On an intellectual level, he knew that his expedition existed to discover technologies that could be used to defend their home galaxy against the enslaving Goa’uld. But that long-term view was hard to keep in focus when the short-term frequently challenged them just to stay alive. “It’s not their fault that they don’t have the outside knowledge we do,” he argued. “From their perspective, this all makes sense. When people stray from Dalera’s rules, the Wraith eventually attack, so they naturally connect the two.”
“That’s all very well and good, but there’s a fundamental catch, and it goes like this: correlation does not imply causation.” Rodney stalked further out onto the balcony. “In other words, just because two events happen in close proximity—”
“I know what it means, McKay. You’re not the only one who ever took a lab class.” The switch to his last name made an impression, and Rodney closed his mouth, at least temporarily. “The thing is, the two are correlated,” John continued. “The Wraith can only attack successfully when people settle outside the limits of the shields and transport system that Dalera put in place. We see it as a technological limitation; they see it as a lack of faith. Either way, the end result is the same.”
“They only see it that way because they’ve lost their knowledge of what Dalera really was.” Rodney waved the notebook in his hand. “Otherwise they wouldn’t have deified her.”
“You don’t know that. They view the ATA gene as a mark of favored status—”
“Which is undeniably ludicrous!”
His vehemence shocked John and might have even surprised Rodney himself. After a moment of awkward silence, the scientist continued in a more controlled tone, “The humans who lived here at the time of the Ancients must have realized that they weren’t infallible, because Dalera’s experiments were dismissed as failures.”
“Experiments?”
“Some sort of automated neural interface device, probably to do with ascension. There are mentions of her work all over the place — the writing is quite literally on the wall. But since I’ve currently got no sensors, it’s anyone’s guess as to whether any of her equipment or data still exists.” He waved his hand dismissively. “My point here is that those humans died out. Left behind, Dalera and her offspring did such a bang-up job of running things that everyone got a little too comfortable with the state of affairs. Eventually, if you’ll pardon the reference, the Chosen started to drink their own Kool-Aid.”
The analogy was disturbing, if not altogether unjustified. “Let’s think big picture for a minute,” suggested John. “Flat-out attacking a society’s belief structure is generally not a good first step. I don’t know if you noticed, but there are some very sharp-looking objects on this planet, and this might just get the wrong end pointed at us.”
Rodney cocked an eyebrow. “Not fond of telling truth to power, are you?”
“They stationed me in Antarctica. Draw your own conclusions.” John trained an unflinching gaze on Rodney until the other man yielded.
“Fine. Let me study the Shields, and I’ll bite my tongue. I just — I find it absurd that an entire civilization can act according to fatally flawed reasoning. Especially the kind that segregates power in one place and one place only.”
There was more to it than that, John suspected, but this wasn’t the right venue to explore it. “Their backs are against a wall, and they’re assuming we’re here to help. We need to find out what they’re open to and try to stay as open as possible ourselves.”
Rodney gave a shrug of indifference and turned toward the balcony door, tossing a last comment over his shoulder. “Incidentally, did our young Lieutenant pick himself up a groupie, or what?”
Smothering a grin, John remembered how Lisera had looked at Ford like he was the ‘cute one’ in a boy band. Taking one last scanning glance over the Citadel, he tried to gauge where that particular Sanctuary Hall might be located. He hadn’t been able to get much of a look at the map inside the transport, something he intended to rectify on the return trip. Teyla and Ford would be getting along famously with their Daleran hosts by now, he was sure. There was no reason to worry or feel guilty about leaving them on their own.
Nope, no reason at all.
Other than the fact that concern and self-recrimination seemed to be built into his job description. There were some distinct downsides to being in charge.
Running a hand through his hair, John sighed and followed Rodney inside.
Chapter Six
Not being an idiot, Rodney knew that Sheppard was right about making nice with these people. Their brief experience in the marketplace had demonstrated that becoming the subject of a witch-hunt would be ridiculously easy, and no one had ever accused him of being careless with his own welfare.
Kesun’s expression was carefully neutral as they approached, but he kept his gaze trained on Sheppard, politely ignoring Rodney. Yep, he’d landed himself on probation already.
“Are you agreed?” Kesun asked without preamble. “You will aid us?”
Sheppard’s eyes flicked toward Rodney for a second before he answered. “I’m not entirely sure that we can.”
“It is a simple truth,” Kesun persisted. “One that has been proven time and again for all to see. The blasphemous ways of the barbarians bring the Wraith upon us.”
His resigned tone was one that Rodney knew well. It had been heard from any number of Atlantis’s scientists when they were unable to make everyone around them see the brilliance of their ideas. Problem was, their ideas were only occasionally brilliant, yet the tone was chronically present.
With the sort of revelation that seemed reserved only for zealots, Kesun added, “Your arrival from Atlantis is undisputable proof of Dalera’s existence. I believe it is a sign that only when every barbarian acknowledges Dalera, and abandons their sinful ways for all time can we be saved. A demonstration of your power may encourage this.” He glanced at Sheppard. “Perhaps your weapons—?”
You’re joking, right?
Before Rodney could decide how best to word his emphatic refusal, Sheppard responded, “We didn’t come here either to affirm or question your people’s faith in Dalera. In any case, what you’ve just suggested is not likely to restore your defensive capabilities, especially now that the Wraith have returned.” Quickly and, Rodney had to admit, tactfully avoiding the reason why the Wraith were putting in an appearance ahead of schedule, the Major added, “What happened to reduce the numbers of Chosen so drastically?”
No longer able to contain his disdain, Rodney snapped, “That’s patently obvious.” Creating a genetic hegemony in any society could only lead to one, inevitable outcome, especially when it had been maintained over several thousand years. On that note, senility probably wasn’t the only thing plaguing their mental faculties.
Sheppard looked at him expectantly.
“The Chosen don’t really, ah, get out much, if you catch my drift.” Rodney stashed his notebook in his pack.
Further explanation didn’t appear to be required. The Major’s forehead creased thoughtfully. “Kesun?” he said, offering up a polite smile. “Have any of you taken husbands or wives outside the Chosen?”
Kesun shook his head. “It is forbidden.”
“One of Dalera’s laws?”
“Once, every child born to this world was touched with a Shield. If the Shield’s color came alive, such children were considered Chosen. Alas, during the times of the barbarians, these children were put to death, along with their mothers. When the Chosen emerged to defend against the Wraith, we banned this ritual so that no child should ever again suffer at the hands of the hateful and ignorant.”
The idea that there might have been a legitimate reason for their isolation took Rodney by surprise. He’d expected something more pompous. Unfortunately, the validity of the practice wasn’t the issue.