number of worlds that could be protected-"
"The notion has occurred to us." And there was the resignation again. "But there are obstacles. Although the toxic sand is a normal byproduct of the terraforming process, on other planets it was only present in the initial stages, and never this destructive. Even so, the Ancestors never lived on worlds still undergoing terraforming. Based on what I have learned, I have come to believe that the Ancestors initiated an experiment on Polrusso."
Rodney had three multifaceted questions formed before he decided to wait for a change and listen to the full explanation.
Nabu presented his theory as skillfully as any Earthbound academic. "During the terraforming process, Polrusso was seeded with a massive dose of the caustic toxin, ensuring that it penetrated the biosphere on all levels. Then experimental subjects-humans-were introduced. All life forms must adapt to reach a stable relationship with their environment, and so the toxin was incorporated into the human genetic code. After five hundred generations, the effects are now rather apparent." There was a glimmer of a rueful smile in his voice. "While we may be a bit odd-looking, the abilities we possess must undoubtedly render the experiment a success. And it appears that the situation is stabilizing in newer generations. Not all among us are able to bear children, but the offspring who survive infancy are physically better suited to Polrusso's harsh environment. They are less deformed, more mentally adept, and able to cope with the sand from a young age. Our people are at last adjusting to this world, but I believe many more generations will pass before the process is complete."
"I still don't see why leaving to help other planets should present a problem." Rodney tried not to sound too eager to return to the topic at hand.
"The genetic alteration is ongoing. There are many thousands of my people now-far more than there are cliff-dwellers-most of whom have profound deformities. Some would call them gro tesque. The cliff-dwellers are terrified of us, as others would certainly be."
To Rodney's way of thinking, the whole thing smacked of lousy experimental design. Granted, `let's see what happens' was a fundamental tenet of science, but with human subjects? Any reputable university's ethics board would have a conniption. "With all their technology and knowledge, the Ancients couldn't have improved on this evolutionary process`? Say, speed it up to something short of ten thousand years?"
"In fact they did. Experiments were conducted on many other planets as well. Some humans have developed an immunity to the Wraith."
Had he never set foot on Hoff a year ago, Rodney would have been apoplectic with enthusiasm over that possibility. But he'd seen the tradeoff the Hoffans had had to make to achieve their immunity, and he was inclined to believe that there was no such thing as a free lunch.
"Evolution can be guided, just as humans crossbreed plants and animals to create healthier strains," Nabu continued. "This habitat in which we are seated is one such example: it is filled with many varieties of grass. Some are better suited to light, while others are stunted by the sun and prefer shade. This is the reason Atlas and Ea were forbidden to experiment on Polrusso with their exogenesis machine."
His mention of the names caused Rodney to sit forward. "You know about that, too? How-?"
"Although the cliff-dwellers cannot access the laboratory, I have the required gene," Nabu replied simply. "One of our people beams me into the lab near the Stargate for a time and then returns to beam me out again. Over the generations I have gathered information from the Ancestors' records."
It occurred to Rodney to wonder how Nabu had come by the ATA gene, but any theories he might construct on that front would wait for another time. "I don't suppose the sight of a Wraith Dart flying around does much to keep the cliff-dwellers calm."
"I have tried to reason with many of their Elders in the past, to convince them that their deformed offspring are not Wraithspawn. But their prejudices run deep. My cause is not aided by the fact that my white hair and the long scars on my face make me resemble a Wraith."
Rodney was beginning to suspect that seeing Nabu when they first met might have been as frightening as not seeing him. "So if the population is stabilizing in a genetic sense, the villages must be finding that more and more of their children are, ah, affected."
"That is true. In this latest generation, fully two thirds of live births in the villages have resulted in deformities or late-onset symptoms of madness. Even as we speak, my people are flying the Darts. They will return with many more children abandoned by the cliff-dweller villages."
It was hard to avoid some contempt for the cliff-dwellers. How could a bunch of otherwise civilized, cultured people turn every piece of evidence they'd been shown into some warped horror story? Wraithspawn? A hive ship at the bottom of the oceanic basin?
Abruptly, Rodney was gripped by a sense of panic. He pushed the chair back and rose to begin pacing, vaguely aware that Turpi was still at his side, supporting and guiding him. The cliff-dwellers believed that Nabu's home was a hive ship. He and his team had been all set to flood the place. "Where exactly on the planet are we located right now?" he demanded.
"You need not concern yourself," Nabu told him. "While the program to create and store water is complete, the oceans will not be released until the last of the toxin has broken down. Despite your belief that the machine need only be turned off, safety protocols would have prevented you from shutting down the shields."
Rodney stopped and swung around to face the direction he was relatively certain Nabu was sitting. "Yes, well, I appreciate that reassurance, but unfortunately that's not what I'm worried about. The idea I had pretty much determined to implement was to remove the ZPMs that hold back the water." He went on to describe the sequencing scheme to distribute the power load until the first shield failed, aware that the other man had become conspicuously silent.
At last, in a voice that held shock and not a little alarm, Nabu said, "I see." By the sound of it, he'd risen from his chair. "A resourceful plan… and quite achievable."
And that was the textbook definition of `backhanded compliment.' Rodney sensed a flash of worry from Turpi as well, and hoped that she understood his reasons. "We didn't know what was here, obviously, or we never would have…" Tentatively, he asked, "Can you evacuate your people?"
"We have many Darts, but most are a great distance away, patrolling the sand storms on the far side of the planet. Even so, we have several hundred thousand people now living in scattered communities throughout the basins."
Though the sheer numbers staggered Rodney, they made sense. The Wraith were being held at bay, and the percentage of `deformed' births was rising, so naturally the population would swell. That knowledge did nothing to quell the churning in his stomach at the idea of how many homes would be reduced to rubble at the bottom of a new ocean. The children's voices made their way into his thoughts again, confronting him with a harsh reminder of exactly what was at stake.