“What am I, a bus driver now?” Dr McKay muttered, stepping into the transport.
While they waited, Teyla noticed that the villagers Kesun had transported into the Sanctuary Hall were pressing payment into his hand. That left her to wonder about the eventual fate of those, like Lisera, who had nothing to give. Would they be left outside the Citadel when the Wraith sought a full harvest from this world?
Teyla waited for the transport to fill once more before stepping in behind Sheppard. When they emerged into the same inn that they’d left hours earlier, the villagers streamed out of the building with murmured and somewhat begrudging thanks. The Major, however, lingered until everyone had left. With a quick glance around the inn to make certain that no one was observing him, he returned to the transport and bent to examine the panel inside.
“What is it?” she inquired, watching from the door.
“Aha. Found it,” Sheppard replied. “Teyla, would you step back in here a minute?”
When she did so, he touched a second, cunningly concealed panel, and a row of three colored buttons appeared. Pressing the first caused the doors of a larger wall panel within the transport to slide back, revealing the same style of map and grid of lights as seen inside the transports on Atlantis.
“That’s interesting. Unless you’ve suddenly acquired the ATA gene, Kesun wasn’t being entirely honest about who could and who couldn’t access the Enclave. It’s just about knowing where to look. Okay—” Giving her a quick grin, the Major closed the panel again and gestured for her to step outside with him. “Try closing the transport doors.”
She did as he asked, but the exterior panel remained unresponsive to her touch. “It appears that in this, at least, he spoke true. Only a Chosen may operate the transport.”
“There you are,” McKay called impatiently from the entrance of the inn. “Do you think we could leave now?” Teyla watched as McKay followed Sheppard’s gaze in the direction of the bar. The air of tension between the two men was made even more apparent when the scientist grumbled, “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about having one for the road.”
“Nah. This isn’t the time to test any kind of bottle-to-throttle rule.” The Major smiled longingly. “Can’t blame a guy for wishing, though.”
The humor in his voice did little to mollify Dr McKay, who was evidently impatient to return to Atlantis.
Just outside the inn, Yann, with Lieutenant Ford and the innkeeper’s assistance, was fashioning a makeshift stretcher. Once Lisera was on the stretcher, they made their way out into the square and then down the path that led out of town. “So what’s your grand plan?” McKay took rapid steps to keep pace with the Major’s long strides. “Bring the girl back here with a neatly packaged plaster cast, pat everyone on the head and say ‘good luck’?”
“I didn’t think you much cared,” Sheppard replied mildly, glancing down at the Shield that Dr McKay was clutching.
Rolling his eyes in frustration, McKay retorted, “The question of ‘caring’ is superfluous — this is about the principle of the situation. They need the gene therapy, and I’m not going to waste any more time trying to convince you because you already know that I’m right.”
“I also know that they refused the gene therapy, so let’s not treat this like a foregone conclusion, okay?” The Major offered him a tight smile.
“Of course they refused it! They’re the almighty Chosen.” McKay threw a disgruntled hand in the air. “They can’t stand the idea of their happy hierarchy being imploded, when that’s exactly what needs to happen, because it’s disenfranchising the vast majority of the population.”
Dismayed by his attitude, Teyla now understood what had provoked Kesun’s barely civil farewell. In her travels, she’d learned that each society viewed the Wraith through whatever lens their culture provided them. The Dalerans’ belief in a divine influence to protect them from attack was no doubt more comprehensible than Dr McKay’s curt lectures on electromagnetic field theory. “Have you made any attempt to take their view?” she asked, prompting McKay to look back at her. “Kesun is working within his own knowledge and experience, just as you work within yours. You should not fault him because the two are not the same.”
“And he’s a realist,” Sheppard added, not slowing his pace. “I didn’t get the feeling he’d sacrifice his people just to keep a grip on power.”
“Oh, no? It sure felt like that to me.” McKay’s foot caught on on a root and he stumbled. He leveled a muted curse at the offending tree. At that moment Teyla realized that the scientist always seemed at odds with whatever world he inhabited. Every misfortune that he encountered was always due to the shortcomings of others, be they objects or people. “Kesun may be the most visible of the Chosen,” McKay finished, “but what about the rest of those old relics?”
“They have had many centuries to develop their understanding of the Wraith,” Teyla said. “Such things do not immediately change based on the claims of a few strangers.”
“There’s a typically provincial mindset,” McKay muttered. “A little perspective adjustment didn’t hurt the Athosians any, did it?”
A wave of molten anger flowed through her veins. How dare he? She’d known him to condescend before but never like this.
Before she could respond, the Major spun around, halting their motion. “That’s enough,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Nobody’s all-knowing. Least of all us.” That last part was uttered with a hard stare at McKay. “Let’s just get home and work things out there.”
Still simmering with resentment, Teyla held her tongue, even as the scientist blithely continued. “And if you really think the Chosen’s viewpoint is worth saving, you might want to ask them why nothing changed after the plague hit them, and only them, so hard. Do they really expect to be able to maintain their status now that they’re down to about twenty?”
So few? That did come as a surprise to Teyla. Recalling the display in the puddle jumper, she now realized that no more than twenty EM fields had been scattered about the Citadel.
Beside her, Yann fumbled the stretcher and ceased walking. Teyla saw a look of fear cross his eyes and was about to castigate McKay for his unchecked words when the merchant blurted, “Wraithcraft!”
She followed his gaze to where the puddle jumper had suddenly appeared. Remembering her first encounter with the vessel, Teyla smiled in understanding. “Ancient craft,” she corrected, walking down into the shallow gully. “This is how we traveled to Dalera from Atlantis.”
McKay’s reaction was less docile. “Uh oh.” He yanked the glowing Shield from his belt. “These must’ve deactivated the jumper’s cloak.”
Sheppard pulled his own Shield free, and the two men shoved them into Teyla’s hands. The Shields, cool to the touch, went obligingly black, and the jumper vanished from sight again until the Major deactivated the cloaking device.
“Truly wondrous,” Yann murmured, eyes wide with unashamed awe. He and Ford maneuvered Lisera inside and onto a bench, while Sheppard slid into the pilot’s seat and laid a hand on the control panel. The answering hum of power and array of lights to which they’d become accustomed never came.
“Already used up your allotment of brain power for the day?” McKay guessed.
The Major shot him a dirty look. “If yours is so limitless, you try it.”
McKay shrugged and put his hand down on the controls. No response. Lines of concentration appeared on his brow. “If this is what it looks like, I’m about to reach unprecedented levels of frustration,” he commented brusquely. “It’s possible that even though they’re currently unpowered, the capacitors in the Shields are still having some residual effect based on proximity.”
Comprehending, Teyla kept her hold on the Shields and, indicating that Yann should follow, stepped out of the jumper. The craft promptly came to life. Even from outside, she could see McKay’s eyes blaze. “Son of a bitch.”