Without technologically sophisticated means of transportation, John could understand why the farmers wouldn’t want to trek for miles to get their goods to the primary market — the Citadel. A sudden thought struck him. “Couldn’t they have used the transports built by Dalera to get their crops to the city?”
“This was done, yes. That is why the Sanctuary Halls have traditionally been used as markets during the times when the Wraith leave our world in peace.” Kesun closed the panel. “Farmers, hunters and fishermen paid the Chosen for this service.”
Rodney shook his head. “Is it me, or does that demonstrate a stunning lack of foresight on the part of a supposedly enlightened being? The system by its very nature creates an imperialistic society with a ruling class based on birth.”
Cursing inwardly, and wishing he could install some kind of tact filter on his teammate, John watched Kesun’s reaction. The Chosen’s once-placid expression had tightened somewhat. He might not have fully understood the terms that Rodney had used, but there was no mistaking the veiled haughtiness in the scientist’s body language. With a glare, John flicked his hand in a ‘knock it off’ gesture.
His bearing more guarded than before, Kesun continued. “The Chosen refused to transport those crops grown in forbidden places. Those who turned their backs on Dalera’s laws became outlaws — barbarians — and responded by setting up their own towns and villages. Time passed and these barbarians dabbled in the black arts, developing Wraithcraft — which is also forbidden under Dalera’s laws.”
“Lovely. Perfect way to ensure the oppression of a society, by inhibiting technological development,” Rodney muttered. “They were called the Dark Ages on Earth for a reason.”
A moment passed as John just looked at him in disbelief. For an intelligent man, McKay could be incredibly shortsighted. “You’re the one who figured out it was our stuff than triggered the alarms,” he reminded him. “With Shields going glowy all the time, their early warning system would be useless. Which means the Wraith could simply attack on foot and get the drop on everyone.”
“It was as you say,” Kesun told them. “For this, the barbarians were banned from the Citadel and the protected lands. But with their Wraithcraft, their numbers multiplied. They settled distant lands until soon there were many more of them than of those who followed the old ways. These barbarians said that Dalera, and indeed Atlantis, was but a myth and the Wraith nothing more than evil lies fostered by the Chosen. They claimed that the Shields were wicked things, meant only to destroy their Wraithcraft, which besotted them.”
John had studied enough history to get an idea of where this was headed. It depressed the hell out of him, because it meant that no matter where humans set up shop, they invariably made the same mistakes. Not the kind of thing to give a guy a lot of confidence in the notion of self-determination.
“Dalera is compassionate, but she does not suffer betrayal. For as it is written, the Wraith returned.” The regret that marred Kesun’s face was genuine. John glanced over at Rodney, but he’d gone off in exasperation and was busying himself with a study of the Ancient texts. “From all across Dalera, people fled to the Citadel and sought the protection of the Chosen. But it was refused.”
A mutter that sounded something like ‘naturally’ drifted from Rodney’s direction.
“It was not an easy choice, but it was one that had to be made. With so few followers of Dalera, the Citadel had fallen into disrepair, and the Chosen knew that they could protect only the Enclave.”
For an instant, John felt a flicker of the same ire that Rodney had displayed. The last time he’d faced a choice like that, about who could and couldn’t be saved, it had started him down a road in Afghanistan that hadn’t exactly served him well.
“When the culling was over, those who survived begged our forgiveness. The Chosen emerged from the Enclave, and urged the people to once more follow the righteous ways of Dalera. But through the ages, the sequence of events which led to the tragedy was repeated again and again.” Kesun turned and walked out on the balcony.
John followed, and he realized that they weren’t in the main part of the city anymore, but on the highest point of the Citadel. While the expanse of sky, picture-perfect mountains and surrounding greenery was striking, he was more interested in focusing on what little he could see of the city below. A massive stone bridge, not unlike a smaller version of London’s Tower Bridge, spanned one of the river channels. The square leading onto the bridge seemed alive with activity, as did the cluster of surrounding streets and alleys.
He recalled the semi-controlled chaos that had reigned in some of the garden spots to which he’d been deployed. Earth certainly couldn’t point any fingers when it came to coexistence of divergent beliefs. Humans there had been doing a spectacular job of tearing each other apart for such things all by themselves. Throw a savage alien enemy into the mix, and he counted the Dalerans lucky to still have any semblance of a civilization left.
Leaning on the edge of the balcony, Kesun said, “Your friend does not agree with our ways.”
Glancing back at Rodney, John replied, “They’re foreign to us. Some of us take longer than others to accept the idea that different ways aren’t necessarily wrong.”
“I understand. Although it is the barbarians who bring the Wraith upon us, Dalera charged us to protect all against this most ancient of foes, showing favor no more or less to one or another.” An air of defeat resonated from the Daleran. “Yet we are once more forced to choose, for we are too few to shield all designated villages from attack. Indeed, we are too few to protect even the Citadel.”
Eyes clouding, Kesun turned to face him. “The Wraith have also returned sooner than expected. We prayed to Dalera to give us guidance. When you said you had come from Atlantis, I had believed our prayers were answered. Our situation grows increasingly dire. You see, I am the last of the Chosen. Our hope for the future died when my wife died in childbirth just six months ago.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” It was a conditioned response, and it wasn’t until after he’d given it that John thought about the wider implications of that statement. “I have to be honest with you. I’m not sure how we can help.”
“You have come through the ring from the city in the heavens. Your very presence here is evidence that our faith is not misplaced.”
Kesun’s expression of faltering confidence was almost painful to witness. The survival of his people was at stake, and everything he had ever believed was telling him to place his faith in strangers. John recalled the distrust they’d faced in the marketplace, and it clawed at his insides to realize that Kesun’s hopes were built on a very tenuous foundation.
“We didn’t come here to prop up your evangelistic little regime.” That harsh declaration came from the doorway, where Rodney stood with folded arms and a sour expression.
That did it. John drew on all the patience he possessed and turned to Kesun. “Would it be all right if my teammate and I took a few minutes to discuss some things?”
The Chosen nodded acquiescence. “Of course. I will wait inside.” His spine rigid with tension, he strode past with barely a glance toward Rodney.
The moment Kesun was out of sight, John spun toward the scientist, making no attempt to curb his irritation. “How hard would it be to bite back those superior comments for just a little while? Would it really be beyond your social skills?”
That triggered a flash of something dark in Rodney’s gaze. “You really think enabling a whole system of misplaced beliefs is a better idea? You did get filled in on the concept behind the Goa’uld at some point, didn’t you?”
John wasn’t about to admit it, but that parallel hadn’t crossed his mind. Having joined the Atlantis expedition at essentially the last minute, his knowledge of the Stargate program back on Earth had some gaps in it.