“They come from a different world, Father,” Kesun reminded, his expression asking the visitors to be patient. John couldn’t blame him. Most of the Chosen looked like escapees from a nursing home. More than one of them were teetering on the brink of senility, and one old codger looked and sounded like he could really use some oxygen therapy. This was the cornerstone of the Daleran defense system?
Rodney possessed a better poker face than might be expected, but he rarely bothered to use it. His expression now conveyed a shade of disillusionment that bordered on derision. “I suppose this explains why the coverage of the EM fields is patchy.”
Kesun was apparently a quick study, because he looked shrewdly at Rodney and said, “If you refer to the protection given us by the Shields of Dalera—”
“The PENEs, but yes.”
“Say what?” John was sure he’d heard that wrong. Must’ve been the Canadian accent.
Rodney blinked at him, clearly missing a clue. “Personal Electromagnetic Nullification Emitters.”
John rubbed at the bridge of his nose, hoping to avoid the onset of a McKay-induced headache. “All right, now you’re banned from naming things, too. How about we stick to calling them ‘Shields’?” He sent the same apologetic look to Kesun that the youngest Chosen had offered him moments earlier. “You were saying?”
“The Wraith left us in peace for generations,” Kesun began. “But they returned several weeks ago to bring death once more. As Dalera commanded, the youngest among us left the Enclave and traveled to the Chosen’s ancestral homes, which are known by all as Stations, to stand in defense. But the Citadel has grown much since Dalera departed this world, and our protection is no longer sufficient.”
Looking unmoved, Rodney wandered off to examine the Ancient lettering that had caught his attention. “This tells of our history,” Kesun explained, crossing the room to join him. “As do the teaching windows in the Sanctuary Halls.”
John walked with him. The elder Chosen at the table appeared not to notice their departure. “You mean that marketplace we transported into?”
“There are many such Halls scattered throughout the Citadel.” Kesun’s jaw flexed. “We ordered them cleared of stalls after the Wraith returned.” He shook his head in resignation. “We warned Gat and the merchants that their blasphemy would be punished, as generations past have been punished for their lack of reverence. So soon memories fade.”
Visibly bristling, Rodney whirled around, his notebook falling to his side. “And how precisely do you define blasphemy?”
“Ahem.” John tapped his toe in warning. He wanted to wait as long as possible before they inevitably did something to piss these people off. “Let’s get the full story.”
Pointing to the Ancient writings on the stone tablets set in the wall, Kesun said, “Five thousand years ago our world was a peaceful place.”
That didn’t add up. “Five thousand years?” John glanced at Rodney.
“Near as I could tell from our preliminary scan, this planet’s orbit around its sun takes twice as long as Earth’s. So, their years are—”
“Twice as long. Just checking.” He smiled at Kesun and indicated for the man to continue.
“When word of the Wraith reached us, the Ancestors returned to their home in the heavens, Atlantis. One Ancestor, however, remained behind. Her name was Dalera.”
“She stayed to protect you?” John ventured.
Kesun shook his head. “The Ancestors banished her to this world for her sins, and cast the great ring into the heavens.” His eyes looked skyward.
“What exactly were her sins?”
Smiling sadly, he replied, “Dalera fell in love with a man of this world, and bore his children.”
“Hold on a minute,” Rodney demanded. “You mean Dalera, an Ancient, was banished for having children with a human?” He spun to face John. “Do you know what this means?”
“It would explain why these people have the ATA gene.”
The impatient gesture he received in response hinted to John that he wouldn’t have won any money on a Rodney-designed game show with that answer. “Yes, obviously. Try not to strain yourself by looking a little deeper for a change.” He waved his pen around like a weapon. “It also means the Ancients viewed themselves as being superior to mere humans, to such an extent that they placed a taboo on mating with them!”
That wasn’t a particularly happy thought, but they’d been learning new facets of the Ancients everywhere they went. Not all of it cast the architects of Atlantis in an entirely positive light. “One step at a time, okay?” John tossed another, less certain smile in Kesun’s direction.
“When the Wraith came,” Kesun continued, “those who remained on the great hill upon which the Enclave was built were protected by an invisible wall that none could penetrate. Our numbers were few, and the land inside this wall, which extended from where the river divides to where it rejoins once more, was sufficient to feed us.
“Generations passed.” Kesun’s tone had taken on the cadence of a teaching allegory. “Then came the day when the Wraith attacks ceased. Dalera, whose children by then had grown and had children of their own, devised a set of laws that would protect her people for all time. The invisible barrier was removed and a wall built along the shores of the river. The entire island within became known as the Citadel. The people crossed the channels to sow new pastures and to fish the nearby seas. Dalera and her children fashioned many thousands of Shields—”
“Thousands?” Rodney stopped scribbling in his notebook to massage a cramp out of his hand.
“Yes. For as her children and her children’s children went forth and multiplied, each took with them many Shields of Dalera to protect those outside the Citadel should the Wraith return. Dalera also fashioned the transports.” Kesun walked across to another wall and, opening a wooden panel, revealed an Ancient-designed ground plan of the Citadel and surrounding countryside.
The strategy was immediately obvious. Set up the Citadel as a highly defendable fortress, and install transport systems in outlying villages. When the Wraith attacked, the Chosen within the Citadel would create an overlapping coverage with the Shields. The EM fields of the Chosen living in the villages would also activate, forcing the attackers out of the sky and giving farmers and fishermen time to evacuate through the transports ahead of any ground assault.
John had to give the long-departed Dalera credit. Whatever else she might have been, her tactical instincts had been damned good.
“The plan must not have been carried to its ultimate conclusion,” observed Rodney. “Since there’s only one continent, by now the entire planet’s landmass should be protected by a series of cities and villages spread at equidistant points. It would completely forestall any Wraith culling whatsoever.”
“So what went wrong?” John asked.
“It was as you say. Dalera had meant for our world to one day be protected from the evil of the Wraith.” Kesun’s expression darkened. “But as time passed, Dalera left us, and many generations without an attack dispelled the people’s fear of the Wraith. They betrayed Dalera’s memory, breaking her most sacred laws.”
Even without looking, John could tell that Rodney had something to say about that. He stepped in to head off the objection. “Exactly what were these laws?”
“That people who ventured forth from the Citadel to till the lands beyond must only do so in places designated by the Chosen.”
“Based on this defensive plan,” John said, examining the map. “That makes sense.”
Kesun inclined his head in agreement. “Few were willing to travel great distances to settle and farm areas selected by the Chosen simply in the name of protection against an enemy whose horrors none could recall. Instead, they turned barbarian. Abandoning their belief in Dalera, they felled forests and tilled the earth in unprotected places.”