The man who had spoken possessed a hard face, and he looked at her as if she were a child at her mother's knee. Teyla bristled; she had not been treated with such disrespect since she had grown to womanhood. "He is dead," she told him coldly. "You may speak with me."
The man appeared uncomfortable for a moment and exchanged a look with his friendlier companion. "Very well," he said, although his voice did not warm. Then, indicating himself, he said, "Colonel Marshall Sumner." He vaguely nodded toward the other two men, "Lieutenant Alden Ford, Major John Sheppard." He paused briefly, "We have a very few specific needs-"
One of which was manners. "We do not trade with strangers."
"Is that a fact."
Behind her, Teyla could sense Toran's outrage; this man — Colonel Marshall Sumner — gave offense to all her people with his brash, forward demands. She was about to order them removed from the yurt when the other man spoke again.
"Then we'll just have to get to know each other." He smiled, and Teyla found her temper cooling. Major John Sheppard, he had been called. It was a strange name. "Me," he said, when she did not answer, "I like Ferris wheels, college football, and anything that goes more than two hundred miles an hour."
His meaning was entirely lost to her, but his intention was not. The warmth she had sensed was not feigned. Despite the ill manners of their leader, this man showed respect and an honest desire for friend ship.
"Sir?" the third man spoke. He was younger, clearly subordinate. "That's not going to mean anything-"
"Feel free to speak up," Major John Sheppard whispered. "I'm just tryin' to break the ice here."
"If they can't help us," Colonel Marshall Sumner cut in, as rude to his people as to her own, "I'd rather not waste our time."
Or ours. She considered the strangers for a moment longer, curious enough now to know more of these people. That they were not traders she was certain, and she believed it to be in the best interest of her people to find out more. "Each morning before dawn," she said, directing her words at Major John Sheppard, "our people drink a stout tea to brace us for the coming day." She hesitated, glancing between him and his leader. But the decision had been made. "Will you join us?"
"I love a good cup of tea," Sheppard enthused. And then, with a genuine smile, added, "There, that's something else you know about me. We're practically friends already."
It was not hard to believe that he meant his words, and Teyla was unable to keep from smiling as she led him to the table. Her father had often warned her not to be deceived by the charm of strangers, and she told herself she would be wary. Glancing over her shoulder she saw the other man — Colonel Marshall Sumner — shake his head in disapproval. If she had not cause already for caution, the obvious distrust between the travelers would keep her on her guard.
But Teyla Emmagan had long ago learned not to waste the chance to make friends, in whatever form they came. In a world haunted by death, only a fool turned her back on new allies.
Chapter Five
The local tea tasted sweet and spicy, its aroma filling the whole tent with a warmth that was oddly comforting. Sumner had left to check out the area a couple of minutes earlier, and the atmosphere among the locals had lightened considerably in his absence. Considering they really were in a galaxy far, far away, John Sheppard was astonished at the sense of ease he felt among these people. Sure they were different to your Average Joe, but the differences were superficial, and he could see an openness in their eyes that marked them as potential friends and allies. He saw this especially in Teyla Emmagan, who watched him with a mix of curiosity, skepticism, and humor. He liked her already.
All of which made his blatant lie about their intentions harder to maintain. Traders? Yeah, right. The pitiful collection of routine equipment he and Ford had laid out for inspection gave them away, and he was beginning to feel more than embarrassed by Ford's lame attempts at selling the wonders of their equipment.
"This here's called a Swiss Army Knife," he explained, picking up the knife and pulling out one of its blades. "You can cut with it, and there's a little nail file, and scissors-"
Teyla was clearly unconvinced and interrupted the sales pitch. "What is this?" she asked, pointing at one of their ration bars.
"Oh, that's called a power bar," Ford enthused, glancing at Sheppard with a glint in his eye. "It gives you power." He held it out to Teyla, who seemed impressed as she studied the silver wrapping.
It gives you power? Oh please. Irritated, Sheppard snatched the bar out of Ford's hand and flung him an angry look. "It's just food, ma'am," he told Teyla curtly, "that's all it is. Here, try it if you like."
Teyla took the bar and sniffed at it, her nose wrinkling. He didn't blame her. They weren't called emergency rations for nothing. Her dark gaze drifted toward her companion — Toran — and for a moment they exchanged an unreadable look.
"I do not believe they are traders," Toran said after a moment.
Sheppard gave him ten-out-of-ten for observation; their traveling salesman act wasn't fooling anybody. He was about to offer an explanation when Colonel Sumner ducked back under the tent flap, glancing around the room with obvious disdain before eyeballing Sheppard and making his way over. "Sorry to break up the party, kids," he drawled, barely looking at Teyla as he spoke. "Sheppard, there are some ruins down in the valley that look more promising than anything these folks have to offer. Plenty of shelter, nice little valley…"
"No one has lived there for many generations," Teyla interrupted, chin lifting.
Sumner swung his gaze down to her. "Why not?"
"The city of the Ancestors is not safe." It was Toran who spoke, his irritation evident, his tone cold and clipped.
"We can handle ourselves."
"The Wraith will come." There was real fear in the man's voice, a cold dread that ran icy fingers up Sheppard's spine.
"And there's that word again," he said quietly, aiming the comment at Sumner.
The Colonel took the hint, although without much interest. "Who are these Wraith?"
Teyla and Toran just stared at them in silence, as if they'd asked who was Santa Claus. Sheppard glanced over at Ford and the kid offered a slight shrug.
Cautiously, Teyla said, "We have never met anyone who did not know."
"You have now," Sumner told her.
Her expression was a mix of envy and disbelief. "If the Wraith have never touched your world," she said quietly, "you should go back there."
The icy chill running up Sheppard's spine turned into a fully-fledged shiver.
"We'd like to," Sumner said coldly, "but we can't." He paused for a beat, considering how much to reveal. "Look, here's the thing, ma'am. We've got ourselves into a bit of a bind, and we may need a safe place to stay for a while."
Teyla accepted the information without comment, but her open features were clouded with uncertainty. "Our people have long believed that the Wraith will come if we venture into the old city," she said cautiously. And then, with more determination, "But it is a belief we've not tested in some time."
Sumner didn't answer, his eyes falling on Sheppard. "Gentlemen…" Without further comment, he ducked back outside. Sheppard flung an apologetic smile at Teyla, who nodded slightly, before he followed Ford out of the tent.
The Colonel was waiting for them, glancing around the waking village with thinly disguised contempt. "Look, I don't care what they say," he said in a low voice. "That city is worth a look. Not to mention the possibility that there could be ZPMs there that these people don't know or care about."
His attitude was familiar; Sheppard had seen it a dozen times in various parts of the world. It was so easy to dismiss the beliefs and experiences of a primitive' people and to rely on the firepower of a dozen P90s instead. Sumner needed to wake up; they weren't in Kansas anymore. Or even Afghanistan. "What if these Wraith are the enemy that Ancient hologram lady was talking about?"