A less-than-comfortable silence fell in the corridor as they waited for a signal from inside the main chamber. Sheppard eventually offered up a neutral token of conversation. “So, no ZPM, huh?”
“I doubt it.” Rodney pulled his Shield off the belt clip and examined it. “They appear to be modeled on the personal shields, drawing just enough energy from the bearer to activate the crystal inside, hence the change in color from black to aquamarine. Primary power likely comes from the very EM fields and any incoming energy weapons’ fire that they’re blocking, which in turn causes the crystals to illuminate, thereby serving as a warning to the bearers. Similar to the way I used lightning to power the shield generators on Atlantis. Rather imaginative, really.” Ignoring the Major’s rolled eyes, he examined the casing. Something was buried inside one end of it. “Probably also has some sort of capacitor—”
“The others will speak to you.” Kesun addressed Sheppard. “Come.” With a soft hiss of fur across the polished floor, he led them back into the main chamber.
Rodney hung back a step. If they respected Sheppard more for whatever reason, then let him handle it.
Kesun’s father regarded them coolly. “The scourge of the Wraith has remained constant for thousands of years,” he said. “Barbarians have seen to that. Now that their wickedness has poisoned even the righteous with their Wraithcraft, Dalera has turned her back upon us all.”
Oh, yes, another hugely profound surprise. Divine self-righteousness taken to its ultimate conclusion. The Wraith would get more sustenance from a used toothpick than they would from these Chosen, so let the masses burn — or in this case, have the life sucked from them — as punishment for their evil ways. “Anyone spell Armageddon?” Rodney muttered. He probably could have shouted it because no one except Sheppard seemed to hear.
“The arrival of our guests from Atlantis could also be a sign that Dalera is giving us a final chance, Father,” Kesun suggested.
An emphysemic wheeze erupted from one of the others. “You encourage us to interfere with Dalera’s design for her people?” A second wheeze followed before he added, “How are we to know that this potion you offer is not Wraithcraft by another name?” A crackle of falling logs and a shower of sparks in the fireplace seemed to add weight to his point.
Kesun looked mildly appalled at that. “An offer was made and declined. There is no cause for accusation. I am merely suggesting that if the Chosen were also to return to the old ways, of taking unto them wives from the people, and testing each child at birth—”
“I will hear no more of this!” Kesun’s father decreed with a weak pounding of his fist on the table. The helmet wobbled dangerously close to the edge, and Kesun snatched it up. “Dalera has deemed that the wicked shall be punished.”
The warning look that both Sheppard and Kesun shot Rodney wasn’t necessary. He was so far beyond irate that he could focus only on the thing they’d come for. And since it was obvious that even if there was a ZPM someplace, there was no possible way he could locate it, he clutched firmly onto his Shield. At least they’d gained something from this otherwise utterly wasted excursion.
“I will accompany our visitors back to the Sanctuary Hall,” Kesun said, giving a polite bow in the general direction of the table.
They made an awkward attempt at bidding farewell to the Chosen and left the room, trailing in Kesun’s wake.
The drink that Yann had purchased from a nearby stall was sweet and warm, with a trace of an unfamiliar spice. Teyla smiled her thanks, clasping the mug in both hands.
Lieutenant Ford made a surprised sound. “It’s like hot cider!” he said happily, passing his cup to Lisera.
The girl’s answering smile was genuine, if a bit blank. Seeing the Lieutenant pleased, it seemed, was enough to please her. She took a measured sip of the steaming drink, as if afraid to offend by indulging too much, then shyly handed it back to Ford, and pointed up to the last of the teaching windows. “Entire families of Chosen once lived in the protected villages, along with garrisons of warriors. But then barbarians broke Dalera’s laws, settled in forbidden lands and, having invaded the Citadel, forced the Chosen to live inside their Enclave.” She cast her gaze downward. “The lack of faith by some punishes all.”
Soot and grime smudged the once brightly colored windows. When Teyla pulled her gaze from them, Yann’s hard-faced expression caught her attention. “Is there more to tell?” she asked him.
Yann hesitated, casting a glance at Lisera. “The girl is not wrong,” he allowed. “But she speaks with the voice of a child. Farming lands outside the Chosen’s decree was not done to give insult to Dalera. It was a necessity. The prescribed lands are far from the Citadel and heavily forested. While we have blackpowder that can be used to remove tree stumps from some lands, the problem of distance cannot be remedied, and the Chosen have long neglected the task of transporting the crops to market. We have been forced to use beasts of burden to pull our goods by cart, but the distance is too great. Unless the nearer lands are tilled, the crops spoil before reaching the Citadel.” He stood and shook the stiffness from his legs.
“Perhaps the Chosen would come to the transports more readily if people paid what was asked of them.” Lisera’s reply was given in a timid voice, but its point was blunt.
With a quick glance at the guards, who were out of earshot, Yann retorted, “A full payment for a half-measure of protection?”
A brief light display interrupted his words, and signaled the arrival of a transport. Kesun stepped out, with Major Sheppard and Dr McKay beside him. The scientist looked more irked than usual, while the Major, behind his usual mask of nonchalance, was pensive. “Ford, Teyla,” Sheppard said to them in greeting. “Making friends?”
“We have learned much,” Teyla responded.
“Same here. And now I think it’s time we headed home.” The Major’s hooded expression told Teyla that there was a great deal to discuss.
“Sir,” Ford asked, picking up his pack, “what about Lisera?”
“Her injury is beyond the medical capabilities of this world,” Teyla explained. “If left here, she would not regain the use of her leg.”
The Major glanced at Kesun. “Would it be acceptable for us to take Lisera back to Atlantis? Just for a couple of days.”
A range of expressions that Teyla could not fully interpret crossed the face of the Chosen. “Dalera was the greatest healer our kind has ever known.” With a sly edge to his voice, he added, “If the girl were to return from Atlantis with her leg mended, I believe it would help to convince all of our people of the righteousness of Dalera’s ways — including a return to the traditions of which we spoke. Very well. Take her to Atlantis, so that she may come back to us with knowledge of its wonders.”
The joy that lit Lisera’s delicate features was indescribable. The young woman turned shining eyes to Lieutenant Ford. “You have saved me once more,” she whispered.
Taken aback, the Lieutenant could only offer an embarrassed smile. “I don’t know about that,” he began, but Sheppard and Kesun were already discussing specifics.
“If our doctor — our healer — can treat Lisera easily, we’ll return with her in two days,” the Major explained. “In the event that she requires more time, we’ll report back to you.”
In response, the Chosen gave a small bow. Teyla noted that he faced Major Sheppard directly, not acknowledging McKay.
Having seen the return of the rest of the team, many of the villagers milled about in the vicinity of the transport. “Guess these folks could use a ride home,” Ford said. He went to pick up Lisera, but Yann had already done so.
“Yeah. What’s a few hundred hitchhikers?” The Major opened the doors with a swipe of his hand across the touchpad, and the villagers shuffled into the transport. “Rodney, you want to take this group or the next?”