When the firing stopped, Rodney raised his head and chanced a look around. A Wraith carving, doubtless serving the same ridiculously superstitious and utterly pointless function as a medieval gargoyle, smashed down into a market stall, scattering assorted pots and pans.
He welcomed the aroma of spent cordite, even if it failed to mask the obnoxious scent of poorly maintained sewers. In a brief moment of detachment, Rodney realized that he didn’t entirely like what that said about him. He’d had a much clearer viewpoint on weapons, and perhaps the military mindset as a whole, up until a few days ago. Kolya’s cold-blooded tactics had altered his perspective. Now, he viewed the weapon at his side not as a necessary evil, but as necessary.
In any case, the automatic fire had halted the warriors in their tracks, and provoked a mass evacuation of the markets. Not a bad start.
Unlike everyone else, the Hagar type, Kesun, hadn’t ducked for cover, but was instead directing troops to run off and do whatever it was that troops like these did. No doubt it would involve reinforcements and considerably more lethal weapons than the Viking-inspired battleaxes and halberds currently being wielded. On the plus side, around the official’s neck, the pendant which looked suspiciously like a personal shield device had now faded from its formerly brilliant glowing aquamarine to a flat, somewhat dull turquoise. Hopefully, that would put an end to this absurd situation.
“They’re not Wraith, Kesun!” called a newly familiar voice. “They come from a far away land.”
“Yann’s right,” Sheppard replied, not relaxing his weapon’s aim. “The Wraith are just as much an enemy to us as they are to you.”
“Yet you carry Wraithcraft,” Kesun rasped.
“Yes, but we’ve turned them off,” Rodney declared with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He glanced at Sheppard, and pointed to the bluestone accessory hanging from Kesun’s neck. “Those aren’t personal shield devices. I’m certain they’re the source of the EM fields we saw from the jumper. They must automatically detect and deactivate all electromagnetic devices, except the transport and themselves, of course.” Belatedly, he recognized the implications of that idea. “Well, that’s not going to make it any easier to figure out how they work. How am I supposed to take any readings when they turn off everything?”
If anything, Kesun’s glower deepened.
“What? Now what did I say?”
“The penalty for Wraithcraft is death!”
“You mean this?” Rodney lifted his sensor. A dozen warriors immediately raised their axes. He rolled his eyes, getting tired of this game. Dealing with ignorance was complicated enough. Ignorance combined with threats of violence was just plain irritating. “You have got to be kidding me. Not only is this equipment completely unrelated to the Wraith, some of it’s not even original to this galaxy.”
“I don’t think these guys are likely to appreciate the distinction.” Sheppard lifted the muzzle of his P-90 higher. “Look, this is not a Wraith weapon. Watch.” He fired a single round into the ceiling before Rodney could comment about this being the traditional military solution to everything. A few splintered chips of timber rained down. The bluish crystal around the official’s neck remained obligingly dull. “See? Not a blink.”
Kesun’s gaze was still deeply suspicious. “From whence do you come?” he demanded, edging closer and eyeing their clothes.
“Atlantis,” replied the Major.
If discovering that Sheppard could operate the transport had come as a shock to the villagers, that little announcement more or less turned the place on its ear. The troops instantly fell to their knees, while Kesun’s face displayed an impressive range of emotions, beginning with horror and ending with delirious happiness. “Dalera!” he breathed, turning to Teyla with his hands upraised. “You have returned to us!”
Good grief. All this vacillation was giving Rodney vertigo. And apparently raising one’s hands to give thanks to some mythical being was a universal trait no matter what galaxy one inhabited. He made a note to let the anthropology team know about that, assuming they made it safely off this planet before being classified as hostile yet again.
Teyla had barely worked up a sweat after having dispatched the two warriors who now groveled at her feet. Casting a cautious glance around her, she stepped forward and said, “My name is Teyla.”
Dropping his hands, Kesun’s eyes fell to Lisera, then returned to the Athosian. “You are not Dalera? And yet you are a healer, and you are from Atlantis.” His smile turned curious. “You are a sister to Dalera, perhaps?”
“We come from Atlantis, yes,” Teyla replied, apparently going for the simple and honest approach. “However, we are not the Ancestors.”
“Then how can this be?” Kesun examined the now-closed transport doors, his face a mask of confusion. “Only the Chosen have the divine power.”
And there they went again. Divine? This construct of ATA ability as some kind of holy gift was grating on Rodney’s nerves. He considered saying something, but a glance toward Sheppard’s heavy boots made his toes throb, and he thought better of it.
Behind his carrot-colored beard, Kesun’s face went through another contorted set of emotions. “Which of you operated the transport?” he demanded.
“They used Wraith trickery,” called Balzar. “Kill them all!”
“Wraithcraft cannot deceive Dalera,” Kesun announced, and from somewhere deep inside of his pelt robe, he pulled out another one of the shield devices and handed it to Sheppard.
“The Shield of Dalera,” came the mutters of various villagers and merchants who were slowly lifting their heads above the market stalls. “Kesun is allowing the newcomers to touch one of the Shields!”
Rodney accepted the Shield from the Major and inspected it for similarities to the personal shield device. Superficially, it appeared almost identical, except, of course, for the color.
“Pass it to the others,” Kesun ordered him.
Reluctantly handing the device to Ford, Rodney muttered, “Hurry up. I need to take another look at it.”
The aquamarine crystal within abruptly changed from a lifeless turquoise to black. In Teyla’s hands, it remained black, until she handed it back to Rodney. The color returned, although it did not glow. No surprise there, since the devices had obviously been programmed to work only in the presence of the ATA gene. However, unlike the personal shields, these apparently did not encode themselves to a user’s unique DNA. Interesting concept. Activating only in the presence of Wraith Darts and stun weapons was certainly an efficient way to conserve power, but it seemed the things blocked all EM radiation, Ancient and human.
Turning to Rodney and Sheppard, Kesun gave a respectful but no longer ingratiating bow, and said, “As Chosen, you are most welcome to Dalera.”
“Dalera?” Rodney said, fingering the device. “I’m confused. Isn’t that what you just called Teyla?”
“I believe it is also the name of their world,” Teyla ventured.
“Come.” Kesun headed to the transport. “I shall take you to meet the other Chosen.”
Ford hesitated. “Sir? What about Lisera?”
“You are not of the Chosen.” Kesun glanced down at the girl, then up at Teyla and Ford. “You may not enter the Enclave.”
Rodney was about to protest, but the Major got in ahead of him. “Okay, well, that doesn’t work for us. Splitting up wasn’t in our plans.”